Polar Opposites

Chapter 6 ~ Holy Mother Of…

{Grace’s POV}

The metallic click of the front door echoed through the apartment.

Then silence.

I stood frozen in the middle of the living room staring at the spot where Damian had disappeared.

A gun.

That was a gun.

Okay.

Okay. Let’s relax.

People carried fake guns all the time.

Yeah.

Maybe.

Honestly, I had no statistics to support that claim, but it felt emotionally correct.

I pressed both palms against my cheeks.

“It was fake,” I whispered to myself.

Definitely fake.

There was absolutely no reason for a college student to casually carry around a real gun tucked casually into his jeans like he was starring in a Netflix crime documentary.

And honestly, it hadn’t even looked that real.

Not like I knew what a real gun looked like.

But still.

I feel like I would know.

Hopefully.

“Oh my God,” I muttered. “What if I don’t know because I’m the type to die first in horror movies?”

That actually felt possible.

I glanced toward the front door again.

Nothing.

Good.

The effortless menace had truly left.

Which meant I could finally breathe without feeling judged by somebody with cheekbones sharp enough to be used to commit murder.

I grabbed my luggage handles and started dragging them toward the hallway.

The apartment somehow looked even more expensive now that I was properly seeing it.

Dark wooden floors stretched beneath soft recessed lighting. Black marble counters gleamed from the kitchen while framed abstract artwork lined the walls like rich people had personally blessed the building.

Everything looked clean and masculine— blehh.

Even the air smelled expensive. Wait— how does air smell expensive again?

It just did.

Meanwhile my room back home smelled like vanilla spray, unfolded laundry and poor financial conditions.

Sigh.

I dragged my suitcase farther down the hallway and the wheels squeaked dramatically, reminding me of their condition.

“You know,” I told them quietly, “we’re guests here. Try acting like luggage with manners.”

One wheel immediately bumped into the wall.

Unbelievable.

I continued down the hallway now, still subconsciously offended by Damian’s behavior.

Seriously.

Who refuses someone help?

Or throws keys at a lady?

And not even gently, with no concern whatsoever that I could’ve lost an eye after I’d fallen.

Or an arm.

Or dignity.

Okay maybe the dignity was already gone.

Still.

And the way he’d looked at me then?

Like evolution had made a clerical error.

My grip tightened on the suitcase handle. “How is somebody simultaneously that beautiful and that crude?” I said aloud.

No genuinely.

It felt naturally unfair.

Like God spent extra time sculpting his face and then accidentally dropped his personality into acid afterward.

I turned the corner— and stopped abruptly.

Another massive framed poster hung on the wall.

Damian.

Of course it was him.

Shirtless.

Of course he was shirtless.

And then tattoos traced along his skin and muscles, making every ripple even more obvious, while dark hair was slightly messy like somebody had personally arranged each strand for maximum psychological damage.

I stared— Unfortunately.

The boy looked illegal.

Not regular attractive.

No.

This was the kind of attractive that l caused collapses in public spaces.

The lighting across his body highlighted every sharp line and toned muscle so offensively well that I suddenly understood why Sofia had reacted that way earlier.

His abs looked carved by angry angels. And his skin practically glowed, among other qualities.

Even something as little as his stupid brows looked expensive detailed.

I narrowed my eyes at the poster.

“Okay no.”

I physically stepped backward. “Grace, we are NOT doing this.”

I pointed at the poster accusingly.

“You’re literally paper.”

A stunning paper..

I hated this apartment already.

I finally dragged my luggage farther down the hall until I reached the second door on the left.

My room.

Well. Temporary room.

I unlocked it carefully and stepped inside. Then paused.

Okay wow.

The room is beautiful.

It has everything anyone would need in a room— and more. It was expensive.

Even the curtains looked wealthy.

I didn’t know curtains could look wealthy until now.

Mine at home looked like they paid taxes late.

I slowly set my luggage down near the bed.

Everything was ridiculously neat. Which honestly surprised me.

I fully expected Damian Reyes to live like a raccoon with anger issues.

Instead the room looked organized enough to appear in an interior design magazine.

I wandered farther inside, taking everything in.

