Your voices reverberate in the space of the empty swimming pool, any unspoken feelings swallowed up by the hum of the radio and the taste of alcohol. There is a strange kind of peace that flows between you, underpined only by the dull ache in your chest.

You're reclined on one of the deck chairs Roman had brought down into the empty pool, trying to ignore the way his lips move around his cigarette, how you wish they'd kiss you like it meant something for once. Roman is reclined on the other, trying to ignore the way he misses you when you aren't right next to him, wishing you'd cuddle up with him even when you hadn't just had sex.

Roman’s laugh echoes low when he cracks a joke. But then, somewhere in the middle of it all, the conversation shifts. Maybe it’s just a glance, a subtle shift in the way he looks at you—something a little too familiar, too real for the fast love he’s used to. And you know, deep down, that this is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

Maybe you were never cut out for the kind of thing Roman Godfrey offers. The kind that comes with no strings, no complications, just easy, no-commitment hookups. You thought you could handle it, at first, maybe you had even thought it would be better that way. Thought it was enough, maybe. But then Roman starts revealing those pieces of himself that no one else sees—compassion, longing, fear. The part of him that craves something deeper, something real.

And in that moment, you realise you can't give him that. He would never ever give it back to you. So, maybe it’s easier to just ignore the way your heart feels when it's done.