Roommates With Benefits [BL]

•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•

"No," I said quickly.

"You’ve never worn it before."

"Maybe I have," I countered playfully. "And you’ve never noticed."

"You know damn well you’ve never worn a fucking necklace, Oliver."

I grinned at him, he scrutinized me for another second before his eyes widened. "Oh my God!"

"What?"

"You’re wearing boyfriend jewelry!"

I groaned. "Don’t call it that!"

"You’re wearing boyfriend jewelry!" he exclaimed again.

"Joey!"

Is that what they called it now? Boyfriend jewelry?!

"Wait until Maya hears this!"

I covered my face in embarrassment.

"You are insufferable," I complained.

"You’re officially someone’s boyfriend!" he shot back.

"Unfortunately," I muttered.

"Hey!"

I chuckled a bit despite myself. Then, because the universe clearly wasn’t done embarrassing me just yet, I finally admitted, "Damien and I are officially dating."

There was a pause, then Joey’s mouth dropped open, he screamed and I nearly toppled off the bed. "WHAT?!"

"Jesus Christ, Joey!"

"You two actually did it!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"This is historic!"

"Joey!"

"Maya is going to lose her shit when I tell her...woo!!!!"

He was up on his feet, pacing around the room like we’d just announced a royal engagement, waving his arms like it was the most exciting news ever.

"I’m making ramen!"

"Why?"

"To celebrate!"

"You’re making ramen because I got a boyfriend?"

"Obviously!"

"That’s the most Joey thing ever," I said with a laugh.

He disappeared into the tiny kitchen.

A few minutes later, we were sitting together with steaming bowls of ramen between us, and Joey had this massive grin plastered on his face as if he’d orchestrated it all.

"So," he said, lifting his chopsticks, "who confessed first?"

I shot him a glare. "Focus on your noodles."

"Oliver," he prodded.

"I said eat!"

"You confessed, didn’t you?" he pressed.

I looked away, unable to deny it, his eyes lit up. "You did!"

"Shut it or I’ll personally sew your lips shut."

"You confessed!"

"I was emotionally compromised," I defended myself.

"You were in love," he stated matter-of-factly..Joey laughed so hard he nearly choked on his noodles, coughing dramatically while aiming an accusatory finger at me.

I shook my head, grinning despite the slight embarrassment.

For the first time in days, I felt a little lighter.

I really needed that. I needed to sit with someone who knew me before Damien, before the hospital, before everything turned messy, and remember that my life was about more than just chaos.

Joey leaned back. "Oh Lord, when’s it gonna be my turn?"

I looked at him in confusion. "Your turn for what?"

"Love, man...love!"

I stared at him for a second, then scrutinized him from head to toe. "Probably when you stop searching for a girl with a fat ass, big boobs, and a total obsession with you."

Joey’s expression drooped. "That’s my type!"

"That girl doesn’t even exist."

"She does!"

"Where?"

"Somewhere out there..."

"Probably in a fantasy video game," I added.

He clutched his chest as if I’d stabbed him. "You wound me!"

"I’m just being realistic!"

"You’re supposed to support my dreams!"

"Your dream is to date someone who clearly doesn’t exist."

"Exactly!" he replied, looking serious.

I laughed, he pointed his chopsticks at me. "You’ve changed."

"I fell in love," I said with a shrug.

"Disgusting," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"You’re just jealous," I shot back.

"I’m happy for you!" he insisted.

"You sound jealous," I teased.

"I’m happy for you while feeling emotionally abandoned," he countered dramatically, and I just laughed.

Eventually, I stood up and grabbed my jacket. "I’ve got to get to the flower shop now."

Joey groaned. "You’re working again?"

"Yep."

"You’re going to wear yourself out!"

"Not today, at least."

"Promise?"

I smiled. "I promise."

He watched me head for the door. "Tell Damien my dear In-Law...that I said hi."

"I’ll let him know," I replied.

"And remind him he owes me ramen," Joey added.

"You ate it," I pointed out.

"That’s not the issue here."

With a laugh, I stepped outside.

The cold air hit my face, and the warmth from inside slowly faded, replaced by that nagging feeling that something was still very wrong.

I started walking toward the flower shop, and despite all the laughter I just shared with Joey, I couldn’t shake the paranoia. I kept glancing around.

Every reflection in store windows drew my attention. Every person I saw behind me made me look over my shoulder. Every parked car suddenly seemed suspicious.

It was maddening.

I hated feeling like I was being watched. I hated thinking that the person responsible might be close by, watching me scrutinize every reflection like some paranoid fool.

But if they were watching, I wanted them to know something:

I wasn’t going to be scared forever.

I had no idea who they were, but I was going to find them. And when I did, they would deeply regret ever choosing me as their target.

I wasn’t called a genius for nothing. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Okay, maybe I was, but that didn’t matter right now. The point is, I was pretty sharp sometimes. Occasionally. Under the right circumstances. With snacks.

A few days later, I found myself back at Joy’s Café when that brief spark of confidence I’d had came crashing down.

I was in the middle of restocking cups when one of the other employees approached, wiping his hands nervously on his apron.

"Oliver?" he called.

I looked over. "Yeah?"

"The manager wants to see you."

My stomach dropped. "Why?"

He hesitated before saying, "I dunno, dude...but he’s...pretty pissed."

I slowly set the cup down. "Oh."

It had to be about the coffee incident. No other explanation made sense.

Unless, of course, William Lockwood had decided to personally sue me for emotional trauma, coffee-related embarrassment, or damage to his ridiculously pricey jacket.

I wiped my hands on my apron and made my way toward the manager’s office, each step feeling heavier than the last.

My mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

Maybe William had complained. Maybe I’d get fired. Maybe I was being sued. Maybe all of the above.

By the time I reached the office door, my palms were sweating. I stared at the handle. For one ridiculous second, I thought about turning around and pretending I hadn’t received the message.

Then I sighed.

I’d already thrown coffee in a billionaire’s face. Clearly, I wasn’t great at making good choices when I was mad.

I reached for the doorknob, and as I braced for whatever fresh disaster awaited me on the other side, one thought crossed my mind: throwing coffee in a billionaire’s face was probably going to come back to bite me in the ass.

I just hadn’t expected it would happen this soon.