18. Daphne

Chapter eighteen

Daphne

A lex must have realized I left his home at some point because he’s spent the rest of the morning texting and calling non-stop. Needing space, I haven’t answered him.

Much how I’m ignoring Alex, I’m also ignoring this lunch salad. I push a cherry tomato around my plate, leaving every leafy green untouched. It’s impossible to eat. Not while thinking of Alex’s bright and carefree laughter. Only, as I imagine it in my head, he’s with Celeste and not me.

Even in my imagination, he’s with Celeste.

I’m nothing like her, and I think that’s part of my insecurities. Alex was Celeste’s for over eight years. Meanwhile, I’m having a hard time holding on after only a few weeks. I can’t help but compare.

I get Alex in secret. She got him in public. Heck, from an outsider’s perspective, she still has him.

I guess opposites don’t always attract. It’s like comparing apples to oranges, or maybe more like a blonde to a brunette. Alex and I used to have more in common, but now he values the opinion of others more—others like Celeste. And if he values her opinions more, then what’s the point of me trying? We’re so different. Case in point: she’s rich while I grew up poor. Her hair is to her waist. Mine is chin length. Her skin lives at the tanning bed. I’ve never tanned a day in my life, and I’ve avoided the sun so much that I think I’m now allergic.

The comparisons are never ending.

It’s not that I have low self-esteem. Yet because Celeste and I are so different, I can’t help but wonder what he sees in me. In fact, I’m not sure why we’re together.

Doubt gnaws at me. Am I not good enough for him? Perhaps he’s only with me out of pity. Or is this all a twisted game, a cruel joke that Victoria has convinced him to play? The possibility shatters my fragile hope, leaving me feeling utterly lost.

Trying to shake off the negative thoughts, I can’t let this get to me. I have to trust that Alex loves me for who I am.

Nevertheless, it’s tough when everything seems to conspire against me. Even my mom, who sent another letter yesterday, isn’t making things any easier. I can’t even talk to Alex about it. It would seem like I’m fishing for attention, saying, Hey, babe. I know you’re pretending to date Celeste tonight, but can you hold me instead? My mean mommy is threatening me again .

Yeah, because that won’t make him run the other way. Especially when he learns why I was in his house the night I saved his life, anyway.

The door swings open with a forceful slam, and Victoria strides in, her phone pressed to her ear. Her voice, a sharp rapier, cuts through the peaceful quiet of the apartment.

“Alex, seriously? You said noon,” she says, annoyance clear even from across the room.

The sound of his name makes my stomach tighten. I don’t want to listen, but their words find me anyway. I can’t help it. I’m addicted to the man.

I stab the tomato on my plate, making its juice bleed into the lettuce.

“Whatever,” Victoria huffs. “Just call her yourself.” She doesn’t see me, or she doesn’t care to acknowledge my presence. Same difference.

My fingers curl around the fork, grounding the cool metal against my skin. I should be used to being invisible by now, but it continues to sting raw each time.

“Fine,” she snaps into her cell with a clipped tone. “But this isn’t like you, Alex.”

I silently watch her while I completely forget my salad. He’s always been like this, hasn’t he? Always somewhere else, with someone else. And here I am, foolishly holding on to the hope that he sees me too.

Victoria had seemed mad at him, and that worries me.

The chair’s wooden frame bites into my back as I lean back. Victoria’s sharp voice pierces the silence, pacing like a jagged knife.

“Alex, you promised,” she hisses. Her annoyance is palpable even from across the room. “Celeste waited for you.”

My stomach churns as I imagine Celeste’s pout as she scans the fancy restaurant I could never afford, waiting for Alex to arrive.

Victoria pauses and listens. After a moment, her brow furrows. “What do you mean, you’re under the weather? You were fine at our parents’ house. Is everything okay?”

The fork in my hand trembles slightly. Alex is sick? I have a bad feeling it’s a sickness of the mind and not a sickness of the body. A knot forms at the base of my throat, making it difficult to take a breath. I’ve seen him down before. He’s always keeping it to himself and never voices his illness to anyone. Not even to Victoria.

So, naturally, I feel like it’s my responsibility to ensure he’s safe. I’m the only one who knows he almost died by his own hand.

“Look, just get better, okay?” There’s a softness to Victoria’s voice that’s rare, only reserved for moments when the facade of perfection cracks enough to let basic humanity seep through. Usually only towards her brother too .

Without thinking, I blurt, “Everything all right?” Vulnerability escapes, leaving me feeling raw.

Victoria whirls around, still on the phone with Alex, her surprise flashing into irritation as quickly as it appeared. “None of your business,” she snaps, stalking away.

But it is my business. Despite the distance, the short words, and the space between us, Alex matters. His well-being knots inside me, refusing to unravel. I need to see him to know he’s all right. Now more than ever.

The screen lights as my thumb scrolls through Alex’s Instagram page. He’s a constant updater, with a stream of football shots, business notes, and smiles I crave, but for the past day, there’s been nothing. None today or yesterday. The absence worries me.

