Chapter 18

Ariana's POV

I woke up sore.

Not in a bad way.

The kind of ache that lingered deep in my thighs and hips, in the soft stretch of my muscles when I moved. Like my body remembered every inch of him. Every thrust. Every kiss. Every whispered groan in my ear.

Roman.

His side of the bed was cold. Sheets rumpled. He was gone.

But on his pillow, right beside mine, was a note.

A simple white piece of paper.

"Wear something that covers my marks. Or don’t. Your choice."

My lips parted. Heat curled low in my belly. I touched the fading bruises he left along my collarbone, the ghost of his mouth still burning in my skin.

God.

I wasn’t the same girl I was yesterday.

And I didn’t know how to pretend otherwise.

Getting dressed felt like a task. Everything reminded me of him. The way he tugged my skirt higher. The sound of my moans echoing through his room. How he whispered my name like it was a prayer and a curse all at once.

I slipped into a black turtleneck. Not because of his note, but because… if people saw the look on my face, they’d know. They’d know I’d let him wreck me. Own me.

And I liked it.

Campus was already buzzing when I arrived. Laughter. Phones. Coffee cups. The usual.

Except for me… nothing felt usual anymore.

Everything was brighter. Louder. Or maybe it was just me walking around with his scent still clinging to my skin, like I hadn’t washed him off completely. Because I hadn’t.

“Ariana!”

I turned. Lana.

She jogged over, a bundle of chaotic energy in a denim jacket and mini skirt, her dark hair pulled into two messy buns. “Girl, you okay? You’re moving like you’ve been in a car crash.”

My face flamed. “I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrowed, amused. “You’re glowing. And limping. Should I be worried or jealous?”

I shoved her playfully, but she just grinned wider, looping her arm through mine as we walked toward the lecture hall.

We sat in the back. Lana pulled out her notebook, and I tried to focus, but my mind was a mess. My thighs pressed together instinctively, still sensitive from last night. My neck tingled. My lips felt swollen.

And then… my phone buzzed in my bag.

I didn’t want to look.

I did anyway.

Roman: “Don’t let anyone look at you the way I do.”

I swallowed.

My fingers trembled as I typed.

Me: “No one does.”

I was curled up on my bed, half-listening to a playlist, when a knock sounded at my door.

I froze. My heart took off like it recognized the rhythm of his knock before my brain did.

I opened the door.

Roman stood there.

Hair messy. Hands in his pockets. That look in his eyes hungry and tired and mine.

He didn’t say anything when he stepped into my room.

Just looked at me like he hadn’t seen me in weeks, not hours. Like he was starving and I was the only thing that could fix it.

I didn’t ask what he was doing here.

I just stepped back and let the door close behind him.

His fingers brushed against my arm as he passed, and I swear I stopped breathing. One touch. That’s all it took. He didn’t even kiss me. Didn’t pull me into his chest. He just sat at the edge of my bed, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair like he was trying to hold something in.

Maybe it was me.

Maybe it was everything.

I sat beside him. Our shoulders touched. His body was tense, jaw sharp, eyes heavy.

“I didn’t like not seeing you,” he muttered.

My heart twisted.

“I was gone for one afternoon,” I whispered, trying to keep it light.

“Too long.”

I looked down at my hands. “You didn’t reply my text.”

“I read it.” His voice was low. “Didn’t know what to say without coming back here and taking you again.”

I swallowed.

Heat swirled between my legs.

“Then say nothing,” I murmured. “Just stay.”

And he did.

He didn’t touch me that night.

Not in the way I expected.

He just laid beside me, one arm wrapped around my waist, his face buried in my hair. I could feel the storm in him, the way his chest rose with every breath like he was holding something in.

But I didn’t ask.

I just let him hold me until we both fell asleep.

The next morning, he was gone before I woke up again.

And for some reason, that made my chest ache.

Not in a clingy way. Just… missing him. Missing the version of him that whispered in my ear and touched my skin like I was fragile and fire all at once.

By the time I pulled myself together and got ready for class, my phone buzzed.

Lana:

“Heard anything about the Blacklight Party on Friday? Off-campus. Total chaos. You in?”

I blinked.

Party?

I hadn’t even thought about… that. Going out. Being normal. Social. Flirting. Dancing.

But wasn’t that what I needed?

Something… light?

Something not Roman?

Me:

“Didn’t know there was a party.”

Lana:

“There’s always a party. This one’s legendary. Come on, you need to live a little.”

I hesitated, biting my lip.

I could already hear Roman’s voice in my head.

“Don’t let anyone look at you the way I do.”

Like he’d ever let me show up at a party in a dress and heels without owning me all over again first.

Still…

Maybe I wanted to feel wanted by more than just him. Maybe I wanted to remember who I was before all this.

Or maybe I just wanted to see if he’d care.

I didn’t answer Lana right away.

Instead, I closed my phone and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

Friday.

One night.

What’s the worst that could happen?