"UGH, I NEEDED this," Robyn groans out, laid face down against a beach towel, her bikini top long since discarded. It was the Fourth of July, and we'd decided to spend most of it lounging around on the beach and catching some sun. As if there wasn't enough of that in California. "School has been so stressful. You'd think that a school in LA would be just partying and drinking but no. They expect me to study."

        I laugh, leaning back and watching the waves roll over one another. "Robs, don't act like you didn't have straight A's the entire year."

         "Well, duh! That's why I'm so exhausted," she remarks, craning her neck to look over at me. "You okay?" she asks.

        I frown. "Yeah, why?"

       "I dunno," Robyn murmurs. "Something about you seems different. Off. My Braydar is pointing in a bad direction."

        I chuckle softly. "Well, your Braydar is down. I am doing just fine."

        There's a cheerful yell from the right of me, one that sounds far too familiar. I turn to see Roman, Hunter, Hayley, and Devin laughing over beach volleyball. The wind ripples through Roman's shirt—the same one he had on this morning—as he spikes the ball over the net. Hunter cheers and slaps Roman on the back, causing him to tense up for just a second before returning the gesture.

        "No way," Robyn says. "You totally had sex with him!"

        I turn back to her, feigning ignorance. "Who, Hunter? He's nowhere near my type and I wouldn't do that to Hayl—"

        "Not Hunter, you idiot. Roman!" she yells.

I reach forward and clamp my hand over her mouth, shooting daggers at her. "Jesus, are you trying to flag him from across the beach?"

"I knew it, I knew you liked this guy!" Robyn exclaims from between my fingers. "Is he good in bed?"

"I wouldn't know because we're not having sex. Get your mind out of the gutter, woman," I groan, dropping my hand from her mouth. "I was just watching them play volleyball. God."

Robyn makes a face. "Sure," she says, drawing out the word. "Don't freak out, he's coming over right now!"

"What?" I hiss, turning my head to see Roman running up to us. Devin, Hunter, and Hayley had disappeared into the ocean, splashing water at one another and laughing loudly.

"Hey," Roman says, sliding onto the sand beside me. "You guys alright?"

"Just peachy," Robyn coos, grinning up at Roman. "Where did you get that French Toast recipe? It was quite literally the best thing I have ever put in my mouth. Devin included."

I groan but Roman only laughs. "Uh, it's my own recipe. I can send it to you if you'd like."

"You're the bestest, De Carlo!" Robyn exclaims, before sitting up, her hands cupping her chest.

Roman shields his eyes as I glare at her. "Seriously, Robs?"

"Oh, sue me, Braylen," she mutters, tying back on her bikini top. "Embrace your inner feminist and let me free the nipple!"

Roman and I laugh softly as she stands up, running towards the water and diving in with the rest of the group. I turn to Roman and raise an eyebrow. "You didn't want to go swimming?" I ask, glancing at his still fully dressed body sitting right beside me. I keep my tone light, like the sheer proximity of his skin didn't make my brain all fuzzy.

        "Maybe later," he shrugs, his voice nonchalant. But there's something about the tension of his body that has me looking at him a little closer, peering into the well-kept hurricane swirling around his eyes, the well-practiced chiseled features on his face. I open my mouth to comment on it when Roman clears his throat. "What about you? You're not swimming?"

        I purse my lips. Swimming fell under the long list of things I hadn't done since Sebastian died last summer. Even just one look at the ocean reminded me of the way he left me, of his body soaking up the water that he loved so dearly, the water that stole his breath in the end. Needless to say, I wasn't in much of a hurry to dive straight into the ocean. I don't think I ever will be. "No," I mutter. "I don't swim."

        "Don't? Or can't?"

        "Is there a difference?" I ask, my tone slightly more venomous than I'd intended.

        Roman looks over at my friends splashing one another with water. "Are you always this hostile?" he asks.

"Are you always this inquisitive?" I shoot back, eyeing him.

