Can't sleep
737 Words
Iris did not sleep.
At all.
Because apparently humiliation was now a full-time lifestyle.
She spent the entire night replaying Clara’s words over and over in her head while staring at the ceiling in the guest room.
Iris has been in love with you since she was sixteen.
Fantastic.
Absolutely fantastic.
At around seven in the morning, she finally gave up on sleep and dragged herself downstairs in search of coffee strong enough to erase memories.
The mansion was unusually quiet.
She walked into the kitchen wearing one of Clara’s oversized hoodies and immediately froze.
Damon was already there.
Of course he was.
He stood near the counter in black sweatpants and a fitted dark shirt, scrolling through something on his phone while coffee brewed nearby.
Iris almost turned around immediately.
Unfortunately, he looked up.
Their eyes met.
And then—
A slow smile appeared on his face.
Oh, he was enjoying this.
“I hate you,” Iris informed him.
“Good morning to you too.”
She walked toward the coffee machine with as much dignity as possible, which wasn’t much considering she looked sleep-deprived and emotionally unstable.
Damon watched her silently for a moment.
“You didn’t sleep.”
“You noticed?”
“You look angry.”
“I am angry.”
“At Clara?”
“At life.”
That earned a quiet laugh from him.
Iris narrowed her eyes while pouring coffee into a mug.
“You’re being suspiciously cheerful.”
“I slept well.”
“Some of us were battling embarrassment all night.”
His expression softened slightly.
“Iris.”
“No,” she interrupted immediately. “We’re never discussing last night.”
“You had a crush on me.”
She pointed her mug at him aggressively. “I said never.”
His eyes held amusement now.
“How long?”
“Damon.”
“I’m curious.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
“Your car still doesn’t work.”
Iris stared at him in betrayal.
“You know, bringing that up every five business minutes is starting to feel personal.”
“It is personal. That car nearly kills you twice a month.”
“It has character.”
“It has mechanical failure.”
Before she could respond, Damon stepped closer and took the coffee pot gently from her hand before she could overfill her cup.
The movement was simple.
Domestic almost.
And somehow that felt more intimate than flirting.
Iris’s breath caught slightly.
Damon noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His dark eyes lifted to hers slowly.
“You’re nervous around me now,” he said quietly.
“That’s your fault.”
“Because you had a childhood crush?”
“Because you suddenly decided to become attractive on purpose.”
A genuine laugh escaped him this time.
Warm and low and unfairly beautiful.
Iris stared before she could stop herself.
And Damon noticed that too.
The teasing faded from his expression little by little until something more serious replaced it.
Something heavier.
The kitchen suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
Too intimate.
“Iris,” he said softly.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
“What?”
He looked at her for a long second before answering.
“I don’t think you’re the only one who’s been pretending.”
Silence.
Her brain completely stopped functioning.
“What?”
Damon stepped closer.
Now there was barely any space between them.
And Iris suddenly became very aware of the fact that she was wearing Clara’s hoodie, holding coffee she forgot to drink, and standing inches away from the man she absolutely should not want.
“I tried not to look at you that way,” he admitted quietly.
Every nerve in her body lit up.
“Why?”
A humorless smile touched his mouth.
“Because you were my little sister’s best friend.”
Her pulse was officially out of control now.
“And now?”
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips again.
“Now I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”
Then footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Both of them moved apart instantly.
Clara walked into the kitchen mid-yawn before stopping abruptly.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“…Why does it feel like I interrupted something?”
Iris grabbed her coffee immediately.
“Nothing happened.”
Damon took a calm sip of his own coffee.
“Absolutely nothing.”
- Writer