Then my eyes landed on a framed photo sitting on the shelf beside the bed.

A girl.

A very beautiful girl.

Long dark hair. Perfect skin. Sharp eyes.

She looked like the type of person who woke up naturally glowing while the rest of us fought for survival with concealer and prayer.

I picked up the frame slightly.

“Huh.”

Maybe she was his girlfriend.

Or ex-girlfriend.

Or one of those celebrity crush situations.

Although honestly, Damian didn’t seem like a dude to have celebrity crushes.

He looked more like the type celebrities developed problems over.

Which was deeply undeserved.

I placed the frame back carefully before wandering toward the doorway again.

That’s when I noticed the small glass globe sitting on a side table near the hallway.

Tiny silver stars floated inside it.

My eyes widened immediately.

“Oh my God, that’s adorable.”

Finally. Something in this house that didn’t look intimidating.

I picked it up carefully.

Except apparently “carefully” meant absolutely nothing to my hands because the second I touched it… it slipped.

My entire soul left my body as the globe hit the floor.

CRASH.

Glass exploded everywhere.

Silence.

I stared downward in horror.

“No.”

My voice came out tiny.

“No no no no.”

Panic immediately took over.

I dropped onto my knees and started gathering broken pieces with the speed of somebody destroying evidence at a crime scene.

“Okay,” I breathed shakily. “Mistakes happen.”

One sharp piece sliced my finger lightly.

“Ow.”

Okay. Rude.

I grabbed the tiny broom and dustpan near the kitchen and cleaned everything frantically before throwing the shattered remains into the trash.

Then I stood there breathing heavily.

The apartment remained silent.

Good.

Maybe he’d never notice if we don’t tell him

Yeah.

I dusted my hands together nervously before finally retreating to my room.

The next hour passed quickly.

Shower. Pajamas. Unpacking.

My Laptop was open on the bed and I skimmed through transfer schedules and class information while trying not to think about the fact that I was actually living with a terrifyingly attractive human red flag.

My brain eventually stopped functioning halfway through a course outline.

Something about advanced economics. Or chemistry.

Honestly, the words started blending together after paragraph three.

Then… the front door opened. And every muscle in my body tightened instantly. Movement echoed faintly through the apartment.

A drawer opening.

Footsteps.

Low sounds.

Damian was back. And suddenly the apartment felt smaller.

Not dangerously.

Just… Hyperaware.

Like my body suddenly remembered: Oh right. There’s a six-foot-two constipated demon figure somewhere nearby.

I slowly lowered my laptop, and for some reason I didn’t fully understand, I slid beneath the blanket and closed my eyes.

Pretending to sleep felt like the safest option.

Which was ridiculous because I wasn’t twelve years old hiding from chores.

Still.

I stayed perfectly still while faint sounds continued somewhere outside my room.

Eventually…

I accidentally fell asleep for real.

Good for me, I guess.

**

The next morning began with violence.

Specifically my alarm.

I jolted upright instantly.

“Sorry! I’m awake!”

Silence.

I blinked, then stared around the unfamiliar room slowly.

Right.

Not home.

No loud mother yelling through the walls. No smell of breakfast downstairs. No chaos.

Just Montclair University. And Damian Reyes.

Wonderful.

I dropped backward onto the bed dramatically.

“I’m so not motivated,” I muttered into my pillow.

Unfortunately life continued.

And so did hunger.

Mostly hunger.

I eventually dragged myself out of bed and shuffled toward the hallway in oversized pajamas and fluffy socks.

Damien was most likely still around by this time and if he was, I told myself; peace, eat, go to school.

I really just planned on avoiding trouble but then I entered the kitchen— and paused.

There was a half-naked girl there in a cropped tank top and panties, standing and eating cereal from a bowl the size of my future regrets.

Long blonde hair. Perfect body. Unbothered.

But then she was aggressively destroying MY cereal.

I was standing there but she kept eating, completely ignoring me.

Interesting priorities here.

I debated internally whether to address: One, the lack of clothing.

Or.

The cereal theft.

The cereal won. Obviously.

I opened my mouth to speak, but footsteps interrupted me.

Damian walked into the kitchen then. The girl immediately brightened.

