Chapter 3: The Door closes

“Get out,” I snapped.

Damien leaned against the door, his storm-gray eyes sweeping across my tiny dorm room like it was some fascinating exhibit. His presence filled the space, too large, too sharp, too consuming.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he drawled, glancing at my battered duffel bag and secondhand books. “Very… humble. Almost tragic.”

I clenched my jaw. “You can mock me somewhere else.”

“Who says I’m mocking?” He pushed off the door and stepped closer, deliberate, predatory. “There’s something… intoxicating about watching a lion pretending he’s a house cat.”

“I’m not interested in your metaphors.”

“Liar.”

That single word struck harder than it should have. His tone wasn’t mocking this time—it was soft, certain, like he could peel back my skin and read every secret underneath.

I backed up instinctively until my legs hit the edge of the bed. He didn’t stop. He closed the distance until his body nearly brushed mine, his heat sinking into me like fire through glass.

“Why me?” I demanded, desperate to mask the tremor in my voice. “You don’t even know me.”

His lips curved. “Oh, I know enough.”

“You don’t—”

“I know you bite when cornered,” he murmured, leaning down so close I felt his breath on my cheek. “I know you burn when touched. And I know—” his fingers ghosted across the desk, brushing the edge of my notebook where my scribbles betrayed my shaking hand earlier “—you’re already thinking about me when you shouldn’t be.”

My throat went dry.

He tilted his head, studying me with dangerous patience. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

I opened my mouth—then froze. Because I should have said it. I should have thrown him out, told him to never come near me again.

But the words stuck, locked tight in my throat, strangled by something deeper than fear.

Damien’s smirk widened, slow and devastating. “Exactly what I thought.”

---

He sat on my bed without asking, stretching out like he owned it, like he owned me. “You’ll learn, Navarro. I don’t chase. I claim.”

I crossed my arms, trying to shield myself with defiance. “You think you can just walk into people’s lives and decide they belong to you?”

His eyes gleamed. “Not people. You.”

Something inside me twisted, sharp and electric.

“You’re insane.”

“Possibly.” His voice was velvet over steel. “But insanity has its charms.”

---

Minutes stretched. He didn’t move. He didn’t have to. Just sitting there, sprawled across my bed like a king at rest, he turned my room into his throne room. The silence between us throbbed, thick with things unsaid.

Finally, I snapped. “Fine. You’ve had your fun. Now get out.”

He stood slowly, but instead of heading to the door, he stepped close again, close enough that his chest brushed mine.

“I’ll leave,” he said softly, “when you admit you don’t want me to.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. His scent was dizzying, his voice a tether pulling me closer. I hated him. I wanted him. Both truths gnawed at me like fire and frost colliding.

I forced the words out. “I don’t want you.”

For a long moment, he searched my face, his eyes storming with something unreadable. Then he leaned down, lips a whisper from mine, and said, “Liar.”

The door clicked shut behind him a moment later, leaving me trembling in the silence he’d shattered.

---

That night, I lay awake, replaying every second. His gaze. His nearness. His voice wrapping around me like a spell I couldn’t break.

I told myself it was just a game to him. That I was nothing but his latest amusement.

But deep down, under the fear, under the anger, another truth pulsed.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to be free.