chapter three

Chapter Three

Aiden's POV

The bell above the café door chimed softly as I stepped inside, carrying the scent of rain in with me. Damien was already seated in our usual booth beside the window, one hand wrapped around a mug of black coffee while the fingers of the other tapped absently against the ceramic. 

Most people would've called him patient, but I knew better. Damien only tapped when something occupied too much space in his head, and judging by the untouched croissant sitting beside his cup, he'd been waiting long enough for his coffee to start going cold.

His eyes found mine the second I reached the table, travelling over my face with quiet precision before settling there as though he were reading words no one else could see.

"You're late."

I slipped into the seat opposite him and reached for the cup the waitress had already placed in front of me. "By a few minutes."

"Twelve."

A smile tugged at my mouth. "You've been counting."

"I've been waiting."

"You make me sound important."

"You are when you disappear after beating Westbridge."

I took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle in my chest before leaning back comfortably. "You should've seen the look on Coach's face after the final whistle. I think he aged ten years."

"You look unusually pleased with yourself."

"I won."

"No." His head tilted ever so slightly. "That's not it."

I looked at him over the rim of my cup. "You saw him."

Trust Damien to skip every unnecessary step.

"I did."

His gaze sharpened, and I could feel his breathing slow down. "And?"

A quiet laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "The asshole doesn't remember me."

The words should've made me feel victorious. Instead, they left something unexpectedly hollow behind.

Damien frowned. "Nothing?"

"Not me." I shrugged, trying to sound far less disappointed than I actually was. "To him..." I paused, shaking my head with a laugh that bordered on disbelief. "...I'm just the rival who fucked a stripper."

The amusement vanished from Damien's face so quickly it almost gave me whiplash.

"...What?"

I blinked. "What?"

"What do you mean, you fucked a stripper?"

His voice wasn't loud, but there was something beneath it I'd never heard before; irritation... maybe even jealousy.

"I mean exactly that."

"You say it like you're telling me you ordered coffee."

"It's hardly breaking news."

"Aiden."

"What?"

"You keep treating sex like it's..." He searched briefly for the word before finding it. "...a hobby."

I couldn't help laughing. "Maybe because it is."

His jaw flexed. I’m sure if he could, he would rip me into pieces right now.

"So that's what you do now?"

"What?"

"You sleep with strangers every time life gets inconvenient."

"I sleep with whoever I want whenever I want." I lifted one shoulder lazily. "Some people drink after a stressful day, some gamble, some start fights. I prefer having a good time."

"And does it actually help?"

"It passes the evening."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He held my gaze without blinking.

"For years, Aiden."

"So?"

"For years you've slept with people you barely know, walked away before sunrise and convinced yourself that's enough."

"It is enough."

"No," he said quietly. "It's easier."

The smile on my face faltered just enough for him to notice. He leaned back, studying me in the thoughtful silence that had always made me more uncomfortable than shouting ever could.

"Have you ever thought about having something real?"

I laughed outright. "Love?"

"Yes."

I snorted, total trash "Love's rubbish."

"Aiden..."

"It is." I cut him off before he could start arguing. "It doesn't exist."

"You don't believe that."

"I do."

"You used to believe differently."

"I was younger."

"You were happier."

The words settled between us, heavier than either of us acknowledged.

"I was naïve."

"No." Damien's voice softened. "You were in love."

I tightened my fist, trying my best to push out memories of boot camp.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

I laughed again, but there wasn't much humour left in it.

"One stupid kiss at boot camp doesn't qualify as love."

"No," Damien agreed quietly. "What happened after did."

I stared at the rain sliding down the café window, watching one droplet chase another toward the pavement below.

"He's not my ex."

"I know."

"I never dated him."

"I know."

"I don't even like him."

That made Damien smile.

"There it is."

"What?"

"The biggest lie you've told all afternoon."

I rolled my eyes. "Hell no."

He simply watched me.

"You know what I think?"

"I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

"I think you're angry because he doesn't remember you."

"I'm angry because he's an idiot."

"I think you're angry because the only thing he remembers is seeing you pounding into  someone else."

I looked down into my coffee, and for the first time since I'd sat down, I had nothing clever to say.

After a long silence, I smiled to myself. "The semi-finals are coming up next"

Damien's expression became cautious immediately.

"So?"

"So..." My smile widened slowly. "...I've been thinking."

"I don't like that smile."

"You shouldn't."

"What are you planning, Aiden?"

I met his eyes.

"What better revenge is there than making the first boy who ever broke my heart fall hopelessly in love with me... then taking it all away?"

"So that's your plan."

I leaned back comfortably, folding my arms across my chest. "It's a good one."

"No." His answer came without hesitation. "It's a stupid one."

A laugh escaped me. "You haven't even heard the whole thing."

