Page 130 of The Compass Series

DAMIAN

L iving with Stella for the first month of November went over easier than I’d expected.

On the days we weren’t forced to spend the night at the house with one another, she went off with her boyfriend, Jeff.

I had yet to meet him, but she talked about him as if he was the sun and the moon in the sky.

Which probably meant he was no good. Stella seemed to wear rose-colored glasses for most individuals in the world—including me.

I didn’t stay at my apartment in town when I was free to leave the property.

I didn’t see the point in uprooting my life on Wednesdays and Thursdays when I’d just have to end up back where I was two days later.

Even though us living together was a new arrangement, I couldn’t help but admit that it felt hauntingly silent when Stella wasn’t in the house.

Whenever she was around, it felt as if the circus was in town.

Not in an annoying way—okay, maybe a little bit in an annoying way—but also in the way that Stella simply added light to the place.

She was always bringing in flowers to brighten up the home, and when she was there, all the lights in the house were switched on.

It was as if she feared sitting in darkness for a moment too long.

Plus, she talked to herself. When doing anything.

With any task, either she was talking out loud or humming a tune as she shook her hips.

I was exhausted by how bubbly her mere existence was.

She seemed to be one of those people who were just happy.

The kind of happy that didn’t need a reason to exist. Before Connor, I didn’t know those sorts of people were real.

Now, it seemed that Stella was joining him in the corner of sunshine and rainbows.

When she wasn’t in the house, though, it went back to the gray skies and thunderstorms.

I was still getting used to living with another person. I hadn’t done it in such a long time. The last time was when I was fifteen and ran away from my foster home. After that, I’d been on my own.

When you were used to living on your own and then put in a situation to live with others, you became extremely aware of your small habitual behaviors, like washing dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

Or tossing dirty clothes straight into the washer instead of into a basket.

I couldn’t do that anymore because the washer was more of a community thing now.

Though, even with my grumpy mood, Stella didn’t do much to piss me off too much.

She was a very clean and organized person.

She hardly left anything out of place, and sometimes, she’d even ask me if I needed anything from the store when she went out.

She was beyond considerate even though we had a rocky start.

I was somewhat surprised that her boyfriend didn’t wife her up already.

I didn’t really do intimate relationships, but I could see Stella being a hot commodity to men.

She was goofy, yes, but gentle, too. Kind and considerate.

Beautiful. The kind of beautiful that sometimes made me stare when she wasn’t looking.

Sometimes, I’d catch her in a room laughing by herself at something on her phone, and she’d toss her head back with such a look of glee.

Her mouth would be wide open as she chuckled, and she’d even slap her thigh in jolly, completely losing herself in the moment.

Sometimes, she’d even snort, and well… when I’d catch those moments in action, I understood what pure happiness looked like.

It made me envious. I could see it when I looked at her—that joy. My brain just couldn’t comprehend what something like that felt like.

I did sometimes wonder, though, what she’d be like if she got mad. Did she get mad? Did she ever snap? Or did she simply go from happiness to sadness? To hurt? I wondered what angry Stella looked like.

Though, I didn’t know why I was wondering at all. Still, every now and again, she’d show up in my thoughts while I was working.

Every evening, she’d go out to the water fully clothed and dive into the ocean.

I began leaving her fresh towels out by the coast for her to use to dry off afterward.

I never asked why she dove in fully dressed.

I was certain she had her reasons. Reasons that I, or any other, didn’t need to understand.

I kind of hated my thoughts—how they allowed her to enter my psyche whenever they wished.

On Thanksgiving evening, I sat down in my office, trying to work.

Stella had invited me to join her for their holiday dinner, but I wasn’t interested.

Plus, I couldn’t fly back to celebrate with Connor and Aaliyah, seeing how I couldn’t be away from the house for more than forty-eight hours due to the will arrangement.

