Roman’s POV
The bonfire crackled, throwing golden sparks into the air like fireflies on acid.
Ariana laughed next to me soft, real the kind of sound that felt rare lately. Her head was tilted back, her hair messy from the beach, her cheeks still flushed from the game, and that bikini she wore? f*****g lethal. I swear I couldn’t look at her too long without feeling the fire crawl under my skin.
But something felt off.
Not with her.
With the air. With the way Lana watched her.
Too carefully.
Too often.
Like she was guarding something that didn’t belong to her.
I glanced toward the snack table, then leaned down to whisper in Ariana’s ear, "Want anything?"
She shook her head, giggling under her breath, still tipsy from the cheap canned sangria someone smuggled in. “Just don’t take fo