Victoria’s voice cuts through the room. “It was no one, just my lame-ass roommate.” A pause. Then, “Yeah, we’ll talk later.” The click of her phone hanging up echoes. When she notices me clearly eavesdropping, she narrows her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be getting a life, Daph?”

I don’t bite back.

Having had enough, I set down my fork.

My chair scrapes against the floor as I shove away from the table. I need to see him, to talk to him, even if it’s just to remind myself why I’m putting distance between us. Slipping on my shoes, it’s time to face whatever this is.

No matter how upset I am with Alex, I still love him. Having to check on him, I have no choice but to see him.

My shoes slap against the hardwood as I grab them. Swiftly on, they go. The door slams behind me, my heart racing ahead to Alex’s dorm suite.

The dark room has a chill in the air. I can already sense Alex’s mood. Or maybe it’s just my worry bleeding through. Either way, the sooner I set my eyes on his rising chest and beating heart, the sooner I can relax.

I don’t have to knock because his door is already open. I find him lying in bed.

Alex’s depression is creeping in like a fog, clinging to the corners and swirling around me. Carefully, I inch closer to the bed, observing the silence only broken by the faint rasp of his uneven breaths.

He’s asleep.

Sweat plasters his usual messy mop of hair to his forehead, creating a staggering contrast to his normally cool skin. Even in sleep, he furrows his brow with a permanent crease etched between his closed eyes. It used to be a line that appeared only in moments of deep concentration.

My gaze roams over his body. The sheet, barely covering his thin, toned frame, rises and falls in time with his chest.

Wanting to offer him comfort, my hand hovers over his but doesn’t touch. This isn’t the Alex I know. The kind, loving man whom I fell for half a second after we first spoke. This is a stranger. A ghost of the man I love. This phantom sleeping in his bed is one I met nine years ago.

Just after he’d tried to take his own life.

I’d do anything for him, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m forcing myself upon him. After all, he shared with Victoria that he wasn’t feeling well. Sure, he didn’t tell the whole truth about his depression, but he at least told her something. Something is better than nothing, which is what I got.

I’m not being completely fair because he has tried to contact me, but not about his depression. Even if he doesn’t mean to, he’s putting a barrier between us. It’s why I’m reluctant to open up about my own struggles .

By struggles, I mean past trauma. If I hadn’t spent my entire teenage years in intense therapy, I’d be a mess right now. Hence why I’m so worried about Alex. Not only has he kept his struggles to himself, but as far as I know, he hasn’t treated his mental illness.

A chilling thought takes root. Is Alex with me out of a sense of obligation? It would explain why he’s so determined to keep our relationship a secret. Maybe Victoria is right. Celeste might be his true love, and they’re just going through a rough patch. But if that’s the case, then I’m the villain in his story.

Oh God.

I saved his life, and now he’s under the misguided impression that I … what? Own his soul? I’m keeping Celeste and Alex apart. That’s why he’s been so depressed lately.

I don’t want to let him go. The thought physically pains me. So, for now, I dismiss the inkling and pray that it doesn’t take root. Actually, more than that, I hope it’s not true.

Carefully, I remove my shoes as silently as possible and tiptoe across his bedroom. When I near his sleeping form, Alex takes a deep breath in his sleep. It’s all speculative, but I imagine that he’s breathing easier because I’m in the room with him. I carefully fold his blanket down and slip into his bed to spoon him from behind. I mold my body to his, though I’m much smaller. My breasts press against his side, legs curl into his thigh, and my face nuzzles into his neck. Taking my own deep breath, I breathe him in.

“You came,” Alex sleepily murmurs. For a split second, I wonder if he believes I’m Celeste, but then he opens his eye. “Daphne.” He smiles.

“Always,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. It’s a simple word, but it carries the weight of my entire heart. Knowing that now is not the time to argue, I hold back. This isn’t the moment to beg him to reveal our relationship or introduce me to his friends. Right now, all we need is each other.

He may be a bit damaged, but aren’t we all? Besides, every ounce of him feels like mine. I’m supposed to protect him. I have to be brave, and I will. For us.

“It’s okay,” I murmur before leaning down and gently placing my lips against his warm skin. Right now, being with him is enough. Loving him is enough.

How can he not see how perfect he is? Before taking a second to nuzzle in the crook of his neck, I softly plant a kiss against his smooth skin.

Not wanting his depression to take over, I also seek to comfort him.

He turns to face me, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Our bodies remain entwined, and he gazes deeply into my eyes, searching for something. I keep my expression open, inviting him to take what he needs. For a moment, all I can see is the raw pain lurking in his brown eyes, and it tears at my heart.

“Daphne.” His voice is soft. He gently raises a hand to brush a strand of hair away from my face. The contact, though small, sends electric waves through me.

“Yes?” I answer hesitantly, waiting for him to speak his mind.

Alex’s eyes flick down to my lips and back up again. A shiver runs through me in anticipation, but he remains silent. He seems lost in thought, but conflict marks across his face. Placing my hand over his, I intertwine our hands together.

