The bully's redemption

The fair glow of the morning sun filtered through the white curtains, casting a warm light across Kamsi's face. She stirred slowly, her eyelids fluttering open as the brightness of the room seeped into her half-conscious mind. Blinking, she gazed at her surroundings, confusion knitting her brows. This wasn't her room.

Her breath quickened, and she bolted upright, taking in the polished hardwood floor, the tall black bookshelf crammed with books and trophies, and the large bed with its deep-blue upholstered headboard. Where the heck am I ? The thought thundered in her head. Her eyes darted around, heart pounding.

The sound of a door creaking snapped her attention to the bathroom. Before she could react, Xavier stepped out, steam trailing behind him. Her breath hitched. He was shirtless, a towel slung lazily over his shoulder as he ran another through his damp hair. His chest was taut, his skin glistening slightly from the steam. He wore sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the defined lines of his waist. Kamsi gulped hard, her throat suddenly dry.

Xavier paused mid-step, catching her wide-eyed stare. A slow, teasing smirk spread across his face. "Finally... the pug is awake," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Her eyes narrowed. "Pug?!" she shot back, incredulous. First nudist then little rebel , and now pug? How did he come up with these names?

Xavier shrugged, strolling toward her with that same infuriating smirk. "Mm-hmm," he hummed. "You were snoring so loudly last night I could barely sleep a wink."

Kamsi's face turned bright red. "That's a lie!" she snapped. "I sometimes sleep with my mom, and she's never said anything about me snoring."

"Maybe she didn't have the heart to tell you," he replied with mock seriousness. "Mothers can be... gentle like that."

Her confidence wavered, just a fraction. *Do I really snore?* She shook her head, trying to brush off the doubt. "What am I doing here?" she asked, shifting the topic. Her gaze swept around the room again—at the tall bookshelf crammed with trophies, the tidy desk with a computer, guitar, and basketball. Panic nipped at her heels. How did I end up in Xavier's room?

Instead of answering, Xavier leaned in, his face just inches from hers. His smirk softened into something more intimate, and his eyes held hers with a quiet intensity. Kamsi's breath caught, her mind screaming at her to pull away, but her body froze. His voice dropped to a low, almost seductive murmur. "Did you forget?"

Her heart thundered in her chest. Memories crashed into her all at once—the bonfire, the drinking, her wild dancing, the kiss… and then the worst part: puking all over him. She sucked in a sharp breath and yanked the duvet over her head, mortified.

Xavier's soft chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. "You owe me a new shirt," he said, his tone both amused and patient.

Kamsi groaned beneath the covers. Great, of all the ways to leave an impression... "Peeking out from under the duvet, her voice came out muffled. "Do you mind turning around?"

Xavier cocked an eyebrow. "Why? I've seen more than this," he said shamelessly, crossing his arms.

Her face burned hotter. "I'm too embarrassed for anyone to see me like this," she murmured, the plea unmistakable in her voice.

There was a pause. Then, after a moment, she heard the click of the door. She stayed hidden a few seconds longer, making sure he was really gone. When she finally peeked out, she exhaled in relief, pushing the duvet aside. "I'm so screwed," she whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead.

The door creaked open again, and Xavier stuck his head in, grinning wickedly. "Oh, and don't forget," he teased, "I like my shirts fitted."

Kamsi grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him, but he ducked, laughing as he shut the door behind him. She flopped back onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. I owe him a shirt. And my dignity is officially gone.

Meanwhile Zendaya lay sprawled across the bed, her body cocooned in soft, warm sheets. The faint light of early morning poured through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow on her bare shoulder. She stirred, sighing in contentment, her mind still clouded with sleep. A small frown formed on her face when she felt something—no, someone—pressed against her waist. A heavy weight. Firm and solid.

Her brows knitted together in confusion. What...? Slowly, she shifted, her mind struggling to piece together what she was feeling. Then, her eyes fluttered open, the world around her coming into focus. The soft bedding. The faint scent of cologne. Her gaze drifted downward.

An arm.

