Page 6 of Shattered Dreams
His smirk drops—like one of his fangirl's panties, before he repeats, "Come out with me."
I laugh and ignore him, searching the room for Kieron.
Whereishe?
"Ava," his voice commands my attention before I can stop it, my eyes locking onto his. "One date."
"Not happening."
"Why not?"
"Because I've read your type a thousand times before," I explain, lifting my cup to my lips, gaze steady on his, "and I always skip to the end."
He laughs, rich and warm and far too confident. "Then let me change the ending, Ava."
Before I can answer, Kieron materializes beside me, frowning.
"Am I interrupting something?" Kieron asks, eyebrows raised as his eyes flick between me and Roman.
Roman's gaze hardens, his grin fading. "Huh," he mutters, slow, eyes narrowing. "Is this your boyfriend?"
I blink. "No. This is Kieron. My best friend."
Roman hums, his eyes flicking over Kieron like he's sizing him up. "Best friend," he repeats, like he doesn't buy it. His smile turns lazy again, but with an edge beneath it now.
Kieron snorts. "Yeah, women and mencanactually be friends; who knew?"
Roman's jaw flexes, that cool façade cracking for half a second. "Sure, pal." Then he narrows his eyes before glancing at me.
Kieron slides an arm around my shoulders, steering me away. "Come on, love. We've got better things to do."
I let him guide me, but as we walk away, I glance back over my shoulder.
Roman watches, no longer smiling, but he nods at me like this isn't over.
My gut tells me he’s right.
"Are you okay?" Kieron asks quietly, glancing down at me as he steers me toward the door. "What a dick."
I swallow, forcing a smile I don't quite feel. "Yeah. I'm fine."
But I still feel Roman's gaze burning into my back.
We slip out onto the porch, the night air cooler, clearer. I exhale a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"What did he say?" Kieron asks, leaning against the railing, brows pulling together.
I glance over at him, hesitating. "He...asked if you were my boyfriend."
Kieron snorts, shaking his head. "American jocks—no imagination."
"You're not, though," I continue slowly, chewing the inside of my cheek. "My boyfriend."
He huffs a laugh. "Yeah, thanks for clarifying, love." But he won't quite meet my eyes.
I study him for a second, frowning. "Why would he think that?"
He rolls his eyes. "Like I said, he's got no imagination." He tips his cup to his lips, draining the last of it. "You're like my sister."
