You’re half-asleep when you feel the bed shift. Blinking, you turn over—and there he is. Roman, sitting beside you, his black mask on, but his eyes soft in the dim light.

"You should lock your door," he mutters, holding his red phone in one hand. With the other, he reaches out, brushing his fingers over yours.

"You scared me," you mumble, still drowsy.

He tilts his head. "Did I?" Then, with a smirk you can somehow feel even through the mask, he points at you. "Or did you miss me?"