Chapter 9
Delulu Roman
Roman
After dinner, I turned the contents of my drawers upside down, frantically searching for this cufflink. I couldn't believe I misplaced it! My sister gifted it to me for my twenty-fifth birthday, and I was always so careful with this gift.
I meticulously inspected every single drawer and shelf in my closet—nothing. I was emotionally attached to this gift—I’d sift through the whole apartment if I had to.
The cufflinks were actually very silly. It was two cupcakes, one with white frosting and the other with pink. It was the most unserious piece of anything I owned, but I cherished this gift with my life.
My sister loved to bake, and I loved to eat whatever new creations she came up with, but my favorite were her cupcakes.
She always poked fun at me and said that I was a brutal man but enjoyed dainty girly desserts, so for my birthday, she got the cufflinks custom-made with my initials.
I loved them, just the way I loved her baking and just the way I loved her.
I checked every single shirt that came back from the dry cleaners and all the clothes that my cleaner neatly folded for me that morning.
Nothing. In the laundry room, I got on my hands and knees and looked around the floor; maybe one cufflink got stuck in a sleeve and fell out. Nothing. Damn it, what the fuck.
In a last-ditch effort, for some reason I opened the dryer, thinking that maybe it somehow got tangled up with all my other clothes that were washed for me that day.
I ran my hand on the bottom of the drum, but instead of a cufflink, I pulled out a lacy red thong and immediately forgot what I was doing in the laundry room.
I recognized it right away; I bought this for Isla when she moved in a week ago, and she seemed to have forgotten to take it out of the dryer when she did her laundry.
It was soft and silky, it weighed nothing, and I held it up to see that it fucking barely covered anything.
Ugh, fuck, in one second, images of her wearing it overpowered my brain.
I stared at the material, but my mind was seeing myself pulling it off her.
Dear Jesus, I needed to get a fucking grip. Hypnotized, I imagined hooking my finger on the incredibly flimsy waistband and slowly tugging it down, letting it slide on her smooth skin. There was no way to stop my mind from descending into dirty thoughts.
What should I do with it?
What a ridiculous question crossed my mind! Obviously, I had to give it back to her—I wasn’t going to keep it like a fucking psycho. But maybe I could? She would eventually figure out one of her thongs was missing, but for now—
For now, what?! Snap the fuck out of it. Holy shit, this woman had driven me completely crazy! I was considering keeping her lingerie, like an absolute lunatic!
Before my mind wandered into uncharted territory, I forced my legs to move and almost jogged to her room before I stuffed the thong in my pocket and walked away. I knocked lightly, impatiently waiting for her to answer.
"Come in." A gentle voice rang out from behind the door and flooded my entire body with dopamine.
Hesitantly, I swung the door open and saw the angel sitting on her bed, painting her toenails. Her leg was stretched out, and she had to lean over to reach her toes, probably because she couldn't keep her knees bent for long.
"Hi Roman! I didn't realize you were home already!" Her smile was radiant, and her greeting was so joyous. God, she was always so polite and genuine, and it made me just want to melt into a puddle in front of her.
I stood for a second longer and devoured her with my eyes.
Isla had her hair in a high ponytail and was wearing a white t-shirt and short white shorts.
She looked fucking stunning no matter what she was wearing or not wearing, and after every interaction, I wondered if I spent more time than was acceptable just staring at her.
“I found something that belongs to you. In the dryer." Jesus, could have at least greeted her back. She closed the nail polish and looked up at me expectantly.
"Oh?" She encouraged me once she climbed off the bed and half limped a step closer. Right. The thong. I had to give it back. I took my hand out of my pocket and stretched out my arm toward her, the red material feeling so good in my hand.
A few seconds of confusion followed, but then it dawned on her what it was. Her face flushed red, matching the color of the thong that rested so perfectly in my palm.
"Oh.” She lowered her voice. "I'm sorry. Thank you." Her eyes averting mine like the plague, she picked up the thong and gently folded it. “I did laundry this afternoon, so...I must have missed this one." Her hands behind her back now, she bit her lip, visibly fighting with her smile.
"It's okay." I shrugged and made it sound simple even though it was anything but simple in my mind. "I picked it out. I like this one." Yes, I did. I would have also really liked to take it off her—stop. Stop. Don’t think that.
Isla nodded and broke out into a devious smile. "Uh huh. It's a nice one." She finally looked up at me, and oh my God, her eyes pierced mine like a thousand knives. Fuck. Me.
What the fuck was I feeling for this girl?
Why the hell was I feeling anything? I didn't feel.
Isla was like opium, drugging me with every second of her presence and sending me into a euphoric and relaxed state.
Slowly but surely, I had the urge to feel that high again, and the only way I could do that would be in her presence.
She swayed her body side to side in discomfort as we just stood in front of each other like awkward teenagers. This was so silly. I was thirty-five, an adult man, and here I was feeling sixteen years old, unable to take a deep breath as I stood in front of someone I had a crush on.
"Alright, I'll see you later.” I blurted out and turned away within an instant, trying to create as much distance between us as possible.
After an hour of searching the entire apartment, I didn't find the damn thing and was feeling annoyed, angry, and deeply disappointed that I lost it. Amazing. No cufflink, and now Isla's red thong stood in front of my eyes every time I blinked.
Once the city was enveloped in darkness, I grabbed a seat on the patio and set up my hookah. Should I have asked Isla to come join me? Obviously, I desperately wanted to. Obviously, it was the only courteous thing to do. Obviously, that was a very dangerous road to take.
Isla sitting beside me in total privacy and the dim lights of my patio?
