Damien's POV
It wasn't even a real smile.
I didn't flash teeth. I didn't crinkle my eyes. Hell, I barely tilted my head. But apparently, that 0.5-second twitch of my lips was enough to trigger a full Vivienne-scale meltdown.
Because the second I stepped out of class and saw her across the quad — sunlight catching in that waist-length waterfall of caramel hair — she froze. Her face went blank. Her oversized coffee cup tipped ever-so-slightly in her grip. And I just knew.
I followed her line of sight.
And there it was.
Melanie—Madeline?—whatever her name was, the girl from psych, still standing beside me. She was sweet, kind of awkward. Asked something about lecture notes. I nodded, gave the most basic, bare-minimum smile.
And just like that… it was war.
Vivienne was storming across campus like she had a mission and a vendetta and no regard for social norms. A few people turned. Of course they did. When Vivienne Crestwood walked anywhere, she made noise. In every sense of the word.
She reached me, didn't even greet me, and launched directly into action — flinging her arms around mine like she owned them. Like she'd never once considered a version of reality where I wasn't completely, utterly hers.
"Damieeeen," she chirped in that honey-syrup voice of hers, dragging the vowels out until my ears buzzed, "there you are."
I didn't even get the chance to react.
Melanie—Megan—Whatever was already awkwardly waving goodbye, excusing herself with the speed of someone who'd just been hit with a thunderstorm.
And Viv?
Vivienne didn't spare her one glance.
But the moment she was out of sight, the interrogation began.
"So," she said, eyes narrowed, still clinging to my arm like I'd vanish otherwise, "who was she?"
I sighed. "Classmate."
"What's her name?"
"I don't remember."
"You don't remember?! You smiled at someone you don't remember?!"
I blinked at her. "She said something incorrect about cell biology. I smiled because it was—"
"You smiled."
Vivienne's voice was high, insulted, offended on a spiritual level. "You never smile at strangers. You don't even smile at Luca and he brings you snacks."
"Because Luca brings me snacks I never asked for."
"Still! A girl said something wrong and you smiled?? Was she flirting with you? Were you flirting with her?! Are you seeing someone—?"
"Viv," I said flatly, "I smiled at a joke that wasn't a joke. That's it."
She squinted. "But it was a girl. And you looked at her."
"And I'm looking at you now."
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
Then she just huffed and shoved herself tighter against me, wrapping both arms around mine and dragging her cheek to my shoulder.
"I don't like her," she muttered.
"You don't know her."
"I don't want to know her."
God.
She was insane.
Completely ridiculous. Loud. Over-the-top. Dramatic. Possessive.
And the worst part?
I liked it.
Every second of it.
Her tantrums were somehow adorable. Her jealous fits felt like attention disguised as love. And her clinginess — the way she didn't just want to be near me but needed to — it did something to me. Like a vice around my ribs. Like a match I couldn't stop lighting just to watch the flames.
I looked down at her, still glued to my side.
She was pouting now. Glowing and pouty and pink-cheeked, like she hadn't been up since 5 a.m. or sprinted across campus to throw a fit over a half-smile.
I leaned in close, real close, until my mouth was brushing her ear.
"You're cute when you're mad," I said, soft.
She froze.
"I'm not mad," she hissed immediately.
"Sure you're not."
"I'm not!"
"Okay."
"Damien—!"
"I believe you."
She pulled away slightly to glare at me with those fire-lit brown eyes, but didn't let go. Not even a little.
"I'm serious," she said. "I'm not mad."
"Then stop clinging."
"No."
I smirked. "Thought so."
We stood there in the sun, people still glancing, someone snapping a pic in the corner of my eye — probably for the uni confessions page again.
And all I could think about was how natural this felt.
Her on my arm. Her in my space. Her voice, her presence, her drama — all of it.
Vivienne was chaos.
Beautiful, impossible chaos.
And she was mine.
Even if she didn't know it yet.