I LOCK MY fingers around the large black helmet that Roman handed me, staring at it with disgust. Roman makes a face. "It'll keep you safe," Roman says. "Figure you'd like that since you think my motorcycle is a deathmobile."

        I gnaw on my bottom lip. "What are you gonna wear?"

"I'll be fine," Roman shrugs it off. I stare down at the helmet warily. Roman sighs before reaching over and grabbing the helmet. I suppose I was taking too long. He situates it on my head before cracking a smile.

"Do I look bad?" I asked, grimacing as the heavy helmet weighed me down.

Roman laughs for a moment before his expression turns serious. "Not possible."

        I sigh softly. "I'm sorry you have to drive me home. Again."

        "You know I don't mind," he waves me off before straddling his motorcycle effortlessly.

        I cross my arms. "I know, but I do. You're not my babysitter and I hate to think that I'm some sort of liability. I also hate that I have to have this conversation with a motorcycle helmet on my freaking head."

        Roman laughs. "Braylen, for you to be a liability I'd have to be unwillingly stuck to you. I'm not. I chose to be here, despite whatever you've concocted in your warped little mind."

        I lift the helmet up just a bit until he can see my face. "I just...don't want you to think I'm like that. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

        "I am not afraid of you," Roman murmurs.

        I glance down at myself. "Because I'm shorter than you and skinny?"

        Roman makes an exasperated face. "No. Because I understand you. Maybe not completely and maybe I never will. But I see you, Braylen. Remember?"

I think back to a couple of nights ago when Roman dropped me off at my house. A slow smile spreads across my face. "All right. Take me home, Rome. See what I did there?"

        Roman laughs before gesturing for me to hop on. I take a shaky breath before climbing onto the bike behind him, tentatively wrapping my arms around his torso. "You have to hold onto me tighter," Roman laughs as I shut the helmet again.

        "I'm okay," I mumble.

        Roman laughs again. "Suit yourself."

        And then he starts the bike and zooms off.

       A loud scream leaves my mouth as I desperately clutch onto Roman, grabbing onto every part of him I can. I can feel him laughing and would scold him for it if my heart wasn't in my stomach right now.

        I didn't know a vehicle could go this fast and find myself entranced by the streaks of light that we passed by. I press my face against Roman's back as I watch the buildings float by us.

        It was the most alive I'd felt in months.

        His speed slows as we reach my neighborhood and then he's coming to a stop outside my house. I shrug off the helmet as Roman turns around, his brown eyes bright as he looks at me. "Do I need to carry you to your door?" he asks, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

I laugh once before shaking my head. "Think I'll manage. Thank you."

        I climb off the motorcycle and make to go inside when I feel a cold hand clasp around my wrist. "I'll see you soon, okay?" Roman murmurs.

        I nod slowly. "See you soon. And thanks."

        Roman's full lips turn up into a smile as he lets me go. I give him a curt nod back. I make my way to the door but not before turning back once to see if Roman was still smiling at me. He was.

¥

I wake up with a headache that hammers against my temples. A low groan bubbles up in my throat as I slowly sit up in bed, massaging my forehead. My eyes flutter open just a bit and out of my peripheral, I notice something that definitely had not been there the night before. A glass of water and pain meds.

Oba was a godsend.

I swallow back the pills dry before washing them down with a large gulp of water. A quick glance in the mirror assures me I look just as bad as I feel with messy hair and a cut on my bottom lip, courtesy of Nate. I sigh softly before swinging my legs off the bed and making my way downstairs on wobbly legs.

Aunt Amanda's laugh follows through the otherwise quiet house and I hear a man's voice chuckling along with her. I guess she had Dr. Singh over again. I wasn't too prudent about looking a mess in front of Singh. He'd seen me in much worse states.

But as I cross the threshold from the stairs into the living area, I realize that the male voice laughing wasn't Dr. Singh. A warm blush blooms on my face.

"Roman, what are you doing here?" I spit as the warmth in my cheeks spreads towards my entire body. He was dressed in a white tank top and gray sweatpants, his tattoos on display for the entire world to see.

        Roman seems amused by my discomfort. His eyes rake over my entire body shamelessly. I cross my arms over my bare stomach. "Told you I'd see you soon, didn't I?" he muses, sipping from a tall glass of orange juice. From my refrigerator.

I scratch the back of my neck, vaguely recalling us saying those same words the night before. "Well, maybe instead of 'see you soon' you should say 'see you in the morning.' The warning would be appreciated."

"No need to be rude, Braylen," Aunt Amanda says, touching Roman on the shoulder. "Roman's a treat. He says you two are going to work out together today?"

My jaw drops. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. I am currently nursing the hangover from hell and will not be doing anything with the word 'work' in it. I'm going back to bed."

Roman stands up, jogging over to me and placing a hand on my arm. "It'll be good for you," he murmurs. "Get out all of that aggression inside of you."

"The only aggression I feel right now is towards you," I hiss back, keeping my voice just low enough that Oba wouldn't make out what I was saying. "I have a headache and I'm tired."

"Headache? Did you take the medicine I put out for you?" Roman asks, brows furrowed.

Heat rises to my cheeks. "No way," I spit. "Tell me you did not go up to my room to bring me that medicine. You saw me sleeping?"

Roman scoffs. "Don't sound so scandalized. It's not like I walked in on you, like, masturbating or something."