I also was trying to shake off an odd kink I had in my lower back from my weightlifting session earlier that day. It felt like a ton of tension was pulling at it, and pain would shoot up my body whenever I turned slightly. The discomfort was unruly, making it almost impossible to work.

A knock on my door broke me from my work and pain.

“Come in,” I called out.

Stella appeared with a smile against her lips because she always had a smile against her lips. “Hi there.”

“Hello.”

“I brought you a plate from my Thanksgiving dinner and a spread of desserts, too. I put them in the fridge for you.”

Thoughtful Stella.

She was good at being thoughtful. Most people weren’t, but Stella excelled at it.

“Thank you,” I told her.

“Welcome. Also—” She paused, alarmed when she looked my way. “What’s wrong with your back?”

“Nothing,” I said, not even realizing I was cringing and rubbing my lower back again. The pain was intense. I hardly knew how I’d be able to tackle my workout the following day.

“You hurt yourself. How?”

“Just tweaked a nerve working out.”

“Here, let me help,” she offered, walking over to me. “I’m a licensed masseuse.”

“No, really, it’s fine. I…”

Am melting into your touch.

Stella’s hands landed on my lower back, and she gently began to knead my muscles. Her fingers dug deeper into my skin with the perfect amount of pressure.

I shut my eyes and sighed. “Lower,” I stated. “Harder,” I echoed. “Deeper, deeper, deeper.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, that feels good.

“Those are normally the comments I say to men,” she joked.

I didn’t expect my commentary to sound as dirty as it did, but her laughter made me realize how inappropriate it could’ve come off.

That sweet, joyful laugh…

Pure happiness.

I didn’t have a chance to respond because she went deeper, and I moaned.

Yup. I moaned out loud from her hands pushing into my lower back.

Leaning forward, I rested myself on my desk, allowing Stella more range of motion, and with that small adaption, she went to town.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered as my legs trembled from delight.

My hand made a fist, and I pounded on the desk repeatedly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, right there, right there.”

She giggled because I probably sounded ridiculous, but I didn’t care. Her hands were made of magic, and I somehow became spellbound.

When she finished, she took a few steps back. It took me a few moments to sit up, but I was shocked by how much better I felt when I did. I was sitting up straighter. I hadn’t even known I’d been that bent out of shape. Though, I was certain some of my employees would’ve pointed out that fact.

“That was…” I breathed out, a bit in a daze. I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

“How many days a week do you lift weights?”

“Six.”

“And how often do you stretch?” My silence was deafening. “Damian!” she scolded.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a massive deal!” she hollered. Was this it? Was this her level of angry? Or… no. It was concern. Dammit, Stella, what did you look like when you were pissed? Why did I care?

She continued, and I was a bit locked in on her concerned expression. “You’re wreaking havoc on your body. You need to add stretching to your workout routine.”

“But—”

“No buts. That’s an order. Also, you should get a weekly massage. You’re very tense, and your body would thank you for it.”

“I don’t have time for a weekly massage.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I’m a busy man.”

She smiled. “Your body is crying out for help. If you keep ignoring the calls, it will break down to the point where all you have is time because you’re too broken to move.

” She grabbed a piece of paper and pen from my desk and scribbled down the information.

“This is the name of my massage studio. Call in, and we’ll set you up with one of the best employees. ”

“Why do you even care what happens to me?” I deadpan.

She gave me a puzzled stare. “Because you’re a human. Therefore, you deserve people to care about your well-being.”

“Do you know most people don’t think like you?”

Her shoulders rose high and then dropped. “Just because people don’t think like me doesn’t make their thoughts right. We need more people who care about others in the world.”

“Yes, but that’s a make-believe world.”

“What can I say? I love good fiction. Besides, I think there are more good people in this world than bad.”

“You’re delusional to think such a thing. Most of this world is shaped by evil. You’re ignorant to think differently.”

Stella’s turned-down lips instantly showed her hurt. Maybe it was my words, but I felt it was more so my delivery. I came off cold more often than not, but I never felt bad about it. If people thought I was cold, it made it easier for them to stay away.