A strong, muscular arm draped across her waist.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed the arm to the figure beside her—Damon. His face was inches from hers, peaceful and unaware. His dark lashes rested softly against his cheeks, his jawline sharp even in sleep. She blinked, her heart pounding in her chest. Why is Damon in my bed. Her thoughts raced in wild confusion. No, this isn't my bed!

Panic began to creep in, tightening her chest. She inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. Okay. Calm down. Maybe this is a dream. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up from what had to be a ridiculous hallucination. Open your eyes, and he'll be gone.

She opened her eyes.

He was still there.

Her heart jumped, her panic rising. Just then, Damon stirred, shifting closer, his arm tightening around her waist. She felt the warmth of his body press against hers, and every nerve in her screamed. She froze, her breath hitched.

This is real.

Her eyes darted around the room. Dark walls. Shelves lined with books. Posters she didn't recognize. This wasn't her room. It was Damon's. Her gaze snapped back to him, and dread pooled in her stomach. She slowly peeled back the duvet, praying to see the fabric of her pajamas.

She was flat-out naked.

A shrill scream ripped from her throat. "Aaaaaa!!!"

Damon jolted awake, his eyes flying open in shock. His first instinct was to mirror her. "Aaaaaa!!!"

They both sat up, breathing heavily, the room filled with nothing but their panicked gasps. For several long moments, they simply stared at each other, wild-eyed and speechless. Zendaya clutched the sheet tightly against her chest, her face burning with embarrassment and anger.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?!" she finally yelled, her voice cracking.

Damon blinked, his expression just as frantic. "Your bed? This is my bed! What are you doing here?"

"I—" Zendaya's voice faltered. She couldn't remember. The previous night was a blur. She could recall fragments—a bonfire, laughter, and… dancing? Her head throbbed as the memories fought to surface. She pressed a hand to her temple, groaning.

Suddenly, flashes returned.

Laughter. His hand on hers. The warmth of the fire.

"Come on, just one more drink," Damon's voice had teased.

Then… nothing.

Her breath hitched as the fragments faded. Damon was staring at her, his brow furrowed. "Do you remember anything?" His tone was cautious, as if he already knew the answer.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "It's just a blur."

Damon ran a hand down his face, exhaling loudly. "Same here. I remember the bonfire and… I think we were drinking?" He rubbed the back of his neck, his confusion as evident as hers.

Zendaya clutched the sheet tighter. The room spun, not from dizziness, but from the overwhelming rush of shame. "We didn't… did we?"

He stilled, his eyes meeting hers. "I… don't know." His voice was low, uncertain. "But you're naked, and…" He trailed off, swallowing hard.

"I can see that!" she snapped, feeling her face grow hotter. "But there has to be some explanation. There's no way I'd—"

"I wouldn't either!" Damon interrupted, holding up his hands in defense. "At least, not like this. We wouldn't…" His voice trailed off again, unsure.

They fell into a heavy silence. Zendaya glanced down, feeling small and exposed despite being covered. Her mind raced, replaying the few blurry fragments she had, but nothing explained how she ended up in his bed. Naked.

"Turn around," she said quietly.

Damon's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Turn around," she repeated, firmer this time. "I need to find something to wear."

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, turning his back to her. "Fine," he muttered. "But we seriously need to figure this out."

Zendaya scrambled to her feet, wrapping the sheet around her as she searched the room. Every step sent her heart pounding harder. She was grateful Damon couldn't see the rising panic on her face. How did this happen? She pulled on a large shirt she found draped over a chair, her hands trembling.

"I'm decent," she mumbled.

Damon turned slowly, eyes scanning her, but not in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. He looked as bewildered as she felt. "Do you think anyone saw us?"

Her eyes widened. "God, I hope not." She bit her lip. "If they did… what do we even say?"

Damon sighed, rubbing his temples. "We'll deal with that later. Right now, let's just figure out how the hell this happened."

Zendaya nodded, though deep down, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. The possibilities were already too terrifying to consider.

REQUIREMENTS TO UNLOCK THE NEXT CHAPTER

25 chapters and 20 power stones