Perfect. Perfect atmosphere to place my lips on hers and finally taste her.
Perfect place to have her straddle me while I ran my hands all over her body.
Perfect time to tell her how incredibly hung up and obsessed I was with her.
No. Stop. I had to bring it back to reality; what was I doing? Yes. The tobacco.
I closed my eyes and inhaled a lungful of smoke, listening to nothing, and desperately ransacking my brain for thoughts that would distract me from that thong on Isla’s body.
I reminisced about all the times I smoked hookah in Russia. Every time I went back, I had a great time. Parties, girls, alcohol, total freedom. But none of those thoughts made me excited or happy. I didn't want to do any of that shit anymore; I only wanted—
"Good evening." A gentle voice startled me, and I ripped my eyes open to see angel Isla standing at the sliding doors, her hair down but wearing the same all-white outfit. "I'm sorry, did I scare you?"
Yes, Isla, you fucking petrify me with how much I want nothing else in life except to have you in my arms.
“No. What's up?" I spoke coldly and watched her tippy-toe onto the patio and come a little closer.
"I have something of yours too. I think it's yours at least. It has your initials." With a mysterious smile on her face, she stretched out her hand, the cupcake cufflink with the pink frosting resting easily between her fingers.
"Oh my God! Where did you find it?!" I sat up as if electrocuted, not realizing how ridiculous I must have looked. Isla only giggled at my reaction while my eyes were glued to the cufflink in her hand.
"I think the lady that comes to clean thought it was mine. I found it on my dresser when I was getting ready for bed."
She dropped the cufflink in my hand, joy and relief seeping through all of me. Thank fuck.
"Thank you!" I burst with excitement. "I was looking for this all evening!
That's how I found your thong." Oh, fuck this.
"Sit. Here." I passed her the pipe once she took a half seat beside me.
"Sit normally. I won't bite." But I wanted to.
I wanted to land small bites on her neck.
I wanted to bite her inner thigh and leave a mark.
"Um, I don't know how to smoke this." She held the pipe and eyed it apprehensively, all shy and fucking adorable. God damn it, Isla, who the hell were you?!
Holding back my smile, I explained what to do, and she followed my instructions, taking a small drag and immediately coughing. Mmm, what a sweet angel.
"Why do you have such girly cufflinks, Roman? You look like you're more into skulls and...I don't know, other manly things." Isla laughed at her own words while she sat cross-legged on the soft chair, gifting me a genuine smile.
I’m just into you at this point, Isla. Nothing else could possibly occupy my mind.
"It was a gift." I did my best to sound nice but didn’t share anymore details, the scar on my heart never having fully healed.
"Oh. Well, it's cute."
In silence, I kept my eyes on how she brought the pipe to her lips again. This time, she didn't cough, but the way she blew the smoke out almost made me pass out. Fuck, she was so sensual...she was so graceful...she was so effortlessly beautiful.
I leaned back on my chair and wondered what the fuck I was supposed to do next. My obsession with her was becoming all-encompassing. It obliterated everything inside me. It was slowly driving me crazy. And she had no clue.
And truthfully, guilt screamed inside me. Isla was a good girl. A lovely, gorgeous, gentle, and kind girl, and someone like me had his eye on her. This was a recipe for disaster; I knew that without any doubt.
Isla was sunshine and sensuality. She was polite, she was smart, she had goals in life, she was a whole wonderful universe, and I was nothing but a criminal.
What could possibly go wrong if we linked our lives together?
Everything. I didn't want to ruin her and drag her into my world, and at the same time I was slowly dying from that understanding.
"Roman?" She ripped me out of my thoughts with her tender voice.
"Hm?" I was eager to engage but kept my eyes on the dark sky, as far away from her as possible.
"Did it hurt getting all those tattoos?" She sounded so na?ve when she asked that, and a huge smile appeared on my face before I could stop it. Of course, Isla, it was painful as fuck.
"A little," I lied. "But, at some point, your skin numbs to the sensation. Why? You want one?" Nope, a girl like Isla would never consider that.
"No.” She confirmed my thoughts. "Why do you have so many?" She probed deeper, satisfying me with her curiosity about me.
"I'm not sure, actually. Once you get one, you just want another one, and then it kind of becomes addictive." But it was mostly because the physical pain helped relieve emotional pain. My most painful tattoos were all done after my sister passed away, and I kept coming back for more self-torture.
"So you get addicted easily?" Her playful tone sent tingles through me.
But how did Isla manage to turn simple conversations into thought-provoking and soul-torturing questions?
I tried my best to avoid drugs throughout my life and only did it a few times because yes, I knew I could get addicted easily.
And now I was addicted to her…and there was no way to break the habit.
"Depends. To what. Or to who." My whole body zinged at my own words. Maybe she would pick up on the fact that the who was her.
"I didn't realize it was possible to get addicted to a person.
" She chuckled, and her small laugh filled me up with joy.
"Anyway. I should go to bed, or I'm going to fall asleep here.
Thanks for teaching me how to smoke this thing.
" She passed me the pipe, and vicious disappointment stung my chest. I didn’t want her to leave.
Her tippy toes on the ground again, she lifted herself up off the chair while I searched my entire brain for words to make her stay.
Nothing came to me. No excuse popped up in my head to delay her.
"Good night, Roman,” she called out once she was at the door and then disappeared inside.
Deadly silence overcame me, and I descended into a black hole of despair. Fuck. I met someone who was slowly killing me with her kindness and good intentions. Someone who I would never ever be able to forget. Someone who I was desperate to keep beside me…so I could keep breathing.