Page 21 of Don't Look Away

“You’ll see,” he says, pulling me out of the room, and down the stairs. We leave through the backdoor, but instead of getting into Roman’s car, we walk right past it, and onto campus.

Where in God’s name are we going?

In just a couple minutes, my question is answered, though, because we walk up to the faculty club on campus. It’s a centuries-old building that’s surrounded by a rose garden that’s in full bloom. It’s gorgeous, and as we approach, I notice several people are gathered.

“Is this some kind of event?” I ask, but as usual, he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to, actually, because as we get closer, it becomes apparent. There’s a large framed picture of Bree on an easel surrounded by huge, elegant bouquets of flowers.

Before we join the crowd, I pause, pulling Roman to a stop. He turns to look at me. “What is this?” I ask.

He turns to face me fully, squeezing my hand. “It’s a memorial for Bree,” he says, his eyes catching mine. “You never got to say goodbye.”

Tears immediately gather in my eyes, and I’m overcome with the emotion of confronting thisright nowwith no warning whatsoever. “This was a dick move. You should have told me,” I say.

My harsh words don’t seem to phase him in the least. “If I’d told you, then you wouldn’t have come.” He takes my chin, tilting it up, so I’m looking directly at him. “And you need closure, Lux.”

I break when he says that. I just shatter right there in front of him, sinking against his chest, and letting the tears come. I couldn’t stop them if I wanted to, anyway. The idea of saying a final goodbye to my best friend in the whole world is so incredibly painful that I wonder if I’ll ever shake the sadness.

Roman soothes me as I cry all over his crisp white shirt, running his fingers through my hair, swaying gently. He waits patiently as I let it all out, and when I’ve finally exhausted myself, he uses his cloth handkerchief to wipe my tears away.

I sniff and try to pull myself together. When I look down at his shirt, I notice my mascara has gotten all over it, black streaks bleeding into the fabric. “I ruined your shirt,” I say through sharp intakes of breath.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, brushing the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “It’s just a shirt.”

The memorial is lovely. About fifty people from the Burning Crown, and the university at large come to pay their respects. Jackson, Christian, and Lucas are here, too, right by my side the entire time, helping host. The guys must have put this all together.

As I look around, I realize none of these people really knew Bree, but it was nice of them to show up for her anyway. Towards the end, I stand up and say a few words about Bree, and we all toast to her with our glasses of champagne held high.

She would have eaten this whole thing up. She loved being the center of attention, and this beautiful memorial is exactly what she deserved.

When it’s all over, Roman walks me back to Rush House. I’m exhausted, and I lean on him as we walk, my arm twisted around his. “Thank you for today,” I say, looking up at him. “It was nice of you to put that together for Bree.”

He glances down at me. “I didn’t do it for her.”

“Then thank you for me,” I say. “But you know what this means, don’t you? Today was indisputable evidence that you have a functioning heart, after all.”

He laughs under his breath. “You’ve managed to breathe some life into it, I guess.”

Over the next few weeks, Roman and I find a rhythm, falling into a new kind of normal. Classes during the day, fast food and television in bed in the evenings, and sex-filled nights. It’s a strange sort of bliss because beneath it all is an undercurrent of tension like we both know this is all going to end at some point, sooner or later.

It’s early on a Wednesday, when I roll out of bed and go downstairs to grab some coffee, drinking it out on the living room veranda, watching as the sun creeps up over the horizon.

When I get back up to Roman’s bedroom, he’s still sleeping, so I get dressed quietly. I’m tempted to blow off class and crawl back into bed with him, but I’ve already missed several lectures, and the more behind I get, the harder it will be to catch up.

“Where are you going?” Roman asks, rising up onto one arm, his voice rough from sleep. Goddamn, he looks so fucking hot first thing in the morning. Groggy, his wavy hair mussed, his expression relaxed.

I’m glancing over my shoulder at him as I zip up my jeans. “I have class. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Reaching over, he grabs ahold of my leg and yanks me back, so I lose my balance and fall on top of him. I yelp as he wraps his strong arms around me, and rolls me onto my back, so he’s on top. “Don’t leave.”

I laugh as I struggle to break free, but it’s pretty pointless. He’s half-on top of me, pinning me to the bed. “I can’t. I have class.”

Dipping his head, he presses his warm lips to my throat, kissing my skin languidly. It feels so nice, I tilt my head to the side, and consider giving in to him. It would be so nice to strip, and crawl back into the warm bed with him.

“I’ll have someone take notes for you,” he mumbles, kissing his way up my throat, to the underside of my chin. His tongue darts out to taste my skin.

“I really need to go,” I say, trying to twist out of his grip, but I can’t. He’s too strong. “But I’ll be back before you even wake up,” I say again, hoping that will satisfy him.

With a groan, he loosens his hold, and rolls off me, allowing me to wiggle out from under him. I crawl off the bed and stand before he can change his mind. When I turn back around to look at him, he’s sitting up against the headboard, watching me. He holds his pinky out to me. “Swear to me you’ll come right back.”

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