Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 8

They rode up, arriving at the door.

Aubrey froze.

At that moment, Damon was pressing his thumb to the fingerprint scanner on the door opposite Skylar’s apartment.

So, they weren’t living together after all.

A soft beep, and the lock disengaged.

From Skylar’s apartment, there was a flurry of hurried footsteps, and then her door was yanked open.

“Damon, you…” Skylar practically skipped out, her words dying on her lips as her eyes landed on Aubrey. Her cheerful expression instantly soured.

She saw them, both drenched to the bone.

A flicker of realization crossed Skylar’s face, and she managed a tight, awkward smile.“Aubrey, you’re still here?”

“There’s a hurricane raging outside, heavy rain,” Aubrey replied, her tone deliberately casual.

Inside Skylar’s apartment, with the windows sealed shut and the curtains drawn, Aubrey hadn’t paid any attention to the weather outside.

Damon ignored Skylar, pulling his door open.

Skylar, frantic, quickly spoke up.“Damon, Aubrey should stay with me. I’m a girl, and I have clothes that would fit her. It’s more appropriate.”

Aubrey thought Skylar had a point.

“Thank you,” Aubrey said, her tone polite, and turned to take a step towards Skylar’s apartment.

She’d barely moved when Damon’s hand clamped around her arm.

“No need,” Damon said, his voice flat with refusal.

He yanked her inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

Caught off guard, Aubrey stumbled inside as the lights flickered on, instantly followed by Skylar’s furious pounding on the door from the hallway.

“Damon, what are you doing? Open this door! It’s Aubrey! Have you forgotten how she treated you? Why are you letting her into your apartment?”

“Damon, you said you wouldn’t stoop so low. Send Aubrey over to my place.”

“Open the door…”

Skylar’s words plunged into Aubrey’s heart like daggers, leaving a throbbing ache.

She stood motionless by the door, watching Damon stride into the living room.

If these words caused her such agony, would Damon still feel the pain?

But seeing his face, calm as still water, the pain must have faded for him.

After all, Damon loathed her to his very core.

Damon, sensing no movement behind him, turned. He frowned, looking at her.“What are you just standing there for?”

A heavy feeling settled in Aubrey’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She spoke softly, “I think Skylar is right. It would be more appropriate for me to stay at her place.”

Damon scoffed.“You’re that eager to be bullied by her?”

“When it comes to being bullied, she’d just play petty games, maybe run her mouth. You’re different. You…” Aubrey trailed off, the realization of her mistake hitting her the moment the words left her lips.

Damon’s face was exceptionally grim at that moment. His eyes were dark and unreadable as he met her gaze, seemingly calm, but beneath the surface, an unyielding hatred seethed.

She’d hurt him so badly back then. And now she couldn’t even handle a little bullying?

“I’m sorry,” Aubrey mumbled, lowering her gaze, and slowly walked inside.

The knocking and shouting from outside gradually faded into silence,

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Inside, an oppressive silence fell, broken only by the heavy rhythm of their breaths. An invisible tension slowly began to spread.

His house was massive. The living room, incredibly spacious.

Modern, minimalist, and grand.

Damon watched her enter, then pointed to a room. “You’ll stay in Tracy’s room. Her clothes should still be in the closet.”

Tracy was his sister.

Is Tracy in Crestview City too?” Aubrey asked, a flicker of curiosity in her voice.

“No, she’s not here. She stayed over for a few days last time she was in town on business.”

“Oh.”

Aubrey acknowledged with a soft “oh,” then, hugging her briefcase, she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.

She flicked on the light.

It was a standard guest room, decorated with simple, elegant taste. The large bed was neatly made with fresh linens, and the dresser top was completely

bare.

She set down her briefcase and pulled out her laptop and phone. Thanks to their waterproof design, the contents were perfectly dry.

Outside the window, darkness pressed in, and the wind howled furiously.

Aubrey walked over and drew the curtains shut.

She returned to the wardrobe, pulling open its doors to peer inside.

Indeed, there were clothes inside, but barely any–just two expensive formal dresses and a creamy white slip nightgown.

There were no other garments, certainly no fresh underwear.

She took down the nightgown and went into the bathroom.

The bathroom vanity cabinet held guest toiletries and bath towels.

Once she’d showered and blow–dried her hair, she stepped out of the room. It was already eight–thirty.

Her irregular eating habits had led to chronic stomach issues; her stomach would ache whenever she let herself get too hungry.

Tonight, she’d skipped dinner entirely, and now her stomach acid was beginning to burn, a faint, insistent ache starting deep within.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

Aubrey’s heart seized. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, dressed only in a thin, sensual slip.

“Is something wrong?” she called out, not daring to open the door, standing just inches from it.

I made too much dinner. I can’t finish it all. Would you like some?”

Damon’s voice was devoid of warmth, chilling and detached.

Aubrey was stunned.

But she’d distinctly heard him tell Skylar that he’d already eaten, even turning down Skylar’s Premium Gourmet Steak

Had ‘having eaten dinner‘ just been an excuse to politely refuse Skylar?

“Could you.. could you hand me one of your jackets, or a shirt?”

Silence stretched for several seconds from the other side of the door, then a low, almost imperceptible, “Hmm,” reached her

A few moments later, a knock echoed through the room again

Aubrey pulled open the door a crack, and Damon’s hand reached in, holding a white long sleeved shirt,

“Thank you,” Aubrey murmured, taking the shirt and closing the door.

Holding Damon’s shirt, her fingertips trembled as she compulsively lowered her head, pressing the fabric to her nose and inhaling softly.

It was Damon’s distinctive scent, a clean blend of him and laundry detergent.

A sharp ache bloomed in her nose, and her eyes burned, blurring with unshed tears.

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Mersi

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