15. Roman

15

ROMAN

T he drive had taken away some of my restless feelings. As I gripped the leather steering wheel, my Jaguar roaring down the quiet country roads, smoothly navigating the twists and turns, I finally managed to do what I did best. Lock my emotions away. It was easier that way, and I was good at it. Having absent parents had given me enough practice over the years, after all.

My mask was fucking perfect, and tonight, I'd remind everyone of just who Roman Cavendish was.

When I descended the stairs to the crypts, the first person I saw was Harriet, who attempted to thrust a drink into my hand. Ignoring her, I headed for the fridge and helped myself to a beer, popping the cap myself. Whether or not she was trying to be helpful, I wasn't going to accept drinks from anyone unless they happened to be one of my two best mates. There was no one else I trusted at this point, not even my lacrosse teammates.

"Roman." Freya stepped in front of me, eyeing me from beneath abnormally long false lashes. Her blonde hair was curled, cascading over her shoulders, the ends teasing the swell of her tits, which were barely covered by a low-cut green top. Ever since Knox had become unavailable, her attention had been on me. And fuck it, this was what I needed. A distraction. Something meaningless. A bit of normality. We both knew it would be nothing more than me blowing off steam if I took her down to the lower levels.

"Freya." I wrapped my arm around her waist. She was fucking hot, even though her personality grated on me at times. "Want a drink?"

Her hand slid up my chest, and something inside me wanted to recoil. Fuck. I needed more alcohol for this. No . That wasn't a good idea, not when I needed to stay alert.

"I'd love a drink," she murmured in my ear, but too bad for her, I'd just changed my mind.

"Forget the drink. Want to shotgun with me?" Ditching my beer, I led her over to the sofas, jerking my head to indicate that the people sitting there needed to move. Now. They scrambled to do my bidding, and I took a seat in the centre of the sofa across from Tristan, who was already getting everything set up. Fuck, yeah. I loved it when we were on the same wavelength.

A thought was pushing at the back of my mind, but I forced myself to focus on what was happening right now. My mask was going to stay in place. I was going to have a good fucking night, and I wasn't going to allow myself to think about the girl who had the power to hurt me more than anyone else.

"Roman, can I have a quick word?"

I glanced up at the new voice, my eyes widening as I took in the sight of head girl Penelope leaning over the back of the sofa. She was biting down on her lip, her straight blonde hair a curtain hiding her expression, but I could hear the concern in her voice.

"Be back in a minute," I said to Freya, dislodging her from my thigh and climbing to my feet.Why the fuck was the head girl singling me out here of all places?

"Somewhere private," Penelope said when I reached her. Okay, that meant taking Hatherley Hall's incorruptible golden girl down to the lower levels of the crypts because the only private room on this level was Knox's bedroom, and the only person allowed in there aside from him was his girlfriend.

"You sure you wanna go down to the lower levels? People might talk."

"Oh. Yes." Her mouth twisted. "I'd rather not. Perhaps we could go upstairs into the cellars? Or even a private corner down here? I just want to make sure we aren't overheard."

I glanced around us. No one was paying us any attention that I could see. No one except for Freya, who was staring daggers at her friend. I smiled to myself. As if she had anything to be jealous about. Penelope was the last person I'd ever do anything with, and she'd never sully her squeaky-clean head girl reputation with me, either. She wasn't a deviant like our head boy was, currently sitting with two girls with their hands all over his body, smirking as he rolled a joint.

"Yeah, we can go here. No one's listening." I led her through the archway to the far corner of the crypt, where we were mostly in the shadows, out of earshot of the other students. "What's up?"

"It's about Quinn."

Of fucking course it was.

"No offence, but I don't want to talk about her."

"Sorry. I just…she seemed upset earlier, and she mentioned she'd seen you. I'm worried about her." Penelope turned pleading blue eyes on me, and to my complete fucking horror, they filled with tears. I froze. What the fuck were you supposed to do with crying girls? Quinn had been different. This, I was not equipped to deal with.

"Uh…"

"Sorry," she sniffed, leaning into me, and oh, fuck, she wanted me to hug her, didn't she? Where was Tristan when I needed him? He was good with this kind of shit. I gingerly wrapped my arms around her, and she collapsed against me with a shaky exhale. Her arms came around me in turn, and she buried her face in my shoulder.

Fucking hell. Even though I was just providing her comfort or whatever, it still felt wrong. Quinn had really fucked with my head, and I didn't like it.

Fucking finally, Penelope raised her head, and I was relieved that her eyes were now dry. "Sorry," she said again. "I suppose I wanted to say that I think you should stay away from her. I…you're a friend, Roman, but she's having a hard time, and I?—"

"I get it." Releasing her, I stepped back, dislodging her grip on me.

She blinked and then gave a small laugh. "Sorry. Again. I don't usually make a habit of crying all over people."

"Yeah, bit awkward," I agreed with a cough. I fucking hoped it didn't happen again. With her or with anyone. "Listen, you don't need to worry about me going near her. I'm not planning on it. I have no interest in making her life harder. In fact, I'd prefer to avoid her completely, but that's not gonna happen with us both being in the same location twenty-four seven. But you have my word, I won't go near her if I can help it."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled. "Okay. Good. I debated whether to say anything, and I hope you don't think I'm interfering. I was just worried about her."

"Don't worry about it. You're just being a friend." Tristan caught my eye over Penelope's shoulder, waving a joint in the air at me. "Are we done here? Because there's a joint with my name on it over there."

Distracted by the prospect of weed, I didn't wait for a reply. The conversation was over. Penelope had done her job, and now she could go running to Quinn, and as for me…

Back in my original place, I stretched out on the sofa, tugging Freya onto my thighs again. It still felt fucking wrong—everything did—but I was going to do everything I could to get back to normal.

"What did Pen want? I saw you hugging her." Freya pouted, and I winced internally. I liked her so much better when she didn't speak.

"Nothing important," I said dismissively, sliding my hand onto her bare thigh. She immediately shut up. Perfect. Now, all I needed was a nice buzz from the weed, and then maybe things would feel right again. "Pass me the joint, will you?"