On Friday night, I stand at my bedroom mirror and swipe mascara on. Perfume floats in the air, my hair is down in loose waves and I'm wearing a satin dress that comes to my calves.

It's been almost a week since I spent the night in the clear dome on Roman's ranch. The stars had appeared, we'd laid next to each other and admired the glittering night sky.

Roman was a perfect gentleman of course, we slept next to each other but he kept to his side and I kept to mine. It was a beautiful evening and now, as I get ready for our first date, I feel an excitement building, the anticipation for the unknown is thrilling.

It's been nice at home too, nicer than I expected it to be. Over the week I've spent time with Mills after classes, mom and I have a wine and watch soaps in the living room, dad's brought a herbal tea to my bedroom every morning before he goes to work.

He's at a game tonight, so he couldn't be here to see me off, which he expressed great disappointment in.

He'd been so taken with Roman's traditional approach to dates that he thought it only fair if he were here to do the protective father bit.

So I'm not surprised to see Lucas appear at my doorway while I use a Q tip to get a smudge of mascara off the top of my lid. Figures dad would send Luc in his place.

"What, Luc?" I ask, still looking in the mirror instead of at my brother who I can see has his arms crossed over his chest while he leans on the door frame.

"Mom said you're going on a date."

I'm stumped to hear that he got this information from mom and not dad. I'd decided not to tell him or Milly about tonight, I didn't want them to have the burden of that knowledge when they talk to Flynn so often.

"So?" I say.

"So, what the fuck?" He barks and I look over to find his frustrated glare on me. "You're going on a date with someone else? What about Flynn?"

"What about him?" I bite, not appreciating the sting I feel when I think about the first love of my life. "We aren't together, Luc. I can do what I want."

He walks further into the room, his tall height and angry demeanour making the space feel smaller. "You broke up with Flynn because you wanted to be alone and figure shit out. . . was that even true? I thought you love him?"

"I do love him," I whirl around and shout at my brother. "I'll always love him, Luc. And I meant what I said, I needed time. I needed a clean break and a fresh start. I didn't go looking for a date, but I don't want to pass this up either. Roman is. . . he's sweet. I like him."

"This is why I didn't like the idea of you two dating. Now I have to shoulder my best friend getting over my sister. We used to be a unit. What the fuck are we supposed to do at Christmas time now?"

"First of all," I get in his space, close to smacking him. "You were all for it. You put your signed, sealed, stamp of approval on our relationship. So shut up. Second, he will always be important to me, we can be friends. I don't expect you to take sides. Third, you're dating my best friend!"

"Yeah and I'm not going to break her heart," he says and it hurts more than if he'd slapped me in the face.

Lucas realises what he's said because he steps back, a flinch in his brow but he doesn't take his words back.

"I told him I don't want kids," I murmur, heart racing and thoughts muddled. "I told him that, because I meant it. But I've been wondering, if I just don't want to raise kids the same way we were raised." 

Lucas doesn't respond and I don't look at him to find out what he's thinking because admitting all of this out loud is hard enough. 

"Not that mom and dad were bad parents, they're the best parent's I could have asked for," I say, feeling breathless. "And I would never say this to them, because I don't want them to burden that guilt, but I just don't want that sort of spotlight or pressure on any kids I may have. And before, I didn't think I'd ever have the option to live another way. It never occurred to me that I could raise children in a private, reserved life."

"So you just met this dude," Lucas says, not in a tone that's cruel or sarcastic, but genuinely curious. "And you're planning on having his kids?"

"You're an asshole."

He threw his arms up in question. 

"No," I sigh. "I'm just saying, there's more for me out there. More options than I'd thought of. The point is, I don't want to raise kids in LA or New York, I don't want the press or  the public watching, I don't want my children growing up being chewed apart on social media. Flynn wants children and he will have a future in the public, Luc."

My brother nodded in somber agreement. "He's going pro. For sure. His stats are out of this world, scouts are watching him. He'll be drafted as soon as he's eligible."

"See," I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the quiver in my chin. "I can't ask him to choose between his career and me. I don't want his future but I would never ask him to leave it behind. Calling it quits now, saves us a world of pain in the future."

