The Plug's Daughter

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The Plug's Daughter
Houston,Texas

Chapter 12 – Alazhá's POV

I knew Romani was trouble the first time I laid eyes on him. The way he carried himself, that confidence? It was reckless but magnetic. And now, here I was, riding shotgun in his car, trying not to let the smell of kush, cologne, and whatever spell he had me under cloud my better judgment.

"Why you always gotta be so extra?" I asked, half-laughing as I rolled the window down a little more.

"Extra? Nah, I'm just thorough," he said, his voice smooth, low, like he knew exactly how it affected me. "I ain't the one creeping out my own house, though."

I shot him a look, but he just smirked, that stupid dimple in his cheek making it impossible for me to stay mad. "Whatever. If my dad catches me, I'm blaming you."

Romani glanced at me, the red glow of the blunt lighting up his face for a second before he passed it over. "Your pops don't scare me."

"He should," I said, taking a small pull, letting the smoke sit in my chest for a second before exhaling out the window. "You don't know him like that. He doesn't play when it comes to me."

"And I don't play when it comes to what I want," he said simply, like it was a fact.

I felt my stomach flip, and I hated it. He always knew how to say the right thing at the wrong time, making me feel things I swore I wouldn't.

I changed the subject. "So, where we going now? You got me out here risking my life, Romani. This better be worth it."

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat as he turned down a quiet street. "Relax. We just riding for now. Unless you got somewhere in mind?"

I shook my head, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. The night air was crisp, and the city felt quieter than usual, like the whole world had decided to take a break.

After a while, we ended up parked at some random lot overlooking the city. The lights spread out in front of us like stars on the ground, and for a second, it felt like we were the only two people alive.

"This your spot?" I asked, leaning forward to get a better view.

"Something like that," he said, watching me instead of the skyline.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept looking out at the city. I wasn't about to let him know how fast my heart was beating.

"You always got people sneaking out for you?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Only you," he said, his voice softer now, more serious.

I turned to look at him, my walls slipping just a little. "Why me?"

He leaned closer, resting his arm on the steering wheel, his gaze locked on mine. "Because you don't take my bullshit. You keep me on my toes. And because I see something in you, Alazhá—something real."

For a second, I didn't know what to say. The weight of his words hung in the air between us, heavy and undeniable.

"I don't know if I'm ready for all that," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll wait," he said, no hesitation in his voice. "I ain't going nowhere."

The ride back was quieter, the kind of silence that wasn't uncomfortable but filled with everything unsaid. By the time we pulled up to my house, my chest felt tight, like I was carrying something too big to hold.

"You good?" he asked as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

"Yeah," I said, opening the door but pausing before stepping out. "Thanks for tonight, Romani."

He nodded, his gaze steady. "You don't gotta thank me. Just don't keep me waiting too long."

I didn't answer, just gave him a small smile before sneaking back inside. As I climbed back into bed, I couldn't stop thinking about him—his words, his presence, the way he made everything feel bigger, more real.

Trouble. That's what he was. And yet, I couldn't help but want more.