𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚂𝚘𝚗.

Chapter 17

"Ugh," Damola slowly rolled over to his side, feeling like a thousand helicopters had smashed their way onto his head. The throbbing in his head, was more than he could possibly bear. Another grunt escaped his lips, as he tried forcing his lazy eyes open.

"I feel like trash." He murmured to himself, as his eyes tried adjusting to the brightly lit bedroom. His eye trailed to every interior of the room - from top to bottom - and he couldn't help but admire the exquisite decor done in deep blue and creme.

He soon managed to sit up straight, and winced afterwards, the minute he felt a sharp pain to his head. He wondered where he was, and how he must've gotten here. Then forcing his eyes shut, he tried to remember all that had happened the night before.

Then it came to him. Flashes of familiar, bright, coffee brown eyes - and face full of smiles - and then, full wine-red lips; meeting with his. That was when the alarm bells went off in his head. He'd done something foolish. He'd been unreasonable. He'd taken advantage of his best friend, and captured the heated moment in the worst ways of all.

God, what have I done? He thought, but the deed had already been done. There was no erasing his mistakes now. There was no changing anything. He'd made a huge mistake.

What would Kunmi think of him now? She'd think he was simply using her. For crying out loud! It was all too sudden. She didn't need him doing that, when she'd only recovered from the heartbreak that resulted from being obsessed with Femi. Now this? How could he even have done that to her? She'd hate him for sure, that he knew. And she had every right to be mad at him.

He was simply carried away, lost in her eyes and hypnotised by those tempting lips of hers. The moment seemed all too perfect, and he didn't have control over himself. He let himself get lost in the heat of it. What on Earth was I thinking? He thought again, as he buried his face in his palms. Regret washed over him like a whoosh of the memory from last night, that swept by him. His head still ached, but not as much as his heart did. The fear of Kunmi being mad at him, or not wanting to be friends with him anymore, made his heart ache in more ways than one.

He felt utterly ashamed of himself. He'd been an idiot yesterday. And in a way, he'd insulted the friendship between Kunmi and himself. He had forgotten - and he shouldn't have - but he had forgotten that Kunmi was not one of his many flings and/or booty calls. She was his friend, and he respected that - not until yesterday when he had chosen to be a demon and couldn't control the turned-on monster in him. He had overstepped boundaries, and he had neglected his duties as a friend.

Best friends don't know the taste of your lips on theirs, Damola! How could you be so goddamn stupid? He repeatedly facepalmed himself, feeling like a pile of trash waiting to be incinerated. How'd he be able to look Kunmi in the eyes again? How'd he be able to earn her respect again? Her trust? Certainly she'd lose a bit of trust in him after yesterday, and would definitely avoid the him. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he'd still deserve whatever treatment she would choose to give him. Be it her ignorance, or her lack of trust in him.

Maybe he was overreacting, or maybe he wasn't. But, either way, he hadn't made the wisest decision yesterday. He had only wanted to let her know what he felt. What he was going through. However, he hadn't known that he'd lose control of himself. He hadn't known that things would've taken a drastic turn like they had yesterday. And he hated to regret having what seemed to be the greatest kiss of his life. He hated to feel ashamed of something he had waited do as long, as these feelings began to slowly sprout their wings. He hated to be ashamed of something he had enjoyed.

He hated that he couldn't relish in the moment, nor the memory, and couldn't proudly say it out loud in the open. He hated that it seemed like he'd committed a sin, when all he wanted was to show her what he was feeling. And those feelings were pure, and clean, but he didn't know how to get them out of his mouth without feeling as though he'd consumed an awful amount of weed.