Repellent

3- Ground Rules and Shocking Reflections

Roman. He spoke! The shock of it still has me reeling. All I want to do is connect with him more. He is a mystery and that urge to glance at him again is strong.

Should I ask him if it is okay? Or will he be offended? I don't want him to think he is a freak for me to gawk at.

But God, I want to.

Making up my mind, I blurt out, "Roman? Can I look at you?"

When he doesn't answer, I shift uncomfortably. "Sorry, I won't. I mean...I understand if you don't want me to."

I curl my legs up to my chest and hum quietly. My eyes stay focused on the floor in front of me: Metal and cold.

"You want to look at me?" he says finally. Disbelief is etched in his words and there is a vulnerability there that I am certain I'm not imagining.

"Yes, if that's okay. I don't know why. I just would like to see who I'm talking to, I guess."

"You can try."

Relief and anticipation wash over me. "Okay," I say softly.

With a settling breath, I start to turn my head. The convulsions take over, my heart speeds up, and my throat closes. Shaking, I continue until I find him. His black eyes meet mine. The effect is not as overwhelming as before. I can breathe. I nod to myself. I can breathe.

His face expresses a feeling I can't recognize. Surprise? Incredulity?

My heart races, but no longer from the aversion. There is something formidable about him. His face is almost...handsome? He has dark stubble around his upper lip and jawline. His olive skin shows time in the sun and his dark hair curls in ringlets around his face. There are bruises and blood, but it makes him look tougher, more so than he already is.

I grin at him. "Hi," I utter.

My smile falters as emotions flicker across his face. He turns from me and his chest rises in and out as if he is taking in deep breaths. Like I'm the one repelling him.

"Are you okay?" I ask as I tilt my head from him.

"Don't," he rasps.

"Don't what?"

"Don't pity me."

"I wasn't," I say defensively.

"I don't want it or need it," he spits in anger.

"What makes you think I'm pitying you?" My voice rises and matches his tone.

His accusation confuses me, and then it hits me that not many people have looked at him the way that I just did. Tears prick my eyes and a sinking feeling lands in my chest.

Now, I guess I do feel a little bad for him.

Roman's anger reminds me of Magna and his grumpy tirades. Best to distract the beast with a compliment.

A smile crosses my lips and I say, "You have a nice face."

"What?" he scoffs with disbelief.

"Your face, it's...nice." My cheeks are about to set fire to the room. I'm sure of it. Staring up at the ceiling, the orange light blinks at me.

He laughs. Not a belly laugh or anything. It is short-lived and under his breath, but it was there, I heard it.

Satisfied with my ability to extract such a reaction from him, I ready myself to look at him again. As I take in a breath, loud footsteps approach. The asshole, Ethan. Disappointment washes over me.

It is in my best interest to play nice with him. If I befriend him, I can maybe convince him to let me go. He makes me so angry, though, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep my temper in check.