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"Be careful with Roman."
"What's that supposed to mean?" You turn around to face Peter, his eyes staring dead into yours, one eyebrow cocked. As much as you like Peter, every once in awhile his pretentious attitude and vague warnings get obnoxious. Being his only close friend, you get a lot of them. Especially now that you're dating Roman, although you use the word "dating" loosely. You're on break between classes and have about ten minutes to spare, meaning you'd made a beeline to your locker to grab your earbuds when Peter caught you.
"He's not what you think he is. You can't trust him. Even if he seems harmless now," Peter casts his eyes to the ceiling, biting the edge of his lip. You wait for him to continue. He needs to pause to add drama to his warning. "He'll hurt you. Distance yourself from him now or you'll regret it later."
"Sure, Peter. Let me just ghost the boy who can't go three hours without texting me. I'm sure that'll end well," You turn and start to walk slowly down the hallway, inviting Peter to join you with a flick of your finger. You, Peter, and Roman all share your English class, so you might as well walk together. You'd last seen Roman an hour ago taking a nap in his car, so you're assuming you won't see him in class. "What do you know about him that I don't? We've known him the same amount of time."
"Just trust me on this. He'll change and you won't and in his eyes, it'll be your fault," Peter breaks into a fast walk as the school bell rings but doesn't miss the eye roll you put minimal effort into hiding. "Look, if you're going to be stubborn and ignore me I can't stop you. Maybe you'll listen if you see it yourself. It's in his eyes. Just be careful."
You follow him into class and sit down at a desk next to him. As the class starts, you turn and give him a shit eating smile. "Okay Pete. Thanks for your concern, but I think Roman and I will be alright."
He glares at you, but you can see a glint of amusement in his blue eyes. You're the only one who gets away with calling him Pete.
A few weeks later.
The Godfrey Tower is surprisingly nice when the lower level is turned into a dining hall. Chandeliers glistening like melting ice hang from the ceiling, casting speckled light around the enormous room. Huge pale blue, purple, and white carpets add a hint of warmth to the cold tile ground, the ornate patterns of flowers and intricately knotted threads of different colors appearing to wrap and unwrap themselves in motion beneath your feet. If the room was completely empty, you could call it peaceful, the perfect image of an indoor winter made from glass and thread. But people who hold themselves in too high esteem and expect perfection from those around them fill the room with the chatter of pointless words and the screeches of obviously fake laughs.
