The Weekend Invitation

It started with Lily’s idea.

“Why don’t you just stay over this weekend?” she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as they sat outside the campus café. “It’s not like my dad minds. You’ll get used to each other if you’re around more.”

Eli nearly choked on his coffee. “Stay over? At your house?”

“Yeah,” Lily said, smiling. “We’ll study, hang out, maybe watch a movie. It’ll be fun. Besides”—she nudged him playfully—“Dad likes you.”

Eli forced a laugh, though his stomach twisted. Likes me wasn’t the word he’d use. Watches me fit better. Sees through me fit even better.

Still, he nodded. “Sure. Sounds good.”

---

Friday evening found him back at the Hale house, duffel bag in hand. Lily disappeared upstairs almost immediately, muttering about an online quiz she had to finish.

That left Eli in the living room again—alone with Damian.

The man sat on the armchair as if it were a throne, a book open in his hands. He looked up briefly, his gaze steady. “You’re here for the weekend.”

Eli shifted his weight. “Yeah. If that’s okay.”

“It’s not my choice,” Damian said, though his tone wasn’t unkind. “But if you’re under my roof, you follow my rules.”

Eli blinked. “Of course. Yes, sir.”

The corner of Damian’s mouth twitched, almost like approval.

---

Later that night, they all ate together again. Lily chattered about school, filling the silence, while Eli nodded in the right places. But every time Damian spoke, Eli felt it in his bones—the low timbre of his voice, the certainty in each word.

After dinner, Lily dragged Eli upstairs to watch a movie on her laptop. But halfway through, she fell asleep, her head on his shoulder.

Eli sat there in the dim light, the glow of the screen flickering across Lily’s peaceful face, but his mind wasn’t on her. It was on the man downstairs.

On the way Damian’s eyes lingered too long.

On the weight of his words: my roof, my rules.

On the quiet authority that made Eli’s pulse race in a way he didn’t want to admit.

He didn’t sleep much that night.

---

The next morning, Eli padded into the kitchen early. The house was quiet—Lily still asleep upstairs. Damian stood at the counter, pouring black coffee into a heavy mug.

“Morning,” Eli said softly.

Damian looked up, then gestured to the cupboard. “Mugs are there. Coffee’s strong. Don’t add sugar.”

Eli obeyed, taking a mug and pouring carefully. The bitter steam curled into his nose. He took a sip and winced. Damian noticed.

“You’ll get used to it,” Damian said, watching him over the rim of his own cup. “Takes discipline to appreciate bitterness.”

Eli’s cheeks warmed. “Right.”

Silence stretched, heavy but not empty.

Then Damian asked, “You help out at home? Chores, responsibilities?”

“Sometimes,” Eli admitted. “Not as much as I should.”

Damian’s eyes didn’t waver. “Then you’ll start here.”

Eli blinked. “What?”

Damian set his cup down. “If you’re staying in my house, you pull your weight. Dishes. Trash. Whatever needs doing. Clear?”

Eli swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. And when Damian’s gaze sharpened, Eli felt something flicker inside him—something like fear, and something like recognition.

---

By the time Lily finally wandered into the kitchen, stretching and yawning, Eli had already taken out the trash and rinsed the breakfast dishes. She kissed him absently on the cheek, not even noticing.

But Damian noticed.

And that faint, unreadable curve of his mouth told Eli everything:

He was being watched.

He was being tested.

And for reasons he couldn’t explain, he wanted to pass.