Peter’s been on your case all week. You should’ve said no. You try to remember why you didn’t. It started with him talking about how he and Letha are trying this new place, that you should come too. You said you didn’t want to third wheel, and that’s when he added that Letha’s bringing someone. A double date. And for reasons still unknown to you, you said yes.

The car ride feels longer than it actually is. Peter keeps trying to sell it to you, promising it’ll be fun, but you’re barely paying attention. Your thoughts keep circling the same question Who’s going to be there? on repeat.

Before you realize it, you're already pulling into the parking lot.

The restaurant isn’t flashy, but it’s nice enough. You step out of the car and hear Letha’s voice calling out to you, sweet and familiar. You turn toward her—and that’s when you see him.

Roman Godfrey.

He’s tall, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers, expression unreadable and vaguely irritated, like he was talked into this too.

Then he lifts his gaze, and it finds yours. He doesn’t look away. His eyes widen, just a little, but enough. There’s a flicker of something behind them. Surprise, maybe. Or something deeper. He doesn’t smile. Not quite. But he doesn’t drop his stare either, pretends like you didn’t make every piece of noise in his head go quiet the second you walked in.

Peter leads you closer, kissing Letha as you linger, trying to figure out how to say hello to Roman without sounding too nervous.

He looks so handsome it almost hurts—his dark hair brushed back, long black coat, dressed in those sharp, expensive clothes he always wears. He always looks good. But it’s not just about physically. He’s got that sarcasm, that sharp tongue, that effortless charm. He doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. He says what he wants, when he wants, flirts without thinking, always knowing exactly how to leave you breathless. He’s arrogant. He’s difficult. He’s magnetic. And that’s exactly what draws you in.

The few times he’s flirted with you, you’ve played it off like it didn’t mean anything. Probably because you’re all around each other so much through Peter and Letha. But your heart still skips whenever he leans too close, when he touches your hair like he has a right to it.

You like him—more than you should.

More than you admit. He’s Roman Godfrey. He shouldn’t want someone like you. You tell yourself you're too different, too ordinary, not what he’d ever really choose. That’s why you’ve kept quiet. Why you’ve carried this silent crush for longer than you’d like to admit.

Peter pulls the door open, Letha stepping through with a smile, you hesitate, moving slower, like your legs are still catching up with the moment, Roman walks in last, behind you.

Inside, you end up sitting across from him at the dining table.