Chapter 3
THREE
JESSE
The following couple of weeks before school starts go smoothly after our move-in.
I spend most of my time alone, since my mom and Andrew are mostly working, and even when they’re home, the last thing I want is to barge into their newlywed bubble.
So, that leaves me with walking around the block, reading, organizing and re-organizing my bedroom, and staying out of Roman’s way while he does the same.
Sometimes I run into him on our floor, on my way to or from the bathroom, and I smile at him while he nods at me, but that’s pretty much the entirety of our interactions.
I will shamelessly admit that I sneak glances at him whenever we’re in the same room, trying to learn something—anything—about him, but he barely joins us when we eat dinner, and the strange thing is that Andrew doesn’t even bat an eye.
Like he doesn’t even notice.
I would really like to talk to Roman again, but the day of our move-in is still vivid in my mind—the tension that seemed to radiate like electricity from him, the hollow look in his dark eyes, the way his messy, black hair fell forward and shielded his face when he averted his gaze.
Touching him was an impulse. I did it instinctively because I’m no stranger to looks like that. I know how easy it is to get stuck into a look like that and to have no way to pull yourself out of it.
So, no matter how I much I want to talk to him, or how much I’d thought about getting to know him so we could at least be friends, I can’t push him. I’d never push him.
It’s just that it would be really nice to know him.
It’s a couple of nights before we’re supposed to go back to school when I find him in the kitchen.
And almost yelp in an, admittingly, very charming way.
I peek around the half-wall that blocks the view of the stairs from the kitchen and take in the dark figure sitting at the counter, the faint kitchen light casting shadows on him.
Roman dips the spoon in the bowl in front of him and I can’t help noticing the carton of milk and box of chocolate cereal next to him.
I swallow the saliva gathering in my mouth, because that looks really good right now.
But the last thing I’d want is to disturb him while he’s eating in peace. It’s probably why he’s doing this in the middle of the night.
I turn around, already climbing the first couple of steps before a rough whisper stops me.
“Jesse.”
I freeze, rooted to the spot, my heart fluttering in my chest.
He said my name like he knew it was me.
How did he know it was me?
“Yes?” I whisper back.
There’s a beat of silence and I don’t even understand why it feels like I’m holding my breath.
“You don’t have to leave.”
My eyes widen at his words because it feels like so much more than what it is.
Like it’s a hesitant offer, an apology. Even though he has nothing to apologize for.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling, schooling my features into something more normal before I turn back towards the kitchen and round the corner.
He’s already looking at me when I do, his eyes dark, his gaze piercing even in the half-lit room.
“Can I eat with you?” I hear myself ask, and my throat tightens when Roman’s expression softens.
He wordlessly grabs me a bowl and spoon and sets them down next to him, and this time I do absolutely nothing to contain the beaming smile on my face.
I plop down on his right and fill my bowl with milk, topping it with the delicious chocolate-covered cereal, my mouth watering again just watching the chocolate bleed into the milk.
I hum happily when the sweetness hits my tastebuds.
Fuck, I would gladly live on this stuff.
“You like it?”
I look at him, at his tousled black hair that falls on his forehead, at his tired eyes, at the surprisingly gentle expression on his face, and it’s impossible not to stare a little.
“I love it. Maybe too much for my own good.”
He chuckles, the sound low and rusty, like he doesn’t do it often.
It makes me want to hear it again.
We’re silent for a while before he says, “I’m sorry for shutting you out, Jesse.”
My eyebrows fly up to my hairline as I meet his gaze, not knowing what to say. His eyes are boring into mine with an intensity I don’t understand.
But what I do understand is that he’s choosing to show me how vulnerable he is in this, how much it seems to be burdening him, and I don’t want him to feel like this.
“I will forgive you on one condition,” I quip with a half-smile, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
His dark eyes warm in realization of what I’m trying to do. Distract him.