"I've heard enough."

"You don't think getting inside his head is worth it?"

"I think you're already inside each other's heads."

I scoffed, taking a sip of my coffee "Don't flatter him."

"I'm not talking about him."

My smile faded a fraction as Damien sighed quietly before rubbing a thumb along the rim of his mug. "Revenge only works when you've stopped caring."

"I stopped caring seven years ago."

"No." His blue eyes held mine with infuriating certainty. "You convinced yourself you did."

I shook my head, letting out a dry laugh. "You're reading too much into this."

"Am I?"

"Obviously."

He didn't argue. He simply tilted his head, studying me the way he always did whenever he knew the truth would eventually speak for itself.

"You've been here almost twenty minutes."

"So?"

"You've spent every one of them talking about Kieran."

The words hit harder than they should have, and I knew he was right.

"I brought him up because you asked."

"I asked one question, and you answered it by telling me about the locker room, the game, his expression, the way he looked at you, what he remembered and what he didn't." His voice remained calm, almost conversational. "For someone you claim not to care... You remember an awful lot."

A bitter smile tugged at my mouth. "I remember because he was the first person who ever made me look like a fool."

"No."

My eyes drifted upwards. "He was the first person who ever mattered."

"I don't know what I feel." The admission tasted strange on my tongue. "I know I hate what happened. I know I hate the way everything ended. I know I hated watching him look straight through me yesterday like I'd never existed." I laughed quietly, though there wasn't an ounce of humour left in it. "Beyond that... I've got nothing."

Damien laughed, but there wasn't any amusement in the sound. It carried something closer to pity.

"You know what worries me?"

I raised an eyebrow. "It's not Kieran."

"Then who?"

"You."

"You're so convinced this is revenge..." He paused, his eyes lingering on me with quiet disappointment. "...that you haven't stopped to ask yourself what happens if the only person who gets hurt... is you.”

I looked away.

"You've never introduced anyone to me as more than someone you were having fun with."

Still, I said nothing.

"And I know..." His voice softened. "...that you've spent seven years pretending one kiss didn't change your life."

The café suddenly felt smaller as I looked back at him. "It was one stupid kiss."

"Was it?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you still carry it with you?"

"I don't."

Damien's eyes drifted toward the back of my neck.

He looked back at me.

"You forget..." A faint smile touched his lips. "...I'm one of the very few people who've seen you shirtless."

A strange feeling crept into my chest.

"What are you talking about?"

"I've seen the tattoo."

Every muscle in my body froze, and without thinking, my hand moved instinctively toward the back of my neck before stopping halfway.

"You had the date tattooed there."

My throat suddenly felt dry. "It doesn't mean anything."

"No?"

"It's just a date."

"The date of your first kiss."

"You told me that yourself."

I forced out a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears. "I was eighteen."

"You were heartbroken."

"I was drunk."

"You cried."

The words stole the smile straight off my face. Damien leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You know what I remember most about that night? You didn't tell me his name."

Something twisted painfully inside my chest.

"You talked about him for almost three hours. You told me he played hockey. You told me he kissed you first. You told me you'd never looked at another person the same way again." His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "But you never once told me who he was."

Neither of us spoke, as rain continued sliding down the windows. Somewhere behind us, a barista called another customer's name, and life carried on as though mine hadn't just stopped.

Damien let out a slow breath.

"I've spent two years wondering who could leave a mark that deep on someone."

His fingers tightened slightly around the coffee mug.

"I think I finally understand why you can't let him go."

I looked down at my untouched coffee.

"I already did."

"No."

His answer came so softly it almost hurt more.

"You just never stopped loving him."

The words settled heavily between us.

I closed my eyes briefly, searching for another denial, another joke, another lie.

None came.

When I finally looked back at him, something had changed in Damien's expression. The certainty was still there, but now it was mixed with something rawer. More vulnerable.

He took one steady breath.

"I suppose..." A faint, almost self-deprecating smile crossed his face. "...this is where I finally stop pretending to."

A knot formed in my stomach.

"What are you talking about?"

He held my eyes. "I've been waiting two years for you to forget someone who never really left."

My heartbeat slowed. "I kept telling myself that eventually you'd look at me the way you looked at him." His smile faded. "You never did."

Something inside me sank.

"Damien..."

He shook his head gently before I could say anything else.

"It's alright."

No. It didn't sound alright, but rather it sounded like goodbye.

He looked at me for one long second before speaking with a quiet honesty I'd never heard from him before.

"Isn't it obvious, Aiden?" He smiled sadly. "I'm in love with you."

Everything around me stopped; the café disappeared.

The voices around us dissolved into meaningless noise as I stared at him, convinced I'd heard wrong.

"...You..."

My lips parted, but the words refused to come.

"...You're... what?”