        Roman and I stare at each other for a few moments before a slow smile spreads on his face. And, damn it, now I'm smiling too. "For God's sake, Braylen. You have got to be the most infuriating person I have ever met."

        "Believe me, that goes both ways," I retort, smile dwindling just a bit. "Swimming is just one of those things I can't do anymore, you know? After what happened last year."

        Roman nods once, looking stoically out at the water. "Yeah. Same for me."

         I glance over at him. "So...what was it? You got caught in the currents as a kid? Face planted into the pool? You weren't waterboarded, were you?"

        Roman laughs, a real one where his eyes squint shut and a dimple peek from his face. "No, I wasn't waterboarded. It wasn't anything like that."

        "It's okay if you don't want to tell me," I respond, the sound of seagulls even louder than the chattering of people on the beach. "I'll just assume it really was waterboarding and you're lying to me."

        Roman looks over at me, chuckling softly. There's something else in his eyes, something that looks too much like fondness to me. I tear my eyes away from him, tapping my fingers nervously against my thigh. I needed to change to something easier. Fast. "So what's your favorite color?" I ask, nudging him.

        He doesn't even miss a beat. "Brown."

        "Brown?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

        Roman frowns. "What's wrong with brown?"

        "Well, nothing is wrong with brown, per se. It's just people usually choose yellow or green or red. Not brown," I say incredulously.

        "Are you saying you want me to be like everyone else? Shouldn't you support my individuality?"

        "Are you trying to tell me you're not like other girls?"

        "Are you implying that I am?"

        "Back to the inquiries, I see," I joke, smiling over at Roman. He was already smiling back at me, in a way that had my heart thudding in my chest and me blushing deeply. "Mine is blue, thanks for asking."

        Roman chuckles. "Well, there's like 300 shades of blue. So what is it? Royal, turquoise, baby blue?"

        "Like a deep blue," I murmur. "You know, when the sun's gone down but it's not entirely nighttime yet and the sky still has some color to it, just before it turns black completely? I love that color."

        Roman pinches a piece of his shirt between his fingers as he smiles over at me. "I do have one more question."

"Of course you do."

        He bites his bottom lip, looking out at the water before turning back to me. My eyes catch on his lips, slightly red from him biting it, and have to quickly bring my eyes back up to his. "Why do you try so hard not to like me?"

        "I do like you," I mumble, panic clutching at my chest. Was I transparent? Or did he just see right through me? "We're friends, aren't we?"

        Roman cocks his head to the side, a teasing glint in his eye. "I think you and I both know good and well that we're not just friends. Am I the only one brave enough to admit it?"

        "Of course, we're more than friends, idiot. I don't just go around making out with Hayley," I respond, glaring at him. "Well, not anymore, at least."

        Roman laughs. "Yeah, she told me about that," he says. "I'm surprised you two are still friends after all that. It sounded straight out of some cheesy romance novel."

        I snort. "Yeah, well, I never claimed to be a good person," I mumble, glancing down at my slightly tanned stomach. "It's everyone around me who keeps assuming otherwise."

        Roman's eyes turn soft. "I don't think we're just assuming," he murmurs.

        "I definitely think you've all been misinformed," I retort. "I mean, I'm no villain but I'm definitely not the good guy. I'm not sure I ever will be."

         Hunter and Hayley laugh loudly as Devin dunks Robyn's head underneath the waves, her hair coming up pressed to her face in long, straight strands. I smile softly at my friends, some part of me aching to just forget everything that had happened and live my life again. But I couldn't.

        Roman's eyes follow mine to my friends. "So, what, you're telling me that all those people in the water are stupid?"

        "No, of course not! I mean, Hunter is a little on the fence but he's kind of wise when you think—"

        "And do you think they're perfect?"

       "No, no, I don't—"

        "But you love them? In spite of their imperfections?" he asks, tone pressing.

        I grit my teeth. "Yes, Roman, I do."

        "We haven't been misinformed, Braylen," Roman continues, eyes turning misty. "We know exactly what we're signing up for. You and your imperfections; that's the deal that we accepted. And I don't think any of them would have it any other way."