“Baby.”

She wrapped herself around him and kissed him directly on the lips like I wasn’t standing there.

I looked away instantly. Ew.

Then immediately looked back.

Then wished I hadn’t because somehow this boy looked even hotter in morning lighting.

The girl acted like she noticed me now.

“Oh,” she said casually. “Damian, your maid came in here earlier and keeps staring at me weirdly.”

Wait—

“Excuse me? I’m not his maid,” I said immediately. “Or anyone’s.”

The girl gave me a once over. “You’re not?”

“Do I look like a maid?”

Before she could answer, Damian finally stepped farther into the kitchen.

“Do you really want the answer to that question?” He said.

My jaw dropped. I looked down at my pajamas automatically.

Gray shorts. Loose shirt. Fluffy socks.

This was comfortable fashion. Not servant couture!

I lifted my head to defend myself and paused. Because the blonde girl was kissing him again.

Oh my Goodness!

She said something, eventually grabbed her bag and headed out after another suspiciously judgmental glance in my direction.

“I’ll see you in school, baby.” She said from the hallway with a skirt on. Then she disappeared out the front door.

Finally.

Silence settled across the kitchen.

Damian moved toward the counter… while lighting a cigarette casually!

I stared at him.

Then at the cigarette.

Then back at him.

“What are you doing?”

“As I told you before,” he said calmly, “you don’t need to speak to me.”

“I’m speaking to you because you’re not supposed to smoke in the kitchen.”

“Says who?”

He finally looked at me while leaning against the counter.

And for one deeply unfortunate second, my brain forgot its responsibilities entirely.

Blue eyes.

Messy hair.

Dark singlet stretched across broad shoulders.

This boy was genuinely hazardous.

I snapped out of it quickly.

“Says me and every basic law of human civilization.”

He ignored me completely and checked his phone.

Okay— wow!

“Hey,” I said, stepping closer. “I’m talking to you!”

Smoke drifted into my nose instantly.

I coughed.

“Oh my God.” I choked.

“This is going to be worse than I thought,” he muttered randomly.

I frowned. “What is?”

He gestured lazily between us. “This.”

Excuse me?

“You’re too loud.”

“I’m too loud?” I repeated incredulously.

“Yes. And most people avoid my space, you know.” He referred to my proximity to him.

“Well I’m not most people.”

“Clearly.”

Something about the way he said it made it sound like something else.

Like I didn’t qualify for something… ‘people” or something.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Before he could answer, his smoke hit my lungs again and I started coughing violently.

The toaster popped nearby.

“Well deserved,” Damian commented, then he walked past me.

I stared after him in disbelief, my face red from almost dying.

“You are genuinely unbelievable!”

No response.

“You’re arrogant and morally exhausting.”

Still nothing.

I followed him toward the counter while he calmly prepared his toast

“Since I got here, everyone keeps acting like you’re some kind of king around here,” I continued. “And honestly? I don’t see the appeal!”

That finally got his attention.

His gaze lifted slowly toward mine.

“You don’t?” He said with a raised brow and suddenly his face was dangerously close to mine.

Oh no.

My ability to function was instantly destroyed.

The air grew hot.

“I, what— no. Your face is– well, not your fist— Face. I mean face.”

Why am I talking about his face?!

“I.. I just don’t feel— well, what I’m trying to uhm, say is that people are.. are just like… candy canes. And you know opinions dissolve. Yeah.”

Abort mission.

Abort immediately.

I zipped it and step safely away while his expression shifted slightly.

Not fully a smile.

Worse.

Amusement and understanding.

I wanted the ground to open and consume me.

He straightened slowly.

“Thought so.”

Then he walked out of the kitchen.

And somehow that felt like losing a fight I didn’t realize I’d started.

I felt embarrassed but also angry at his ego.

“I hate him,” I whispered facing the empty doorway. .

“My God, I hate him SO much!”

A loud ringtone blared then from a distance in the house and I realized it was a sound my phone makes.

My alarm.

I threw my gaze to the wall clock on the side to check the time after which I screamed.

Holy mother of distressed weasels!

“It’s passed time for my transfer verification!”

Which is the process that determines if I get to remain in this school…