11. Roman #2
He runs a hand through his hair. “He, uh… he asked me to walk with him to the pool after class yesterday. I did, because it’s all out in the open, on campus, around other people—”
“Tate, it’s okay,” I say quickly. “You are allowed to live your life.”
He swallows. “Well, before he went to start swimming laps, he asked if I wanted to fuck in the bathroom.”
I grip my keys in my hand so hard the metal bites into my palm. “During the hour I was in my Advanced Physio class?”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“So it’s pretty goddamn obvious he’s gay, and I already told you he’s into me—”
“Did he fuck you, Tate?”
He puffs out a quick laugh. “God. No. Jesus, Roman, you think I was getting dicked down in the gym bathroom while you were in class?”
My body relaxes, but I still feel like I’m ready to leap on prey.
“I see.”
“I told him I didn’t want to, and he cooled his jets a little. But he still wants to go to the fair with me. So, what do you think?”
“I don’t think this person is a threat. Probably. Now that we know the true origin of the threats as Lucian Farina…”
“Right.”
I nod. “So tomorrow, going to the fair is a date. For you and him.”
Tate shrugs. “I really didn’t expect it to be, but I think he clearly sees it that way now.”
I shift on the driver’s side seat, looking away from him. “You will be safe. You can go on your date, and I will make sure he is not going to hurt you.”
“And you don’t have a problem with that?”
I set my jaw and shove the keys into the ignition. “Let’s head home.”
The next evening, we’re walking through the center of campus toward the Fall Lantern Fair, and I feel like I’m about to blow.
My skin is warm, even though it’s slightly chilly out.
And I feel like there’s a threat even though I damn well know there isn’t one.
The lantern fair is normally one of my favorite campus events.
It’s when the quad looks best, with the whole place lit by tons of hanging paper lanterns strung through the trees.
The whole area is glowing, and up ahead is the fair, where there are rows of games, food stalls, and some people selling little arts and crafts for charity.
But I’m barely looking at any of it.
I keep my eyes trained on Tate like I’m watching over a prince.
He’s wearing a white long-sleeve shirt under a brown bomber jacket, with jeans that hug his ass like a glove. Tate already turns heads wherever he goes, but tonight, something about him is even more eye-catching. His hair is extra fluffy from a recent shower, and even his face just looks…
He looks perfect.
I walk closer to Tate than I normally do as we approach the crowded festival at the center of the quad. Live music fills the air from a student band playing acoustic instruments up on a little stage.
“Fuck yes,” Tate says. “This is exactly what I need. It smells like cinnamon.”
I put my hand on his back to move him as another group of students walks by, and after they pass, I leave it there. My fingers feel for the back hem of his shirt and I push under it, sliding over his skin.
“Fall is your favorite season?”
“Of course,” he says. “Well. Summer is fucking amazing, too. And spring always feels good.”
“So you like everything other than winter.”
He grimaces. “Who would like winter? Cold, gray, ugly, no leaves on the trees, salt all over the roads, snow that gets dark from the mud, can’t wear tank tops outdoors…”
“Damn.”
“I bet winter is your favorite season,” he teases me.
“Well, it is the best season. It’s not my favorite. It’s objectively the best.”
“Of course.”
“You get Christmas,” I explain. “You can bundle up around the fire, inside or outside, and not be overheating. Ice skating. Ice storms… I love winter.”
“You are probably the only person on Earth who thinks ice storms are a good aspect of winter.”
I feel my lips twist into a wry smile. I lean over and bite the top of his ear and he laughs, giving me a playful shove.
“You’re a polar bear.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pause on the walkway, standing beneath an oak tree.
Yegor Petrov
What is it, Roman? You don’t like us anymore?
Roman
I’ve been busy. You know that.
I have been, too.
A photo comes through from Yegor.
A picture of a gold bracelet with a small circular charm. I know the charm well. It’s embossed with a small Maletti M, distinctive because they always put a slash through the same part of the M.
Red splotches are spattered over the gold.
Fresh blood.
Fuck.
What the fuck is Yegor doing?
“You okay?” Tate asks me, turning around on the walkway and looping back toward me.
I glance up at him and feel like I just got ripped into another world.
“I need to make a phone call. Will you wait, just for a minute?” I ask.
“Of course.”
I cross over toward a cluster of trees. We’re still far enough outside the festival that no one is congregating on this spot of the quad, and I pace around between two thick tree trunks, tapping Yegor’s number.
It only rings once before he picks up.
“Finally, something gets your attention enough for you to call,” Yegor says right when he answers.
“Explain.”
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“What did you do on your own?” I ask in a low, even tone, trying not to show how angry I am while Tate is nearby. I’m not sure if he can hear my conversation from where he’s standing.
“Excuse me? I can’t go have fun hunting without papa Roman out there with me?” Yegor asks. “You’ve been busy. If you’re not going to come to your father’s dinners, or meet with me to talk strategy, then I’m going to take action on my own.”
“We don’t need strategy right now. We need information. Killing random Maletti grunts isn’t going to do anything but piss them off—”
“I want to piss them off. You hate the Maletti family as much as I do.”
I rip off a thick strip of bark from the tree in front of me, tossing it to the ground.
How does Yegor not understand that this is why I am avoiding him?
Part of the reason, at least.
Watching over Tate has been a much more absorbing task than I anticipated, and I’ve been drawn to him more than… anything else in my life.
It’s felt amazing not to think about this.
The Malettis.
The war Yegor seems to want so badly.
“I hate them more than you’re capable of hating anything in the world. I assure you. But I want them fully gone. I don’t want to re-start the war.”