3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Lance
I want to say something. Anything. I’m itching to taunt him about actually making me food, because that’s what we’re always doing with one another.
Our banter is constant and overshadows the niggling feeling in my chest that I should say something kind about it instead, so I choose to keep my mouth closed.
My eyes continue to veer his direction as I cut up my quesadilla into smaller pieces and shove the first bite into my mouth.
My eyes flutter closed as I moan in pleasure.
The tangy seasoning of the meat mixes with the crisp tomatoes and sour cream, creating a swirling tornado of pleasure on my tongue.
How the fuck does he know how to cook like this?
I swear that Roman excels at everything he does. It’s absolutely infuriating.
He’s still standing across the counter mixing the sauce that I thought he was finished with considering he served us each a bowl, but he continues to stir absentmindedly. His movements are calculated though, almost… clinical.
Everything about Roman is. Calculated, I mean.
He always has something that he’s up to.
Every word from his mouth and every move he makes is premeditated.
Being in his presence feels like playing a game of chess when you don’t even know how the pieces work.
At all times, you’re one wrong move away from a catastrophe while blissfully unaware of how close to failure you actually are.
It’s starting to grow old though, honestly.
Tiptoeing around him and trying to crack the facade he wears for everyone.
I keep telling myself that it’ll be worth it, that he’ll give in and let me in eventually.
They always say that persistence pays off, right?
It hasn’t, though. Not even a little bit.
I have him on my hook, but the closer I try to get to him, the more he seems to pull away from me.
I’m stuck in limbo, wondering if I’m completely wasting my time, or if I’m actually managing to make progress.
If I was even remotely interested in the guy at the shop today, I would’ve told Roman to fuck right off.
To shove his lunch and dinner right up his ass while he goes to find a new hobby, because it’s obvious that’s all I am to him. A hobby.
He sits behind those fucking screens and watches my every move like a stalker.
I won’t even lie; It was thrilling at first. Knowing that I could look up at the cameras, and he’d be there, on the other side of them.
It felt like I always had someone with me, even when I was alone, but now…
Now it’s starting to become a fucking nuisance.
Do I live for every ounce of attention that he gives me?
Abso-fucking-lutely. It’s Roman Easton, for crying out loud.
That doesn’t make it any less problematic when it comes to losing my virginity. Which, I would very much like to do.
“How’s work been? Anything interesting happening around here?” I lean into one of the safest topics I can, steering clear of anything that might start an argument between us while trying to alleviate the awkwardness of the silence.
He just shoved a bite of quesadilla in his mouth, so he mumbles something, before pausing to swallow first. “There’s someone new in the building.”
My eyebrows raise instinctively as I glance up at him. “Really? Newer than Everest?”
“Everest and Axel? Yeah,“ He nods distractedly. “Newer.” He adds without looking up from his plate.
I always seem to forget that Axel even exists.
It’s easy to escape my thoughts when he came in at the same time as Everest, yet I’ve never even met the guy.
They didn’t just get here at the same time though; They arrived together.
For whatever reason, they were immediately separated, and we weren’t told what the reasoning behind that was.
It’s strange because when people come here together, they usually stay together.
Cain and Devlin, for example, are inseparable, and they aren’t the only pair that way.
It just doesn’t make much sense to me, but… not my circus, not my monkey.
“Really? When did he get here?”
“Yes, really. I’m not exactly sure when he got here, though. I combed through weeks of footage, but I can’t find anything. It’s like he just… appeared.“ He makes a poofing gesture with his free hand. “The cameras never catch him coming through any of the exterior doors.”
His brows furrow as he shoves a bite of food into his mouth.
He seems to get lost in thought over the whole debacle, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
There isn’t a single thing that’s ever happened in this place that Roman doesn’t know about, and the fact that this has him so confused is kind of… unsettling.
“He just… showed up? Does Maven know?”
He nods before taking a drink of water to wash down his food. “He’s always with Maven or Ollivander. He never leaves their side. Ever.”
“Do you know his name or anything? What does he look like?” I ask as I set my fork down. I haven’t even finished my food yet, but he’s caught my attention. That’s not difficult to do when you have ADHD, though.
He stuffs another bite of food into his mouth and then points over to his monitors, leaving his food behind to walk over to his desk.
I get up and follow him to the living room, standing close behind as he pulls out his chair.
I’m so close to him that I can feel the heat from his body radiating into mine, and it has my whole body itching to reach out for him.
I could lean in and touch his arm, rest my hands on his hips as I lean around him to look at the computer screens, or guide him into his seat by the small of his back.
Something subtle and sweet. He shifts his weight, his shoulder leaning into mine and I almost tilt my head to rest it on him before reality slaps me in the face.
That isn’t us. That isn’t my reality. What would he think if I would’ve done that? God. He’d fucking kill me.
I decide to give him, and me, a little space, taking a few steps back. I do my best to get comfortable, casually leaning against the arm of the couch. I defensively cross my arms over my chest as if that can protect me from all the asinine thoughts running through my brain.
He clicks through a couple feeds, trying to find where the guy is at.
I watch in awe as he flawlessly navigates between multiple screens with accuracy and speed that blows my mind.
There are a lot of things about Roman that I find admirable, and his dedication to his job is one of them.
He lives and breathes the security of this prison, and it’s fucking hot.
In fact, I almost feel… special sitting here with him.
I doubt many people have been gifted the opportunity to come into his world the way he’s letting me in right now.
It kind of feels like the chasm between us has closed by a mere inch.
It’s isn’t much, but progress is still progress, right?
“His name is Salem, or that’s what they’ve been calling him.” He explains as he points to the screen.
I inch forward to get a better look, but still cant see him very well.
I eventually cave, and end up stepping back behind him to see better, resting my hands on the back of his chair as I lean in closer.
The guy on the screen is shorter, like me, but he’s really lanky.
Honestly, he looks severely malnourished.
The clothes he’s wearing loosely hang off his body, and what’s exposed of his arms are mostly bone. He’s a frail little thing.
“Jesus. Where did they find him? He looks starved, Roman.” I say, my voice crackling.
I glance down to Roman at the same time he looks up at me, our eyes locking.
We’re mere inches apart and I can almost feel electricity sparking back and forth between us.
It’s like the sliver of air separating us is caressing my body, trying to convince me to move closer.
He shifts, his chair spinning just enough that his shoulder brushes across my stomach, and the simple touch feels like a nuclear explosion.
Every inch of my body tingles, desperate for more.
I fucking hate that he has this effect on me. A single look, a single touch, a single fucking breath, that’s all it takes. Something about him pulls me in and makes me want to keep coming back for more and more of his special brand of torture. Nothing about it makes any fucking sense.
I almost swear that I see him glance down at my lips before tearing his eyes away from me and turning back to the screen.
“I know,” he replies with just as much concern in his voice.
“I’ve never seen him before, so he wasn’t already living here.
He didn’t come in the front door either, so that’s the same question I’ve been asking.
Where did he come from, and why does he look like he’s knocking on death’s door? ”
“How long has he been here?” I ask as I put some space between us, going back to my seat on the arm of the couch.
“A while. The first time I saw him was two weeks ago, but he came out of Maven’s room then.
I can’t even find footage of him going in there, and there’s no telling how long he was in there, so I’m not exactly sure.
“ He explains as he watches the guy on the camera. Salem isn’t doing much, just watching Maven file some paperwork, but I don’t know how the guy has any energy. He looks pitiful.
“Are they— have they been feeding him?” I ask with genuine uneasiness as I glance back down at Roman. He spins around to face me, tapping a pen against his thigh.