“Oh yeah?” he asks, turning to face me, his lips curling into a small smile of his own. “And what’s that?”
“You’ll have to share your late-night snacks with me.”
His mouth twitches like mad and it’s crazy difficult to keep a straight face.
“Alright.”
“And you’ll say ‘hey’ every time we see each other.”
“That’s more than one condition.”
“I’m not done talking, Roman.”
He chuckles again and it feels like the biggest accomplishment. There is a twinkle in his eyes that I’ve never seen in the two weeks we’ve been here, something light shining through that makes my breath hitch.
“And what else, Jesse?”
My voice is soft when I speak, and even if my eyes drop briefly to my lap, the semi-darkness makes me brave enough to ask.
“And you’ll be my friend.”
I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to me but I want it. I want him to let me be his friend and I want him to be mine too.
He says nothing and I swallow hard, thinking I’ve pushed him too much.
But then, there are warm fingers catching the locks that have fallen in front of my face and tucking them behind my ear in a barely-there touch, piercing eyes meeting mine when I lift my head.
“Okay.”
“What?” I blurt out, the side of my face still hot from where his fingers grazed my skin.
He shakes his head, laughing silently, his body turning towards the counter once again to fill up his bowl.
“You’re terrible at making demands.”
I sigh, digging into my cereal that has turned into mush by now.
“I know,” I mutter, chewing on my mush. “I’m even worse with my mom.”
I chance a glance at him under my lashes at the same time he looks my way, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grinning like a lunatic.
“Alright then,” he rumbles. “Now that we’ve established our new ground rules, do you want to tell me why you’re up so late?”
Well. That’s one way to kill any happy feelings in me.
“Um… I—” I hesitate, not knowing how to respond to that. So I don’t. “What, you think you’re the only one who gets hungry in the middle of the night?” I say, stuffing more soaked cereal into my mouth, as something in my chest tightens.
Silence follows my words, and I can’t not look at him.
His gaze is searching in the amber kitchen light. Searching and knowing. But he doesn’t say anything, looking over at me patiently. Not pushing either. Waiting.
It makes the earlier tightness loosen.
I sigh over my bowl.
“I have a very complicated relationship with sleep.” Understatement of the fucking year. “I’m mostly fine, but changes don’t do me any favors. And with school starting again, I’m more awake than asleep.”
A beat passes, before he slowly nods.
“Are you worried about school, Jesse?”
I want to laugh, but there’s nothing funny. It’s just that his question scratches against something raw inside me.
“Well, Roman, look at me.” I peer at him unflinchingly, almost daring him, testing him, an ugly smile twisting my lips. “Don’t you think someone like me should be worried about school?”
His gaze never strays from mine, and when he speaks again, there’s something hard and cold in the tone of his voice.
“Someone like you?”
Yes. Someone who looks like me, leaner, softer, more feminine. Who wears his hair long. Who dresses in pinks, and lilacs, and light blues with cute patterns because they’re lovely. Someone who’s not like others want him to be.
None of this passes through my lips though, the words stuck in my throat.
But for some reason, I don’t have to say anything as Roman’s expression softens.
“It’ll be alright, Jesse.” His tone is gentle, but uncompromising, almost like a promise, and a shiver runs through me.
My throat is dry when I try to swallow, and all I can do is stare at him as he stands up in his black T-shirt and black sweatpants, and goes to wash his bowl in the sink.
“You can’t know that,” I whisper, but he hears it, glancing at me over his shoulder.
My heart thumps loudly in my ears when he stops in front of me again, moving the cereal box closer to me.
“Pour in some more,” he says, amusement making the corner of his lips curl up when he sees the mush in my bowl. “Your sweet tooth probably needs it.” His gaze feels like a physical touch when it falls on my face again. “Get some rest after, okay?”
I can only nod, mumbling my ‘okay,’ watching as he nods back and turns around, leaving me there, sitting alone in the darkness, something unnamed fluttering persistently in my chest, and thinking that I might have dreamt up this whole interaction after all.