        A blush flows up to my neck and I turn my head away. "Would you? Have it any other way?" I ask. "I know that you like me. But, I don't know, do you think it'd be easier to like someone else? Anyone else? I have more baggage than the damn airport."

        "Sure, it'd be easier," he responds back quickly. There's a soft pin in my stomach at his words but Roman only smiles as he continues. "But easy is boring. And you, my friend, are everything but boring. I wouldn't change a thing."

        I smile at him and he smiles back and for once, it seems like the world has shifted right back into place after spending forever turned too far to the left. But then the moment passes and the heaviness begins to drip off of my bones again, overwhelming me until my smile fades from my cheeks.

        "I have a question as well," I say, holding up my finger diplomatically.

        Roman gestures his hands, telling me to go on. I purse my lips. "Okay, so you cook incredible food, bake, make and mix insane drinks without ever tasting a single one, draw and paint better than Picasso, you're super smart, my own personal therapist, and have to be one of the disgustingly nicest people I know."

        "Not hearing the question but enjoying the stroked ego."

        I lower my eyes to him. "What are you not good at?"

        Roman furrows his eyebrows for a moment, thinking for a little while about my question. The fact that he actually has to think about it has me beyond frustrated, and I open my mouth to say something when he mutters, "soccer".

        I frown. "Sorry, what?"

        "Soccer, okay? I don't get the damn game, the kicking the ball all over the place and shit. And how in the world can I not touch the ball? You expect me to make it levitate to the goal?! Or break my toes kicking the brick-filled ball?" Roman rants, his cheeks blush pink as he speaks. "I also suck at reading. The stupid words just always seem to be swimming on the pages to me. It's always impossible for me to pluck them out. Do you know how frustrating it is to have to take twenty minutes to read a menu at restaurants?"

        I rub a circle on his shoulder, fighting a smile. "No need to get worked up, love, it's okay," I coo jokingly, momentarily distracted by the sudden light in his eyes and the bright smile on his face. "What is it?"

        "You called me love," he responds softly.

        I glare at him. "Hey, now, we had a deal. No feelings, no attachments, no nothing. Capisce?"

        "Capisce," he responds back with a smirk. "Dal momento che mi hai chiamato il tuo amore, dovresti sapere che ho giá violato il nostro accordo. Temo di innamorarmi di te, mia cara, troppo in fretto."

        I stare up at Roman, eyes wide. "I have no clue what you're saying. What does all of that mean?"

        "I'm afraid I can't say," Roman chuckles.

        I narrow my eyes. "Can't? Or won't?" I ask, and he smiles at the reminder of our earlier conversation.

       "Is there a difference?" he retorts, smirking up at me.

        "In this case? Yes," I say, crossing my arms. "So you're sure you're alright with...our agreement?" I ask, staring at my lap instead of him.

        "Quite alright," he responds, his hand reaching out to touch my thigh. I push away his hand briskly, eyes coming up to look at my friends splashing in the water. They were facing away from me but I was still on red alert. Roman notices the move and stares at me, a look of hurt flashing across his face. He retracts his hand, leaning back on it instead.

        "Sorry," I murmur. "I don't need anyone knowing about this. You can't touch me like that."

        Roman chuckles darkly, humorlessly. "That's not what you were saying last night."

        I glower at him. "Last night—alone in my room—is very different from here, lying on the beach. If my friends see, there are a million and one things I need to worry about; they'd have way too many questions. And the extra stress would probably cause me to go bald."

        Roman sighs softly. "That's the only reason you don't want to tell your friends? Just to field their questions?"

        I look over at him again, his wide brown eyes with the small flecks of color in them and the insane ability to strip away every piece of armor I had and see through my skin. "Yes. That's the only reason."

        I don't tell him the truth because he already knows. It doesn't matter how many times he assures me I'm a good person. I could never let myself be with him fully, never go out in public with him on my arm, together and proud. And it was because I still wasn't over the boy who seemed to have taken my heart with him.

        And I know he knows that too.