Page 104 of Burning Daylight
He watches me, his finger absentmindedly grazing the bottom of his chin, back and forth. “It was either that orEat the Rich, but that felt a little too cannibal-adjacent, and consideringyouare rich, I didn’t want to take any chances.”
I huff out a small laugh. “You know you’re technically rich now, too.”
“The point remains.”
There are a million different words on my tongue, prodding against the seam of my mouth, but I swallow them back down.
“Have you ever felt suffocated?” I ask instead.
“You’ll need to be more specific.”
It’s hard to give the emotions life when I’ve spent so long ignoring they exist in the first place, but for some reason, being around Roman makes me want to experience everything that living has to offer. Even the painful parts.
“I’ve lived here my entire life, and I never realized just how many parameters were set for me until I stepped outside of them. And now that I’m back, it’s just…”
His full attention is on me, his eyes searing through me like he can’t see anything else. It’s a heady sensation, and one that I remind myself I shouldn’t like feeling.
“All of the time,” he replies.
Sadness flashes across his face, and I ache to wipe away the look. I don’t like it when he looks so lost.
“Felicity’s been telling me for years to just grow a pair and break the rules.” I smile thinking about her. I haven’t talked to her much since I’ve been back, and I definitely haven’t told her about Roman, but I know she’d approve of me coming up here to see a guy I wouldn’t be allowed to see.
She’d probably throw me a party if she found out.
“Felicity’s your friend?”
I grin. “Best friend.”
He scoffs. “Doyouguys have a handshake?”
“Maybe we do.”
“You’re not gonna tell me?”
Amusement wraps around me, and talking to him like this lifts all the weight of expectation off my shoulders. Where I expected him to feel dark and heavy and dangerous, he feels light and funny and…free.
“If I told you then that would negate thesecretpart,” I say.
He sits against the edge of Upside Down Rock and crosses his arms.
“If it makes you feel any better,” I add, “I’ve never had any scandalous rendezvous with her up in the hills.”
He gives me a soft smile and then smacks his hands on his thighs. “That’s it. I’m tired of pretending like I’m not desperate for you to write about me.”
I quirk a brow. “Yeah, you’ve beenreallysubtle about it up until now.”
“It’s a gift.”
“What’s so story-worthy about us?”
He blinks. “You’re incredibly hurtful today. You’re lucky I have thick skin.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I’ve told you. I don’t really write love stories.”
Lie. I’ve written about us for years.
A slow smile blooms across his face, his eyes sparkling. “Who said anything about a love story?”
