Roommates With Benefits [BL]

I woke up to the aroma of coffee, which, under normal circumstances, would have been enough to convince me I had died and gone to heaven.

But then I opened my eyes and remembered where I truly was.

Apparently, heaven had an ocean view.

The first thing I noticed was the pale blue sky peeking through the open glass doors, sunlight spilling into the room in long golden rays.

The white curtains swayed gently with the breeze, bringing with them the scent of saltwater, and outside, waves rolled steadily against the shore, creating a sense of calm that felt almost unreal.

The second thing that caught my eye was Damien.

He was propped up against the headboard beside me, wearing just a pair of loose shorts, a cup of coffee in one hand, and a tablet resting on his thigh, looking like a picture from a lifestyle magazine I could only dream of.

He looked annoyingly peaceful.

I had a special dislike for peaceful people in the morning.

Especially attractive, peaceful people.

Especially attractive, peaceful people who thought buying an island was a reasonable vacation plan.

I shifted beneath the sheets, and Damien glanced over.

”Good morning.”

I squinted at him. ”You’re too awake.”

A smirk appeared on his lips. ”I’ve been awake for an hour.”

”Sounds like a personal issue.”

He set his coffee down on the bedside table. ”Breakfast is here.”

I blinked. ”Breakfast?”

He gestured toward the tray at the foot of the bed, and I slowly turned to see it. It looked like enough food to feed a small family: fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, toast, pancakes, coffee, juice, and something that looked suspiciously fancy, about the size of a strawberry.

I stared at it for a solid minute, then looked at Damien.

Breakfast in bed, too?!

I hadn’t even recovered from the feast that was dinner last night!

I let out a small defeated smile, ”Oh, I see, you’re trying to make me gain weight.”

”But I thought you liked food.”

”I do, which is why this is dangerous.”

He chuckled, I reached for a pastry. ”By the end of the week, you’ll have to roll me off this island.”

”I’ll carry you.”

”That sounds real lovely and shit until you realize I’m talking about a medical emergency.”

Damien leaned closer and kissed my temple, the casual gesture nearly distracting me from the mountain of food in front of me. ”You’re being dramatic as always again.”

”No, I’m being realistic.”

He picked a piece of fruit and offered it to me.

I took it.

Damien seemed to be in an unusually cheerful mood. I could tell by the way he kept planting casual kisses on top of my head and the self-satisfied little hum he made whenever I unconsciously scooted closer to him

But despite my best efforts, my gaze wandered back to the open doors. The ocean looked even more stunning in the morning, the water sparkling under the sunlight, stretching toward the horizon until it blurred the line between sea and sky.

I stared for a while, Damien caught on. ”You love the view.”

”Meh.”

He raised an eyebrow and I relented. ”Fine. It’s pretty...the prettiest view I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Damien smirked and tilted his head, ”what about me? Aren’t I pretty too? You’re making me so jealous, Sunshine.”

I gave him my award winning bombastic side-eye.

He laughed as I shoved a piece of toast into his mouth to stop him from teasing me further.

By the time we finished breakfast, I’d decided that breakfast in bed was one of the few things rich people had absolutely nailed.

Sure, the private island was a bit much. The private jet? Excessive. The villa? Almost offensive.

But breakfast in bed? That was classy.

That was a lot more reasonable.

Maybe I was a bit biased on that, because nothing I loved more than a good bed and some breakfast.

Afterward, Damien somehow convinced me to go down to the beach. I say convinced because he clearly ignored my very important plans to lounge on a beach chair and do absolutely nothing for several hours.

Up close, the beach was even more beautiful. The sand felt warm beneath my feet, the water clear enough to see the pale shapes of shells just below the surface, and the breeze was warm but not overwhelming.

There were beach chairs under big umbrellas, towels already laid out, and beside mine was a small table with a drink that looked incredibly tropical, garnished with more fruit than I’d consumed in a month back at school.