***
As it turns out, I didn’t actually dream up the interaction with Roman. Because it’s not the only one we have.
Two days later, I’m up early, getting ready to leave for the first day of school.
Well, up early implies that I actually slept, which might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I guess whatever sleep I got will have to do.
I only have time to grab a quick bite before I go, since I’m walking there. Thankfully, it’s not too far away, which is good, considering that at some point it’s going to get cold as fuck and I really don’t want to turn into a cute, blond-haired icicle.
The kitchen is quiet as I chew on my piece of toast, which makes sense since Mom and Andrew have already left for work. But it’s because it’s this quiet that I don’t miss the click of a door shutting, followed by footsteps coming down the stairs.
The persistent flutter in my chest comes back with a vengeance, so I gulp down some coffee to drown it just as Roman rounds the corner to the kitchen.
A flicker of surprise passes through his eyes, before his lips tip up into a small smile.
“Hey,” he says.
And fuck if that small word doesn’t make me stare stupidly at him.
Because he remembers. He remembers our silly pact over milk and cereal.
“Hey,” I say back, not even trying to hide how giddy this little thing just made me. And judging by his expression, I think he likes it. “Want some coffee and toast?”
He looks at me as if I’ve just spoken in an alien language, but eventually he nods.
“Sure.”
You’d expect the silence to be awkward as we both lean with our backs against the counter, having our simple breakfast, but it’s not. It’s not at all.
“Why are you up so early?”
I thought his eyes were black, but from this close they’re actually a really dark brown, like the color of the darkest, thickest hot chocolate.
“I didn’t want to be late for school, and since Mom needs the car to get to work, I’m walking.”
He watches me for a moment over his mug, before setting it down.
“I can give you a ride if you want.”
I blink at him.
“To school?”
His lips twitch.
“Where else?”
I clear my throat as my face heats.
“Good point.” I take a sip of my own coffee to keep my hands busy so I don’t fidget all over the fucking place. “Are you sure it’s no problem?”
His eyes soften, before a glint of amusement flashes through them.
“I’m sure. After all, what are friends for, right?”
I smile up at him, feeling warm all of a sudden. “Right.” His eyes are still soft. “Thank you.”
He simply nods, finishing up his coffee, before he goes upstairs to get dressed while I wait for him downstairs to take us to school.
And he does, just like he does the next day, and the day after that.
He drives us there, and then he waits for me so he can drive us back home.
I don’t even ask him to do it. He’s just there waiting for me the very first day, leaning against the car with his arms crossed, and then he simply never stops.
I have to bite my lip to keep myself from chuckling every time I see him waiting for me, always dressed in black, sometimes smoking a cigarette, a permanently annoyed look on his face, shooting fucking glares at anyone who dares to bump against him.
One day a couple of weeks later, I lift up on my toes and kiss his cheek when I reach him, to see if his expression will change. If the scowl will vanish. If the annoyed look will disappear.
It does.
He looks at me like he has no idea what just happened, the confusion obvious in his expression. But the scowl smooths out, and his annoyance melts away.
So, I do it again the next day, and the day after that, until I’m almost certain I don’t have to lift myself all the way up because he’s meeting me halfway.
We don’t really spend time together apart from our drives, but somehow it feels like I also get to see more of him at home.
Maybe it’s because he starts leaving his door open sometimes, which I take as an invitation to bother him with stupid shit.
Like on Tuesday afternoon.
“Your music is too loud, neighbor.”
Or Thursday evening.
“Can I borrow a chewing gum?”
Or Friday night.
“Whatcha doing?”
Or maybe it’s because we’re having breakfast together most mornings, even though we’re both very sleepy and we don’t talk much, Roman wordlessly handing me my coffee and toast, or my milk and cereal if he’s up before me.
All I know is that it’s comfortable, and nice.
Yes.
It feels really nice.