Page 132 of The Compass Series

STELLA

D amian was a fantastic cook. After I finished eating, I cleaned up the kitchen and then headed to the living room, where I’d end up spending the remainder of my evening.

I was able to pick out one of my favorite movies to watch.

I was almost certain I’d seen every single romantic comedy ever made, even the ones in different languages with subtitles.

If there was a love story, I was going to be there to watch it—with tears and all. Plus, the cornier, the better. Bring on the cheese, Hollywood.

As I sat in the living room with a blanket wrapped around me, Damian walked through the hallway, holding an emptied glass in his hand. His eyes fell on me and then onto the television. He huffed and went to continue his way.

“Don’t do that!” I remarked.

“Do what?”

“Huff at my movie choices.”

“I didn’t huff.”

“Yes, you did. You always huff.”

“If I always huff, how do you know it was at your movie?”

“I, well, I don’t, but it was because of my movie. You did that grumpy frown of yours when you looked at the screen. Don’t deny it.”

“I won’t. I don’t like romantic comedies. They make unrealistic standards for relationships.”

“Uh, news flash, that’s kind of the point. Reality is already bland enough. The movies deserve to be over the top and cheesy.”

“Why would you want to watch something unrealistic?”

“Because I’m manifesting the unrealistic for my reality.”

“Oh. You’re one of them.”

“One of what?”

“Those people who think they can manifest certain things into their lives with their thoughts alone.”

“I do think that your thoughts are a powerful tool, yes. Mock me all you want, but I’ve manifested many things in my life, and it works better when I focus my thoughts.”

“Did you manifest me, Cinderstella?”

“No. I’m still trying to figure out how the heck you ended up here.”

“Probably that one bad thought you had last year or something,” he joked.

He… joked. He was being playful with me. At least I thought he had been. It was hard to read Damian. It was as if his whole existence was written in the ancient Greek text, and I had to use context clues to decipher his meaning.

“You’re probably right. You probably showed up after that one night I had explosive diarrhea, and I cussed the universe and asked if they had any other shit to send my way.”

He smiled fully this time—and it stayed a little bit longer than the last one.

Do that more often, Damian.

He tilted his head in pleasure. “You’re welcome.”

I laughed.

I liked this side of him. The one that didn’t feel so heavy. Don’t get me wrong, his stance was still intense, and his posture was still stern, but his eyes… they seemed softer. I wasn’t certain I wanted the interaction to dissipate, so I shifted it.

“So, you’re not into romantic comedies?” I asked.

“No.”

“Then what do you watch?” I arched my eyebrow. “Let me guess, documentaries.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“I don’t… it’s just a boring thing.”

“You think I’m boring?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know? I have no clue what you’re into. You don’t really share much with me.”

“Don’t take it personally. Even though I get the feeling you take everything personally.”

I sat straighter. “I do n…” I started, but the words simmered away from my tongue.

I did take everything personally. It was one of my biggest struggles in life.

“Was that self-realization I just witnessed?” he mentioned.

“A little bit.”

“Proud of you, Stella.”

I pretend curtsied from the couch.

He looked down at the glass in his hand and then toward the kitchen. Yet, instead of walking away, he cleared his throat. “I don’t do documentaries.”

“Oh?”

“They are often based on sad situations, and I don’t like watching sad situations. I’ve lived enough of them on my own. I don’t like adding extra sadness to my mind.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d hate to accidentally manifest more sadness into my life.”

I smiled and gestured toward the empty side of the couch. “Which is why you should watch this romantic comedy with me. I’m all about feel-good things.”

“They are so cookie-cutter,” he grumbled.

“I know. That’s why I love them. Because, no matter what, no matter the struggles, you are guaranteed a happily ever after. I think the world could use a few more happily ever afters. So, again…” I motioned toward the empty couch cushion.

He huffed. It wasn’t his annoyed huff, though. Over the past few weeks, I’d been able to learn the difference in the type of huffs, grumbles, and grimaces Damian shared. Some were when he was mad. Others when overwhelmed. Even a few for when he felt discomfort.

This one was the latter, I believed.

I’d hoped.

“I have work to finish,” he said, rejecting my offer.

“Oh. Right, of course. Well, have a good night. I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

He nodded once before walking off to the kitchen. Without much thought, I went back to my blanket, snacks, and ridiculously corny movie. When Damian came back through the hallway leading to the kitchen with a full glass, he didn’t look my way, but I glanced at him.

