[11] Roman

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Roman's POV.

I lean back in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest, grinning as Aleithea's bright head of hair bobs away. I will admit straight out that she is my favorite for a number of reasons, I think with a silent chuckle as my eyes drift towards the chicks at the next table over. It was a blast to tease her emotionally. She only made that game more fun by resisting, rather than completely falling for it like most. It used to thrill me that so many girls would throw themselves at me. But after a while of that, I grew tired of the shallowness of it all. As little as I will admit it, I'm more of a romantic than that. Unfortunately, the reputation I've gathered for myself drives away the kind of girls I'm interested in, and causes the exact opposite to flock to me in swarms. Yeah, I've dug a ditch for myself without realizing it, but I've had more than my fair share of being used to really care. It's my own fault anyway.

 Now Aleithea... She has a soul. And so much more. She won't know how much I admire her drive and individualism. Her disregard for the petty things like labels, that a sickeningly large amount of people at this godforsaken school obsess over. And that's why the dye-job caught me by surprise. Her desire to "fit in" and change what I like most about her was startling.

I overreacted when she called me emo, I won’t lie. I wasn’t expecting it from her, the whole school had already pinned that on me when someone started a rumor about me cutting a few years ago when I came back from rehab after… the camp fire incident. Yeah, I went through junior high as a very sullen kid, but with good reason. I still come to school sporting the occasional “mark of love” from my dad. Sorry I don’t whine and tell everyone that I get smacked around. My business is my business, this school’s just full of drama-obsessed idiots. Allie didn’t mean any harm. She doesn’t know anything beyond the rumors.

"She's cool," Sage interrupts my thoughts with a nudge, having put his iPod away. I grunt in reply, the corner of my mouth tugged up in a smile as I lean against the table.

"She's alright," I confirm with a grin, my chin in my hand. A familiar, warm feeling spreads in my chest, its presence like an old, old friend.

"How are you gonna work on that project from Alpine Mine? You might have to come home every other weekend or something," he suggests. I shrug.

"I wouldn't want to do that. But I have something else in mind."

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