My blush only deepens. "W-well, what if I was? I could sleep naked for all you know and you would've gotten a huge eyeful because you're a psychopath that walks in on guys sleeping!"

Roman looks as if he's fighting back a laugh. "You're just looking for things to be upset about at this point. Look, the ibuprofen will begin working pretty soon; you'll be fine. Now go and put on some clothes and meet me back down here in ten minutes."

"I—"

Roman's fingers pinch my arm just a bit, enough to get me to stop talking. "That wasn't a question. See you in ten."

He walks back towards Oba and I stand there watching as they dive right back into their conversation. I was practically fuming and the blush on my cheeks only made me angrier. Roman turns over his shoulder and sends me a pointed look, one that raises the hairs on my arms. Begrudgingly, I turn on my heel and trudge back upstairs.

I throw on an old t-shirt I hardly wear anymore and a pair of black shorts. A quick splash of water lays my hair down flat and I nearly sigh of relief. One good thing about short hair was I spent nearly no time on it and it still looked tolerable.

I'm back down the stairs in the time frame that Roman gave me, a glare still present on my face. He smirks as he sees me and it's then that I realize he'd won. I did exactly as he told me to. I groan internally at the thought and make a vow to get him back. Somehow.

We shoot a quick goodbye to Oba who's looking at Roman and me with some weird sort of smirk before Roman leads me outside. "Can we take my car?" I ask, kicking a pebble. "I'd prefer to avoid another motorcycle ride if I can."

Roman chuckles. "I think you enjoyed yourself. I think you enjoy spending time with me as well, though you'd never admit it."

"What made you come to that conclusion?"

Roman squints underneath the sun's rays as he looks at me. "You're here, aren't you?" he asks, smirking. "Alright, give me the keys."

I stare back at him. "It's my car. I'm driving."

"You don't know where we're going."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and wave it at him. "Well, thank the good Lord for cell phone GPS's, right?"

Roman makes a face. "We'll get there quicker if I just drive. Come on."

He doesn't give me much room for discussion, plucking my keys from my hand and making his way to the driver's seat. "You're very controlling, you know that?" I mutter as I climb into the passenger seat of my own car.

Roman sends me a toothy grin as he starts up the car. "Wait, so on Tuesday I was too perfect and just three days later, I'm too controlling? Which is it?"

        I cross my arms. "Both. It doesn't make sense, I know."

        "There are a lot of things about you that don't make sense," Roman remarks.

        He pulls out of the driveway just as I send him a questioning look. "Do you always talk like you have a secret?"

        "Don't we all have secrets?" he muses.

         I roll my eyes. "You're doing it again, Rome."

        Roman laughs loudly. I wasn't sure why he found me so funny but it was enough to bring a small smile to my face. "How's your head?" Roman asks.

"Excuse me?" I exclaim, my mind instantly going to something dirty. The startled look on Roman's face lets me know that what I thought he'd been talking about was way different than what he was. My blush is almost on cue. "Oh, um, my head is fine. Thanks."

Roman bursts into laughter once again. "Jesus Christ, Braylen," he says. My blush deepens. "Are you finally ready to acknowledge it, then?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Acknowledge what?"

"The sexual tension between the two of us," he responds back, doing a two-finger gesture on the words "two of us."

A harsh laugh escapes my lips. "Uh, okay," I mutter. "There is no tension. You're delusional."

"I'm not delusional," Roman says as he eyes me. "You think I don't see the way you look at me?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't look at you any special way. Besides, even if there was...sexual tension between us, it wouldn't be appropriate."

"Why?"

The blush makes its way down my entire body. I shouldn't have kept talking. I should've just shut up. "Well, you're older than me."

"I'm older than you." Roman repeats the words like they taste bad.

"Mhm," I hum, wondering if opening up the car door and flying onto the freeway would kill me or not. Either way, it'd get me away from this humiliating conversation.

Roman laughs again. "Braylen, how old do you think I am?"

I blow a raspberry, briefly counting with my fingers. "Like, 26?"

"26!" Roman exclaims, his cheeks turned up in a grin. "Braylen, I just turned 21 last September."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "You work at a bar! As a bartender!"

"You only have to be 21 to be a bartender in California," he informs me. "And I didn't start working as one until after my birthday. There's hardly an age gap here, Braylen, so I'm going to need a better excuse than that."

"Better excuse, reporting for duty," a voice says from the backseat. I crane my neck to see Sebastian grinning widely. "Tell him you won't sleep with him because you're still in love with me."

He is not inviting me to sleep with him, I say, glaring out my window. And what's up with you popping in whenever I'm with other people?

"Guess I just have a lot to say," Sebastian shrugs. "You know, maybe you should sleep with him. He's certainly attractive enough. And you like him just a little bit. I can tell."

Not in that way, I fire back.

"Yes, in that way," Sebastian muses quietly to himself. "You're just too stubborn to admit it."

A finger taps on my head and I click back into reality to realize we're parked in front of a building and Roman is staring at me. "You short circuit, there?" he asks, his eyes teasing.

Right. Teasing. That's what this entire conversation was. Sebastian was wrong; he didn't want me in that way. And I certainly didn't want him. Stubbornness has nothing to do with it. "Sorry. Lot on my mind," I mumble back.

Sebastian scoffs. "Now that's an understatement."