I hadn’t even noticed that Damian paused his steps until he cleared his throat, bringing my attention back toward him.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I, um, I should be done with work within thirty to forty-five minutes. You know. If you start another cheesy movie.”

I smiled big. Was he asking to be invited to join me for the next film?

“Of course. This one only has like fifteen minutes left, but I’ll wait for you to join.”

He frowned. “No. It’s fine. You go on. It’s not a problem.”

He started walking away, and I called out, “Damian.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll wait for you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he parted his lips as if he were going to deny my suggestion of waiting, but I cut him off.

“I’ll even make you some popcorn.”

His brows knitted, and it surprised me how attractive his frown lines were. I didn’t know a frown could look so effortless.

“With butter?” he asked.

“And salt,” I replied.

He grumbled a bit. This grumble seemed to be from his nerves. Was he nervous?

Before I could question it, he nodded and flicked his thumb against his nose. “I’ll check in once I finish.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be here. Stuffing my face. Text me a bit before you’re done so I can have your popcorn waiting.”

He almost smiled at me before he left. At least that’s what my mind wanted to believe.

When twenty minutes passed, Damian shot me a popcorn text message.

Eight minutes later, he reappeared. This time, he wasn’t wearing his stuffy suit that looked uncomfortable.

He was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, which somehow made him appear more human than the robot he seemed to be on the regular.

Those sweatpants also made my stomach fill with butterflies due to the very clear and present thick imprint in his crotch area. It was clear as day that Damian wasn’t lacking much down below.

I smiled ear to ear and clapped my hands together, trying to shake off the inappropriate thoughts shooting through my mind. “Perfect timing. The Proposal is up next.”

“Let me guess, some kind of fake marriage situation.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen it?”

He blinked at me a few times before taking his seat and his bowl of popcorn. “Kind of living it.”

Touché.

“Listen, if you have a secret romantic comedy kink you’re hiding from me, don’t.

We don’t kink shame here. To some women, that would be a huge turn-on.

” I paused. “I mean, if you’re into dating.

I mean, it’s fine if you’re not. But, well, are you in a relationship?

We haven’t really spoken about that, and?—”

“Stella.”

“Yes?”

“Are we going to play twenty questions, or are you going to start the movie?”

I sat up straighter, hopeful.

He underestimated how much I would’ve enjoyed a game of twenty questions.

“No, Cinderstella,” he muttered.

“But, Beast?—”

“Hit play.”

I pouted but did as he said. We began watching the movie, and every now and again, Damian would give his bitter commentary, which I’d combat with my witty humor, and he’d almost smile, and I’d almost like it, round and round like a hamster wheel.

Then during one scene, it almost looked like he teared up. Though, he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth before the glassy eyes could stay. I parted my lips to make a comment, but my phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.

I saw Jeff’s name flash across the screen. Damian looked over at me, and he grabbed the remote and hit pause on the movie.

“Thank you ,” I mouthed.

He nodded in acknowledgment and went back to his popcorn.

I answered the call and slightly turned my back toward Damian. “Hey, Jeff, what’s going on? Shouldn’t you be starting your?—”

“Uh, hi. This is Kate,” a voice said, cutting through the line. “I’m calling on behalf of Jeff.”

I sat straight. “Oh? Who are you? Why do you have his phone?”

“I work at the club that Jeff was supposed to be DJing at. He ended up wasted off his ass before he could even start the gig. It took everything to get him to enter the password in his phone so I could call you. Can you come get him?”

“Oh my goodness, yes. Is he okay?”

I noticed Damian sit up a bit straighter out of the corner of my eye.

“Yeah, he’s just drunk. A bit of a dick, too, but you know, alcohol can do that to a person.” Kate gave me the club’s address, and I thanked her before hanging up quickly. I stood to my feet, and Damian stood at the same time as me, wearing an alarmed expression.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Jeff. He, uh, he got a bit intoxicated and needs a ride home tonight. I have to go pick him up.” I glanced at the television and back to Damian. “I’m sorry we have to stop the movie. You can continue if?—”

“I’ll wait for you to return.”

I frowned. “No. It’s fine. You go ahead. It’s not a problem.”

“Stella.”

“Yes?”