“I’m fine,” Damian growls. He brushes off your concern and steps past you, fists clenched at his sides. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” The quicker he gets out of here, the less likely you are to find out.

This is all just great. Fantastic, really. Never mind the fact he’s dying from feelings in the first place—he’s dying from his feelings for you, of all people. He doesn’t even understand why he likes you.

He can’t let you find out. The very idea is mortifying.