"You deserve to be happy," he palms his jaw and exhales. "I'm an asshole. It's just sucked watching the aftermath of the break up. You know why?"

My stomach painfully twists when I think Lucas is going to tell me that Flynn is miserable.

"It sucks because you're both handling it a lot better than I am."

That surprises me. "He's doing. . . well? He's happy?"

Lucas runs a palm over his tattooed shoulder. "I wouldn't say he's happy. But he's managing. He's going to the beach with friends. He started a cooking class, fucking weirdo. He hits the club. He's not holed up at home crying into his pillow."

Flynn used to be my everything, we lived together, we had a future planned, we revolved around each other and I would've expected to hurt at the thought of him going out and living his life without me. But instead I smile, relived to know that he's healing.

The doorbell blares from downstairs.

"He's here," I straighten up, heart pounding, a smile stretching across my face.

Downstairs I can hear the faint sound of voices talking, mom must have let Roman in. Assessing my outfit in the mirror once more, I decide the nervous pounding in my chest isn't worth fighting. This is new and sort of frightening but it feels right.

"What will it take to convince you to stay up here until we're gone?" I ask Lucas, moving towards the door while I watch his cunning grin grow.

"Not a damn thing."

Grunting with frustration, I move past him and beeline for the staircase, Lucas trailing close behind me. As soon as Roman comes into view, standing at the front door in a fitted dark green t-shirt and jeans, Lucas whistles.

"Well damn," he shouts. "I get it now. I would've accepted the date too."

"Shut up," I elbow him in the gut when we step off the staircase, he grunts and lets out a winded laugh.

"Hi," I say to Roman, his gaze sweeps me over and he smiles.

"You are beautiful," he slips his hands into his pockets, his glance quickly moving between mom and Lucas as he reddens.

"Well thanks," Luc responds. "You're not too bad either sugar."

Roman chuckles and I catch the question in his gaze while I resist the urge to slap Lucas in the stomach. Mom grabs my unhinged brother by the arm and winks at me.

"It was lovely to meet you, Roman," she tells him. "Have fun tonight."

"Hang on," Lucas protests while mom pulls him toward the living room. "I haven't threatened his life or slipped a tracking device into his pocket."

Mom squeezes his arm tighter, her fingernails digging into his flesh.

Lucas winces but that doesn't stop him from shouting obscenities as she drags him away. "If you're ever interested in a throuple, I have a beautiful ginger girlfriend."

"Whom he would never share," I tell Roman, exasperated at Lucas and his never ending pursuit to make everyone uncomfortable. "He's not. . . normal."

"Who is?" Roman laughs and opens the front door for me. "Good to go?"

"Mhmm."

Roman is the perfect gentleman. He opens the car door for me, the gentle dusk breeze catching the strands of my hair before I'm inside the car with the door closed.

While Roman drives us across town, he chats to me about his day on the ranch. He asks me a lot about myself too but I could listen to him talk all night, hence I never stop firing questions at him.

Some time later, we arrive at a carnival. The lights from the rides are blinking, casting a glow on the darkening sky and the noise echoes through the vast space. Whimsical music, bells dinging, rides clanking.

Roman opens the car door for me and I grin at him. "A carnival?"

"I know it's not a five star restaurant for dinner but I thought this might be a good first date."

"It's a perfect first date," I say.

The carnival is enormous, there are rows of rides, fortune tellers, face painting, food stalls, clowns on stilts, bumper carts. In the grass beneath our feet are strewn popsicle sticks, ticket stubs and straws.

"Requests?" Roman asks. "Food first? Rides? Games?"

"Whatever we do, it has to be rides before food."

"True. Well, the bumper cars are just over there," he points toward the little cars which are crashing and banging about. "What better way to start a date than ramming into each other?"

"You have to be doing it on purpose at this point," I grin looking up at the realization in his grimace.

"Nope but I heard it," he sighs, tousling his hair. "The cars, ramming the cars into each other. Or we can do something else."

"Nope," I take his hand and my chest flutters when his grip immediately tightens around mine, like he's ecstatic to have it there. "I'm down on bumper cars. I love a bit of controlled road rage."

