Roman had always prided himself on his confidence, his ability to command attention, and his effortless charm. Yet, as he stood at the edge of the dimly lit gymnasium, watching the dance floor, an unfamiliar sensation gnawed at him—jealousy.
His eyes were fixed on Tabitha. The girl who had once been the quirky, overlooked mber of their batch now radiated a magnetic allure. Her transformation was undeniable, and Roman found himself drawn to her in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He had always been surrounded by admirers, yet Tabitha’s newfound confidence and beauty unsettled him.
Determined to understand these unsettling feelings, Roman decided to approach her. He navigated through the crowd, his usual swagger slightly diminished by his internal conflict. However, as he neared, he halted abruptly.
There, under the soft glow of the fairy lights, Tabitha was locked in a tender embrace with Reid—the school’s quintessential nerd. Their lips t in a kiss that spoke of genuine affection, a connection that was both surprising and, to Roman, infuriating.
A surge of emotions overwheld him—anger, confusion, and a deep-seated envy he couldn’t shake.
How had Reid, of all people, captured the attention of Tabitha? The scene before him was a stark contrast to the narratives Roman had always believed in.
He was the campus heartthrob—Roman Vaughn. Girls practically lined up for the chance to breathe the sa air as him. He was tall, chiseled, handso, and rich—everything a high school fantasy was made of. Won swooned at his smile, and most fell head over heels the mont he flashed it. Especially girls like Tabitha.
At least, that’s what he thought.
But Tabitha? She never so much as spared him a glance. She didn’t giggle when he walked by. She didn’t fix her hair when he was around. She never tried to sit beside him in class or leave him cute notes in his locker. Nothing. It was as if Roman Vaughn, the Roman Vaughn, didn’t even exist in her world.
Instead, all her attention had been directed—absurdly—to Reid. That nerdy, awkward, socially invisible math whiz who still wore outdated button-downs like it was a fashion statent. And that baffled Roman. It annoyed him more than he liked to admit.
He shouldn’t be paying any attention to Tabitha at all. Not seriously. Not romantically. She wasn’t even his type—at least, that’s what he’d always assud. She was loud. She was brash. She didn’t fit the mold of the usual girls he flirted with. And yes, she was chubby—soft and bold, not the polished petite types he was used to.
But still . . .
Tabitha had snuck under his skin the mont she stood up to him. That day she talked back, threw shade, and walked off without a care—Roman had laughed at first.
But deep down, it sparked sothing.
And then prom night happened.
She walked in like a goddess wrapped in fire—wearing a red, shimring dress that clung to every curve like it had been sewn onto her. Her multicolored hair was gone, replaced by deep, sultry waves of black that frad her face and cascaded down her back. Her makeup was flawless, seductive, but not overdone. She looked like trouble—and Roman had never wanted to get into trouble so badly.
The sight of her knocked the air from his lungs.
He realized—shockingly, embarrassingly—that he liked curvaceous won. He liked the way her body moved, the way her hips swayed with confidence, the way her smile curved like she knew the world was hers for the taking. And most of all, he liked how she didn’t need his attention. She didn’t chase it. She wasn’t interested.
And that drove him crazy.
Gwendolyn was beautiful, no doubt. She challenged him, kept him on his toes, and Roman liked that too. But Tabitha? Tabitha didn’t challenge him. She derailed him. Her charm wasn’t sothing you could fight—it bulldozed its way through and left everything in chaos. She didn’t ask for attention; she commanded it.
And it wasn’t just her confidence—it was what she did to him. She stirred sothing physical, sothing primal. Sothing he didn’t want to acknowledge, but couldn’t deny either. Just looking at her stirred his manhood in ways he wasn’t used to—an instant, undeniable hunger.
He was furious with himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t want to want her. And yet . . . there he was, unable to look away as she laughed and danced with Reid. Not with him.
That nerd.
Roman clenched his fists. Sothing twisted in his gut. Jealousy? Frustration? Desire? He didn’t know. All he knew was that whatever this was—it was happening. And it was happening fast.
In his turmoil, Roman’s gaze shifted, landing on Gwendolyn. She stood alone, a drink in hand, her posture slightly unsteady. Her eyes were glazed, and it was evident she’d had more than her share of the spiked punch.
An impulsive idea took root. If Tabitha could find solace in soone unexpected, why couldn’t he? Perhaps Gwendolyn could serve as a distraction, a ans to reaffirm his desirability and drown out the unsettling emotions churning within him.
Approaching her, Roman donned his most charming smile. "Hey, Gwendolyn," he began, his voice smooth. "You look like you could use so fresh air."
She blinked up at him, a slow pout spreading across her lips. "Roman! What are you doing? You drag in here and then leave ," she slurred slightly.
"Sorry about that. Let’s go sowhere that we could be alone. I promise I won’t leave you anymore." He offered his arm, which she took with a giggle. Leading her out of the gymnasium, they stepped into the cool night air. The silence between them was filled with the distant hum of music and laughter from inside.
Roman suggested a walk, and Gwendolyn nodded enthusiastically. They wandered through the school’s garden, the path illuminated by sporadic lampposts casting elongated shadows.
As they walked, Gwendolyn leaned into him, her steps unsteady. "You know," she began, her voice dreamy, "I’ve always thought you were . . . a brute."
Roman chuckled, though it lacked genuine amusent. "Is that so? What about now?"
"You’re still a brute, but . . . I think that . . . I’m beginning to like you . . ."
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