Lowkey

Chapter 53

Fucking heights.

"Scared?" He questioned with a risen eyebrow. He exhaled the smoke from his mouth as he spoke.

"No," I muttered as I cast another downward gaze. The bustling streets below us were vivid enough to conjure up images of my death.

His arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me to his side while his entire arm gave all of the security I needed.

Because his large arm was probably the same size as my entire body.

"You won't fall, baby," He whispered into my ear, kissing my neck and sliding his chin to rest on top of my head.

"I've got you,"

Smiling, I snuggled into his chest, embracing his warmth. Reassuringly, I felt safe even if I was near the midst of death.

Because that's what he brought with him. Security and warmth—two things of the many he provided me with, and two of which I have gotten addicted to.

"Want to go home?" He asked quietly. Nodding, I sighed and smiled into his chest.

"Yes please,"

✰

Sitting on top of the counter, I gracefully watched my talented boyfriend fry a bunch of food in a pan.

Cooking was amongst one of the many 'hidden' talents he had—to which I had yet to judge.

I blared my music from my phone—a good range of Arctic Monkeys playing and Chase Atlantic.

"Roman?" I called as I scrolled through my playlist, searching for a certain song.

"Hm?" He replied and I felt his presence near me now. I grin as I look up from my phone. "Did you know there's a song about me?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at my phone, then back to my eyes—while I simply smiled innocently as I began playing the music.

Roman gave me a funny look before getting out a new cutting board and starting to chop some vegetables. I placed the phone back on the counter with the music blasting from it.

"Arabella's got some interstellar-gator skin boots,"

Roman glanced up from the board as I sipped my red wine, wiggling my eyebrows at the mention of my name.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully, going back to cutting. "It's okay Roman, I'm sure you will have a song about you one day," I cooed, patting his back.

He walked away and returned his gaze to the sizzling fry pan, rolling his eyes once more. I giggled at his attitude and continued to vibe to the song.

It was roughly around midnight and we were eating dinner. But that was partly my fault. I ended up passing out on the couch when we returned home, exhausted from the day.

Roman was preoccupied with business, which he handled in his little home office—and from then on I basically woke up at eleven, showered and then begged Roman to cook for me.

Fortunately, the convincing didn't take much.

So now we were here, even though we had a big-ish day tomorrow, I simply convinced myself I would be fine.