I glanced up at Eric. He was still watching me, like he wanted something. I couldn’t tell what. A reaction, maybe. Validation that he still had an effect on me.
“You never liked the weird ones,” I said. My tone was even, but my heart was buzzing under my ribs.
He shrugged. “Maybe I just didn’t understand them. I do now.”
Liar. He didn’t understand anything that wasn’t marketable in under thirty seconds or didn’t get a thousand likes by lunchtime. But the compliment was gentle, polished, and just wistful enough to be dangerous.
I swallowed, my throat tight. “Well. I’m glad you’re seeing things differently.”
“I really am,” he said, a little too quickly. “Do you ever think about?-“
Roman cleared his throat pointedly. I could feel his gaze even without turning. Eric straightened in his seat.
I let out a quiet breath and smiled sweetly. “About what? Quitting shampoo and moving to an alpaca farm? All the time.”
Eric laughed, but it was a little forced. There was a flicker of irritation beneath it, that slight narrowing of his eyes. He didn’t like being interrupted. Especially not when he was trying to come across as emotionally vulnerable.
He still hadn’t let go of the version of me who had bent herself to keep the peace. But that girl had been tired. Tired of managing his moods. Tired of shrinking so he could shine.
I wasn’t tired anymore.
“Anyway,” I said, picking up my glass, “you and Bianca seem very… in sync.”
He smiled, eyes flicking to his girlfriend, who was now doing deep breathing in time with the music. “Yeah. She’s great. Peaceful. You know how hectic things used to be.”
Oof. There it was. The sideways jab. “Totally. I mean, you’re the one who told me chaos was sexy, but what do I know?”
Roman snorted. Bianca opened her eyes and took Eric’s hand with both of hers, humming under her breath like the vibrations would align the molecules in the air around her.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Eric, to his credit, tried to recover. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just… you seem good. Genuinely. I’m happy for you.”
“I am good,” I said.
Roman’s jaw tensed. Without warning, he shifted closer and slid his hand over mine beneath the table. “Mags. Dance with me.”
I froze. “We’re in a restaurant.”
“Technically, we’re in a temple of beet foam and air chakras. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
He stood and pulled me up before I could argue. We swayed between tables, awkward and out of place. Roman dipped me low, leaned in, and whispered, “You’re mine tonight. Play along, honeybun.”
And then he kissed me. It was a show-stopping, stomach-flipping, brain-melting kiss. I knew it was for show. For Eric. But my body didn’t seem to care. I let out a breathless laugh when he pulled away.
Eric stood up. “Maggie, can I talk to you privately? Just for a second?”
I blinked, still dazed. I did not want to do that. “I actually have… an appointment… I forgot about.”
Roman threw an arm around my waist without missing a beat. “Yeah. An appointment.” He tossed some cash onto the table and led us out of the restaurant.
We barely made it out the door before laughter spilled out of me like carbonation. The sidewalk had never looked so good, and the air had never smelled so good.
We walked through the city, side by side. Eventually, Roman draped his arm over my shoulders, and I leaned into him as warmth spread through my chest. The glow of neon signs and string lights reflected off puddles on the cracked sidewalk. Behind it all, the skyline glittered like it was showing off.
“That was almost worth it,” he said. “Just to see you laugh like that.”
I glanced up at him, and my heart fluttered like a traitor.
My stomach growled, saving me from saying anything in reply. “I’m starving. The beets and kale didn’t quite cut it.”
Roman nodded. “Yeah, let’s find some real food.”
We found a food truck parked on a side street, wedged between a laundromat with a mural of sea lions and a corner bodega blasting old-school hip hop. The truck looked like it hadn’t passed inspection in years, paint peeling and one headlight cracked. We ordered everything: burritos, fries, funnel cake, and tacos in two varieties.
“We wait until we’re home. Like adults,” Roman said solemnly. “This is delayed gratification. Character building.”
At the apartment, we spread the feast out across the coffee table and opened a bottle of wine.
I took the throw pillows off the sofa to make room, but Roman snatched them from me. “Roommate agreement violation. Immediate consequence: five minutes of sustained eye contact and one sincere compliment. I put my face on those, Mags. Have some respect.”
I rolled my eyes and helped him rearrange them. Everything felt light and easy even though I was still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. We sat close on the floor, our knees brushing. The conversation turned more date-like than either of us probably meant.
“What’s your favorite movie?” I asked.
Roman considered. “It used to be something dramatic and artsy. But lately? Probably
Howl’s Moving Castle. Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”
I smiled. “You just like the fire demon.”
“Maybe. What would you be doing if you weren’t designing full-time?”
“Something ridiculous. Like mural painting or interior restoration. I don’t know.”
We laughed and talked about our awkward middle school years. Roman confessed he’d been in drama club. “Drama club: Wolf Edition,” he said. “Every monologue had a snarl.”
After two glasses of wine, he grinned. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is this high school again?”
“You’re just scared of what I’ll ask.”
Maybe I was. But not for the reason he thought. I set down my wine. “Game on.”
Roman
The wine bottle was nearly empty. Maggie was flushed and glowing, laughing with her whole body like she didn’t know how to hold anything back. It wasn’t the alcohol. It was something wilder, all loose and warm and golden. And it was killing me.
She tipped her glass back, took another sip, then narrowed those big, mischievous eyes at me. “Truth or dare, Velasquez?”
I smirked, masking the way my heart jumped every time she said my name like that. “Dare.”
She reached into the greasy brown paper bag from the food truck and pulled out one of the peppers we’d both sworn we were too sober to mess with. “Eat this. Whole. No breaks. No water.”
I took it like a challenge, even though I already knew I’d regret it. I bit into the thing like it was a damn apple. It was like swallowing lava, and I choked back a curse while Maggie doubled over laughing. “Oh my god, Roman!”
I grabbed a handful of tortilla chips to save my life. “I’m dying,” I rasped, coughing, eyes watering. “I see the light.”
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