Correction: I used to never feel bad about it. Something about Stella’s emotional reactions made me almost feel… guilt. No. Not almost. I felt like a dick. She wore heart on her sleeve. I kept my feelings buried deep within my soul. She and I were the opposite in so many ways.

“Why are you so grumpy all the time?” she asked.

“There has to be a reason?”

“There’s always a reason.”

My mouth parted to respond, but I didn’t want to share the thoughts filling my head. I knew my reasons for being the way I was, but I had no desire to share those details with my wife.

My temporary wife—a woman I’d only be tied to for a few more months.

“I need to get back to work,” I said, the chill of my words almost making me cringe. I couldn’t help it, though. She had my mind going to dark places, and the last thing I wanted was for her to see me when the clouds darkened over my head.

“Who hurt you, Damian?” she whispered, her words soaked in concern.

“The world,” I replied without a second thought.

I wished I would’ve thought that one out more because that seemed to be enough to break Stella’s delicate heart. I winced a bit from her look of worry. She stared at me as if I were an abandoned puppy, and she just wanted to take me in and cover me with comfort.

“Don’t do that,” I warned.

“Do what?”

“Care.”

“Can’t help it.” She gently rubbed her hand up and down her arm and shrugged. “It’s kind of what I do.”

“Well, go do it elsewhere. I’m?—”

“Busy,” she cut in. “Yes. You’ve made that clear.”

I looked away from Stella because I couldn’t stand staring into her brown eyes. They almost always made me want to apologize for being the way I was.

She stood there for a moment, waiting for me to say something, but I wasn’t sure what else there was to say.

Truthfully, she made me uneasy. Something about her felt familiar even though I never allowed familiarity to be a part of my life.

She smoothed her hands against her bare forearms and nodded once.

“Okay, well, okay. Maybe we should talk and?—”

I grimaced, feeling a knot in my stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“For how I am?” It came out as a question even though it was meant to be a statement.

I shook my head and brushed my thumb against my nose.

“I’m sorry for making things uncomfortable.

I, uh, I’m not used to living with people.

I’m not used to biting my tongue. I’m not used to…

this,” I said, gesturing around. “Interactions with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“A good person.”

“I’m sorry you haven’t come across many good people in your life, Damian.”

“It’s okay.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not. But I understand. This whole situation is odd, so I get it.”

“It’s not just this situation,” I confessed. “I don’t do well.”

“With what?”

“Other humans.”

“Oh,” she said in understanding. “Well, people can be a bit overrated.”

“You love people.”

She laughed and shrugged. “For better or worse.”

The corner of my mouth twitched a little as I tried to pull my thoughts together. “I’ll do better, as I said with the vows. I’ll try to be better at not being an asshole. I’m sorry I’m an asshole. I’m working on it. Just, please… be patient with me.”

A softness found her brown eyes as she tilted her head to stare my way. Her mouth parted, and I traced the curves of her full, heart-shaped lips with my mind. A human could fixate on her perfection so effortlessly. Stella looked like a piece of art highlighted in the Louvre Museum.

Breathtaking.

Even when I was a dick toward her, a part of me noticed her remarkable existence. She didn’t know it, but sometimes, simply being in the presence of her beauty was hard.

“You’re not an asshole, Damian,” she whispered, her voice dripping with a kindness I wasn’t certain I deserved. “You just have asshole tendencies.”

I chuckled a little.

Her eyes lit up.

I stopped my laughter.

Her eyes dimmed.

“I wished that stayed longer,” she mentioned, speaking of my laughter.

I didn’t have enough nerve to tell her that I wished it had, too.

“I’ll let you get back to work, but please, Damian, truly,” she said as she walked away, “get a weekly massage. You’ll sleep better.”

“What makes you think I don’t sleep well?”

She smiled once, a very knowing smile, and then went on her way.

After she left the space, the room felt darker.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps darkness did have a way of following me around.