I picked it up and I took a sip.

That’s when I understood why people willingly shelled out thousands to visit places like this.

”This,” I declared as I sank into the chair, ”is my new home.”

They would have to fucking knock my ass out, in order to drag me back to the city and back to Hawthorne.

Damien raised an eyebrow. ”You live in the chair?”

”Yep.”

”Not going back to the dorm, huh?”

”Nope.”

”Not even for class?”

”Especially not for class.”

He smiled, and I pointed a finger at him. ”Don’t ruin this for me.”

”Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Then he walked toward the water, I watched him for a moment before realizing he was carrying a surfboard.

Damien knew...how to...surf?

Of course, he surfed.

Of course...

Just being ridiculously handsome, rich, academically brilliant, and annoyingly good at everything wasn’t enough.

He also needed to casually ride waves, like the universe had simply run out of flaws to give him.

I took another sip of my drink. ”This is getting ridiculous.”

He looked back. ”What?”

”Nothing.”

He disappeared into the water.

Next, he’ll casually mention he can fly helicopters or speak four languages, and I’ll have to just accept it.

A few minutes later, I watched him catch his first wave. Unfortunately, he was good, really good.

He moved with a grace that made me suspicious he’d been secretly practicing for the Olympics while I was stuck working two jobs and surviving on instant noodles before we officially met, silently grumbling about anyone with core strength.

No wonder he bought an island...he was in his element here.

I leaned back in my chair.

”Well,” I muttered, ”the things we learn about people.”

When he returned to shore, I was trying very hard to pretend I hadn’t spent the last ten minutes watching him, a task I handled with about as much success as my earlier claim about swimming.

He handed his board to a staff member and strolled over to me, water dripping down his chest, looking almost unfair.

”You were staring,” he said.

I nearly choked on my drink. ”I was not.”

”You were.”

”I was just looking at the ocean.”

His eyebrow rose. ”You’re a terrible liar.”

”The fuck? I’m an excellent liar.”

”No, you’re not.”

He stopped in front of my chair, shaking droplets from his hair like he had no idea how the sunlight caught them just right.

But for some reason, I was pretty sure he did. ”Come swim with me.”

I looked at the ocean. Then back at him. ”No.”

”Why not?”

”I’m comfortable in my chair-house.”

”Come on,” he urged, offering me his hand. ”The water’s perfect.”

‎

‎I stayed put. ”I’m good. This chair and I have formed a bond. We’re in a long-term relationship now.”

”You’ve been sitting there for half an hour.”

”Exactly. I’ve perfected my position.”

He held out his hand. ”Come on.”

”No.”

He smiled. ”Wait, are you scared? Is the Great Oliver Reyes scared of the ocean?”

I sat up straight. ”No, you ass-face!”

Yes...yes, I was.

But it was a reasonable fear! People went missing in those things, I’ve seen it in documentaries!

”Then come into the water.” He said.

”I said I’m not scared.”

”So prove it, can you even swim at this point?”

I narrowed my eyes. There are moments when you just know you’re being rage-baited and you should walk away.

Apparently, I was not that sensible. ”I can swim.”

Damien’s expression changed, he knew.

I knew he knew.

Still, I stood up. ”Fine.”

He smiled and I pointed my finger at him. ”If I drown, I’m haunting you for the rest of your damn life.”

Damien smiled, and I had a feeling that he’d actually love being tormented by a ghost version of me for eternity. ”You’re not going to drown.”

”You sound awfully sure.”

”Because I know how to swim.”

”So do I.”

He stared at me, I stared back.

Then we walked into the water.

Humph...how hard could it be? Just don’t wonder off too deep into the ocean.

For about thirty seconds, everything went perfectly. Then the water reached my waist. Then my chest. Then I remembered something important:

I actually couldn’t swim. Not really, I could survive, kind of like a chair thrown into a pool. There’d be movement, panic, and a whole lot of splashing.