As we arrived at the house, I caught a glimpse of the living room lights flickering through the windows, a clear indication that someone was still awake. Just perfect.
I noticed both Dad’s and Mom’s cars parked in the driveway, but Dean’s absence was unmistakable.
Roman maneuvered the car with precision, circling to my side and opening the door for me. I offered a silent thank you, my eyes avoiding his, and hurried toward the front door, acutely aware of him standing beside the car, undoubtedly observing my every move.
Words eluded me, and I felt a surge of panic as I realized I didn’t know how to face him without conjuring the vivid images I desperately tried to bury. How could I resist the pull of his gaze, the temptation to plead with him to take me back into that intoxicating moment?
How could I possibly ask my best friend to do something so reckless again?
What had we been thinking?
We had crossed a boundary that was never meant to be crossed. I had crossed it. Now, I found it impossible to meet his eyes without recalling the way he had enveloped me, as if I were his to claim.
In a moment of instinctual self-preservation, I did what Savannah always did best when faced with a situation that spiraled beyond her control.
I ran.
Inside, I found Lizzie still awake, curled up on the couch beneath a thick, cozy blanket, her eyes glued to the flickering screen of the television. She was engrossed in a horror movie, her expression a mix of fascination and fear, her face scrunched up as she braved the terrifying scenes. It was a peculiar habit of hers-immersing herself in what frightened her the most, as if to prove that she could endure it.
Her wide eyes sparkled with a mixture of dread and defiance, her legs tucked neatly beneath her, a bowl of half-eaten popcorn nestled in her lap.
“You know you’re scared,” I said softly, approaching her with caution.
She turned at the sound of my footsteps, a smile breaking across her face. “Hey, you’re back.”
“Hey,” I replied, managing a weak smile that felt more like a mask. “You okay?”
She nodded vigorously. “It’s that creepy clown again. I’m not scared.”
“Right,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “you’re fearless.”
“Yep. I’m building resistance,” she said, her eyes still glued to the screen, refusing to acknowledge the fear that flickered behind her bravado.
A piercing scream erupted from the movie, causing Lizzie to jump, nearly toppling her bowl of popcorn.
“Do you always like to put yourself through this?” I asked, settling down beside her on the couch, grateful for the distraction.
She shifted to make room for me, adjusting her glasses perched precariously on her nose. “I like to face my fears. It makes it easier to overcome,” she stated, her voice steady, though I could sense the tremor beneath it.
I contemplated her words, allowing them to sink in. Surprisingly, they resonated with me now in a way they never had before, even though I had probably heard similar sentiments countless times.
In a peculiar way, Lizzie and I were kindred spirits, both navigating our own storms.
But unlike her, who was wide awake in the dead of night, confronting her fears through a screen, I was running from the very embodiment of mine-Roman, who felt like a specter haunting my thoughts.
I felt a wave of shame wash over me, a coward hiding from a truth I couldn’t face, despite being the older one between us.
Just then, Roman stepped through the front door, his presence filling the space with a palpable tension. His posture was rigid, and the moment his eyes found mine, I felt a jolt of electricity course through me. He clenched his jaw, a silent battle waging behind those stormy eyes. I inhaled sharply, instinctively looking away, unwilling to succumb to the spell he cast with just a glance.
Lizzie turned her head, her gaze flitting between Roman and me, a curious spark igniting in her eyes. She scrutinized me as if I were under a microscope, and I squirmed under her intense stare.
Something shifted in her expression, a realization dawning upon her that something was amiss. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment too long before she redirected her attention back to the screen, a hint of concern etched on her features.
She shook her head, attempting to mask her worry. “Nah, just rounding this up. Pennywise thinks he can scare me? Ha, he needs to think again.”
Roman let out a soft chuckle, the kind that seemed to vibrate through the air between us. “That’s the spirit,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing undertone that made my heart flutter.
His gaze locked onto mine, deep and inscrutable, as if he was searching for something hidden beneath the surface. I half-expected him to break the silence, to draw me closer, to call me anything that might shatter the tension suffocating the space around us. But instead, he just stood there, a statue of contemplation, his silence echoing my own uncertainty.
I shifted my weight, tugging at the hem of my dress, trying to pull it down a little more to shield myself from his piercing eyes. It felt as if I were exposed, laid bare under his scrutiny. I couldn’t shake the thought that Lizzie would surely pick up on the charged atmosphere that had unfolded earlier. The air felt thick and electric, too palpable for her to ignore.
He raised his phone, breaking the spell. “Do you still want the waffles? I’ll place an order,” he offered, his tone casual, yet I could sense the underlying current of something more.
I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, please.”
With a quick nod of acknowledgment, he turned and climbed the stairs, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke. I found myself struggling to tear my gaze away from him, captivated by the way he moved, confident and assured.
Lizzie cleared her throat beside me, her demeanor shifting as she turned to face me fully. “Spill,” she commanded, her tone playful yet laced with a seriousness that made my heart race.
There was a teasing glint in her eyes, but I could sense an undercurrent of concern, as if she could see through the carefully constructed facade I was trying to maintain.
I turned slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, attempting to deflect her probing. “Spill what?”
She rolled her eyes, a gesture that seemed to say, “Come on, you can’t fool me.” “I’m not blind, and I’m definitely not a virgin. I know something went down. It’s literally written all over your face. But why are you acting like something’s wrong?”
She paused for a moment, letting her words hang in the air, before suddenly grabbing my left hand with a fierce grip.
“Oh, thank God. It’s still on,” she exclaimed, her breath escaping in a relieved huff as she spotted my engagement ring. Roman’s engagement ring.
I glanced down at the ring that had become a part of me, a strange comfort that I had grown accustomed to. At times, I even forgot it was there. But in that moment, it felt like a weight, a heavy burden pressing down on my chest.
“Look, Sav,” she said, her voice softening, “I don’t know what’s going on, but running away from it won’t solve anything. Trust me on that.”
“I know,” I replied, swallowing hard, the lump in my throat refusing to budge.
“Roman’s pretty chill, and that’s a good sign. He’s not running from anything-definitely not from Chloe, and certainly not from Dean.” She added with a smirk, “We are Harts, Sav. We don’t run from chaos.”
I blinked, pulling back slightly from her intensity. “That sounds too serious, Lizzie. We’re not preparing for battle.”
“With Chloe, everything is a battle. I’m seriously considering attending her wedding rehearsal with a dagger strapped to my thigh. Just in case,” she quipped, her laughter ringing out like a bell.
For a moment, I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. The absurdity of the situation lightened the heaviness in my chest, if only for a fleeting moment.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.