Roman laughs and we hop in line, our hands still connected. During our turn, we laugh, we get competitive, we shout with triumph when one of us hits another car particularly hard. The fun doesn't stop at bumper cars. The lines are long but worth it while we wait to get on the Carasoul. I sit on a unicorn and he slips onto the lion next to me. 

Roman proves his muscles to be as strong as they look in the hammer hitting contest. The little bell at the top dings and there's a digital chirp of a winners trumpet. His score was high enough that he won a little stuffed octopus that folds inside and out and changes from mad to sad. He gives it straight to me. 

We have a turn at  a few more of the classic carnival games, tossing little sacks into clown mouths, shooting moving targets with digital guns, ring toss. There's a lot to do. 

We get on the ferris wheel after we've had a slice of apple pie and after all of the rushing around, it's nice to sit down and relax. At the top, we get a view of the entire carnival. It's enormous. We haven't seen half of what's to offer. 

"You warm enough?" Roman asks, looking at my bare arms. 

"Yeah," I say and look at his hands holding onto the bar across our laps, his fists are clenched tight, twisting, like he's nervous. 

Before I can give myself the chance to be nervous, I take his hand, and lace our fingers together. He lets out a nervous laugh. 

"I wanted to do that," he tells me, rubbing his thumb across the top of my hand. "You make me nervous."

I grin, appreciating his honesty.

"Not super attractive," he says. "A dude who can't even make the first move."

"I think you're very attractive," I tell him, not letting our eye contact break. The ferris wheel passes the starting point and goes up for it's second time around. "But for future reference, don't be afraid to take my hand. I like it."

"I figured it would be all good, but I don't want to cross a line or make you uncomfortable," he swallows and twists so his body faces mine. "You know, after what you've been through, I don't want to do something that. . . upsets you. I'm trying to read the room, figure it out. Maybe it's best if I just, ask. Communication, right?"

It seemed as if he didn't even realise that he was asking if I had triggers, and what they were. My heart sped up because him asking that, meant more to me than I could explain. 

"As far as touch and my body goes," I tell him, smiling at how intently he listens. "I came out of the assault quite unscathed. It's different for a lot of people but I'm okay with touch."

It was time to be honest about the eating disorder because I knew the truth would be safe with him. He proved it every time we were together. 

"Roman, I have or had, or I'm recovering from an eating disorder. I'm not sure how to word it. I'm doing well right now  but it's a process. After the assault and the trauma of being told that I would never be good enough for modelling, I developed a really unhealthy relationship with food. I spent some time in rehab, almost relapsed once or twice. It's hard, but I'm in a good place at the moment."

His gaze moved over my face, never lower and admiration filled his stare. "You're incredible. You've over come so much."

"It doesn't bother you? I'm not claiming that this is serious for you or that we'll be together forever or whatever," I stammered. "But I can't promise that I'll never relapse, or that it won't affect me in the future. I guess it's important for you to know that now."

He smiled, his brows pinched in thought. "My dad is paralyzed, my sister has no legs, I only met your brother for five minutes but he's clearly a handful."

We both laughed. 

Roman leaned in closer, his hand tightening around mine. "People come with differences, or challenges but that doesn't mean they're not absolutely worth it."

My lips part with an inhale that winds me. 

"You're worth it," he mumbles and I'm so glad he reads the room this time because he leans in and his lips find mine. 

Our kiss is slow and sweet, his hand moves up my nape, into the strands of my hair and he tilts my head, deepening the kiss and pushing our tongues together while still going slow and gentle. 

It feels as if we're in slow motion, I get to feel it all. The strokes of his thumb on my nape, the tips of his fingers pressing into the base  of my neck, the light laps of his tongue and the softness of his lips.

When we part, he rests his forehead on mine, breathing heavily. "Is it crazy that I--" he starts, before shaking his head. "Never mind."

"What?" I ask, floating somewhere high above all of this, unable to come back down to earth. 

"I just--" he kisses my forehead. "I can't. I'll sound insane."

"Roman," I lightly laugh, pulling back and caressing his stubbled jaw. "Just tell me."

He takes my hand. never breaking eye contact as he kisses my palm. "I'll let you know, sometime in the future. . . or whatever."