“I d-don’t…” He begins before trailing off. His gaze drifts away from mine, and for a moment, I think he won’t continue. But then his gaze snaps back to mine, and a determination sets in his eyes. “I d-don’t know how to c-cope. Everything is just t-too much.”

His admission hangs between us like a thick fog, making it hard for me to breathe. The look on his face pains me more than anything else could. Fear, uncertainty, insecurity—I see it all reflected.

Sliding my fingers up to cradle his cheek, I provide what comfort I can. “You don’t have to.” I brush my thumb against the stubble. “You’re not alone in this. ”

Swallowing hard, he nods against my hand before turning his head to press a kiss against my palm. It’s a simple gesture, but one that carries a lot of significance.

“I love you.” It’s so quiet that I almost miss it. His confession is as much a plea as it is an admission. It heals my tempered soul.

“Alex,” I breathe, tears welling up in my eyes. “I love you too.” If my love is what he needs to keep fighting, then I’ll give it freely and without condition.

“You m-make everything b-better. B-before you returned, it’s like I was l-living underground. My lungs b-burned.”

But you’re still depressed , I want to tell him, but I don’t. I suspect Alex has always struggled with depression. Changing himself may have helped for a time, but in the end, the depression will always find him, whether or not he’s popular. Brain chemistry doesn’t care.

Pulling me closer, he wraps his arms around me and presses me against his bare chest. The steady rhythm of his heart beating under my ear soothes me, and for a moment, we lose ourselves in our own little world.

We need one another. Fucking desperately.

Having been in bed all day, his strongly unique scent overwhelms me to where I want to rub myself all over him .

Slowly, I move against him, humping against his hardening cock. Our bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finding their place. It’s slow and teasing at first but soon gives way to raw passion and desire. I feel myself growing wet, soaking my underwear.

He groans into the curve of my neck, his hands slipping down to grip my hips as I grind into him. Each movement causes a wave of pleasure to radiate through me. The feeling of him is intoxicating; the heat of his skin against mine is a balm against all the hurt and pain.

“D-Daphne,” he gasps, his voice ragged. And again, “Daphne,” as if the mere act of saying my name is a prayer against all illnesses. “B-baby, ride me,” he pleads. I move away, pushing my pants and panties off my legs while he tugs his own sweatpants off. His cock proudly springs out. Ah, fuck. He’s not wearing underwear.

“I n-need to see your t-tits,” he says.

Obeying him, I sultry lift the edge of my shirt slowly up, revealing my lacy bra. Gone are the days of granny bras. Now, I’m wearing see-through and frilly shit. I don’t have to look down to know that my sensitive pink nipples are small little balls and begging to be let out .

I swing my leg over his hips, leaving my bra on for a second. Not to tease him but to take this slowly. I’m going to make love to Alex, not fuck him. What he needs is a physical reminder of my feelings.

Using my core muscles, I hover and then slide his fat cock into my dripping-wet pussy. My ass slaps against his ball sack when I plunge all the way down. We groan in unison.

Despite the passion building between us, I take my time, wanting to savor each moment. His name slips from my lips like a mantra as we move together in perfect rhythm. The room fills with the sounds of our labored breaths.

“Daphne,” he murmurs, stuttering gone now that he’s more relaxed.

Desperate to alleviate the pain reflected in his eyes, I lean down to kiss him passionately. His hands find purchase on my back as I continue to sloppily grind all over his cock. The heat between us grows, building into an inferno impossible to ignore. It’s just Alex and me, our bodies lost in each other, our hearts beating in unison.

Our soft lips press together as I thrust my tongue into his mouth, dominating him. He’s docile, rubbing his tongue against mine but giving it back to me, full of need. Subtle hints of mint exchange between us, proving how delicious we are together. Always have been .

His hands move from my back to my ass, gripping and holding on me. Once we stop kissing, I sit straight up to bounce on his dripping cock. I feel him all the way in my stomach.

His touch is grounding, his need for me clear in the way his hips lunge up and down to help me ride him. I lose myself in him, entirely consumed by desire.

Alex clings to me as if I’m his savior. And maybe I am. If my love can comfort him through this darkness, then it’s worth every tear, every fear.

“Gonna come in you, baby,” he gasps. “Fill up every inch of you.”

“Please do.” His words spur me on, releasing my orgasm. I shatter for him, because of him. Desperately, I want his cum, almost as much as I crave his attention and love. I’ll beg him for it.

The moment I saw him all those years ago, I felt his soul radiate into mine. Soulmates, if you believe in the concept.

I don’t care that he was Celeste’s because he’s mine now.

My pussy walls spasm one more time, strangling his cock until he has no choice but to release every drop from his aching balls into me.

In the aftermath, we lie entangled in each other’s arms. He trails tender kisses along my collar bone. “I need you,” he murmurs against my skin, and I can hear the vulnerability seeping through his voice. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” I promise softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” And with that promise hanging palpably between us, we allow sleep to claim us—wrapped in each other’s arms—as our hearts whisper declarations of love only the other can hear.