Page 22 of Don't Look Away

I stare at it, wondering if it’s just a ploy to capture me again.

“Do it, or I tackle you and keep you as my prisoner,” he says lazily.

With a sigh, I step forward and hook my pinky around his. “Fine, I pinky swear.Sheesh.”

He smiles and points at me. “A pinky swear is legally binding. Remember that.”

Shaking my head, I laugh and grab my backpack. “Who would have known there’s actually a nerd under that sexy surfer bod?”

“Birds of a feather,” he calls out as I leave, shutting the door behind me.

Class issuperboring, and halfway through, I regret choosing this dull lecture over a morning in bed with Roman. But adulting, right? I can’t spend my entire life in bed with Roman, much as I’d like to. I have a GPA to maintain, otherwise, I could lose my scholarship.

Once class is over, I honor my pinky swear and head right back to Rush House. But when I open the door to Roman’s bedroom, I’m instantly hit with the delicate fragrance of freshly cut flowers. Roman is gone, and the entire room is filled, wall to wall with bouquets—peonies, roses, lilies, in every possible shade of pink or white.

I suck in a breath, shocked.

“What the…?” I walk over to the bouquet closest to me and read the note.

“There are two souls, whose equal flow…”

It looks like it’s a poem or something, spread out over several cards, so I grab them all and read them together.

“There are two Souls, whose equal flow

In gentle stream so calmly run,

That when they part—they part?—ah no!

They cannot part—those Souls are One.”

Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, and I blink them back. A quick search on my phone reveals it’s a poem by Lord Byron, and it’s abouttwo souls becoming one.

What the fuck is happening? Does Roman have a brain lesion? Is it possible he had a stroke? Suddenly, I’m more worried than flattered.

Heavy footsteps approach the door, and I quickly tuck the cards into my pocket, spinning around just in time to see Roman walk through the door.

“Damn, I was hoping to get home before you,” he says with that devastating smile.

I turn and lift my hand, indicating the flowers. “What’s all this?”

Eating up the space between us with his long legs, he pulls me into his arms. “You’ve had a difficult few weeks, and I wanted you to know that I’ve got you.”

The handwritten note on the cards–the poem–speaks to a deep, soul connection, and I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going to mention it. Instead, he just presses a kiss to my forehead and smiles down at me.

Okay, if he won’t mention it, then I will. There’s no use beating around the bush. If Bree’s death has taught me anything, it’s that life is too short, and games are a waste of precious time.

“The poem was sweet.” I place my hand on his chest, and pull back a little, glancing up at him from under my lashes. “What does it mean?”

Beneath my palm, I can feel his heartbeat kick up a few notches. He pulls in a deep breath. “I’ll tell you,” he says, “but first, I have a surprise.”

I smile up at him. “Okay, what is it?”

He steps back, and takes my hand, then leads me out of the room, downstairs, and outside.

“Where are you taking me?” I laugh as he pulls me down the graveled path that leads down to the ocean, but halfway down that path, it forks off and leads to a wrought iron gate. Beyond that is an infinity hot tub that looks like it drops right off the edge of a cliff that overlooks the Pacific Ocean.

The hot tub was made to look like a natural hot spring, and it’s surrounded by bougainvillea that cascades down over the edge of the cliff. Food and champagne are arranged on a low table within reach of the hot tub.

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