The school week had finally ended, and Tara was grateful for the break. As she and Kara walked home hand in hand, a gesture reminiscent of their childhood, Tara couldn't help but reflect on how complex life had become. Though they were no longer kids, moments like this reminded her of a simpler time, when worries like Roman and his obnoxious watch or Kara's budding feelings for Lucas didn't exist.
While Kara's thoughts were occupied with Lucas—his unexpected shyness and the way he seemed so different from his confident, commanding classroom personality Tara's mind was weighed down by Roman. She hated the lingering tension between them, the forced interactions, and his infuriating smirks. If only she could pay him back and never speak to him again.
As they reached home, Kara broke the silence, her voice light. "It's the weekend Tomorrow! A whole weekend to ourselves. Can you imagine? I'm so tired."
Tara chuckled softly, masking her deeper exhaustion. "You and me both."
But what she didn't say was how tired she truly felt—not just physically but emotionally. Roman's constant presence gnawed at her patience, and she didn't want to burden Kara with her frustrations.
The next morning, the twins decided to spend their free day in their own ways. Tara headed to the gym, desperate to let off some steam, while Kara, not much for physical activity, made her way to the library to dive into the newest comic releases.
The gym was a welcome escape for Tara. It had been over a month since she last stepped in, and the improvements were immediately noticeable—new equipment, better lighting, and a fresh coat of paint. After a solid thirty minutes of working out, she paused to catch her breath, her muscles already aching.
Thirsty, she headed to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. But just as she reached for it, a familiar figure caught her eye.
Oh, for heaven's sake. Of course, it had to be him. Roman.
Roman turned at the sound of her approach. His expression was unreadable, but Tara could sense the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. He didn't smile—he never did—but there was something about the way he looked at her that made her want to roll her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone surprisingly calm despite the exhaustion seeping through her. Her black workout attire clung to her, strands of her dark hair plastered against her forehead with sweat.
Roman's gaze lingered for a moment longer than it should have. The sweat glistening on her skin made her emerald eyes stand out even more, and the way her fitted jumpsuit highlighted her figure stirred something in him that he immediately tried to push away. She looked... different. Not the composed, no-nonsense Tara he was used to, but something softer, more natural—and it caught him off guard.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he cleared his throat. "Same thing as you, obviously. Working out."
Tara scoffed, taking a long sip of her water, entirely unaware of the way Roman's gaze flickered to her lips and then away again. "Well, don't let me interrupt your grand routine," she said, brushing past him and returning to her workout station.
Roman stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, his mind racing. What was wrong with him? He'd seen Tara countless times, but this... this was different. She was different.
And yet, he couldn't quite figure out why he cared so much.
POV: Tara
I understand that this world is a small place—too small, even. But why does it have to be this small? Why, out of all the people I could possibly run into, does it have to be him? And here, of all places. Seriously, can't I have one peaceful holiday to myself without some cosmic joke being played at my expense?
The moment I saw him, I felt the air freeze around me, the uneasy feeling creeping in like an unwanted shadow. Don't get me wrong—I don't hate him. It's just that there's something about him that makes me uncomfortable in ways I can't fully explain. His first impression didn't help either. It was sharp, cold, almost predatory, like he was studying every detail of me, deciding if I was worth his attention.
Now? Now it feels different. That coldness in his gaze has softened, like he's trying to break through whatever barrier I've put up. But it doesn't matter. It can't matter. I won't let it. Getting close to me isn't going to happen—not now, not ever.