2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
Roman
Jett eyes me from across the island in the kitchen as I chop onions. I don’t even have to glance up to know that he’s watching me, assessing me. “Fuck off,” I growl at him as I transfer the onions to the pan on the stove behind me.
“I didn’t say a word, kumpel.”
“I can hear you thinking from over here. Go the fuck away.”
His deep laugh as he stands up and pushes his stool beneath the bar only irritates me more. Jett may be like a brother to me, but he’s still a person, and he still gets on my fucking nerves just like everyone else. It makes no difference to me that he’s only been here for twenty minutes.
“I’m going to get Everest from Maven’s office.” He informs me as he grabs his backpack from the couch and heads toward the door.
What he’s implying is loud and clear. I won’t be returning. Have fun.
I plop the knife down onto the cutting board in exasperation. “Seriously, Jett. Fuck right off.”
He swings the front door open before turning back to me. “Keep telling yourself that I am the one who is crazy, Roman. It will get you far, you know?”
I go to open my mouth, and he holds his hand up to stop me. “Yes, yes. I know,” he says as he rolls his eyes sarcastically. “Fuck off.”
I pick the knife back up, feeling a little smug as I finish chopping the other half of my onion.
I’m antsy, nerves flooding my system as I finish working on lunch.
The butterflies swimming around inside of me make me feel like I’m about to go on a first date, but we all know that Lance Owens does not date.
Especially not me. I will never understand why I had to become infatuated with the only unattainable person in this fucking place.
Everyone else at Blightridge seems to fall in love within mere months of arriving here, and yet…
here I am with years of solitude already under my belt.
It’s a blow to my ego; that’s for damn sure.
About thirty minutes later, his knock echoes through the empty space, causing me to glance around in worry.
I’m instantly reminded of the fact that I forgot to clean up around the apartment before he got here, but thankfully Jett and I are pretty organized.
I take a second to straighten the blanket on the back of the sofa before walking over to the door and pulling it open.
When I first met Lance, my physical attraction to him was instant, and today is no exception. His golden skin, those piercing diamond-colored eyes, his feminine features, those lips. Good God, those pouty lips. I want to pull them between my teeth, licking and biting them until he’s begging me to—
Lance clears his throat, pulling my eyes away from said lips and back up to where they should’ve been. Great. I’m already making a fool of myself.
“Are you going to invite me in or… ?”
“I was still debating it,” I mutter under my breath as I step back and allow him to come inside.
As soon as Lance steps over the threshold, one of my security officers, Aspen, starts to pass by in the hallway, doing a double take when he notices me. His steps falter before he pulls to a stop in front of my apartment.
“Yes?” I ask with an unenthused expression, causing Lance to turn back around.
“I was just… Have you heard from Maven regarding the—”
I glance over at Lance and back to the guy before tilting my head in confusion. “Do I look like I’m working right now?”
He shifts on his feet nervously as he looks between Lance and me. “Well… um… no. I— I guess not.”
“You guess?” I asked with a raised brow. I shake my head in disgust as I pull Lance back by his shirt and slam the door closed in the guy’s face.
“I swear, they give me a bunch of idiots to work with.”
Lance chuckles as he pulls away from me and starts walking toward the kitchen. His head tilts back as his nose reaches toward the sky, sniffing excitedly. “What is that smell?”
“Lunch,” I answer as I step around the counter. “I wasn’t finished with the sauce yet, so you’ll have to give me a minute.”
I already have all the ingredients in a bowl, but I didn’t get a chance to mix everything.
I pick up the whisk and get to work, noticing that Lance is uncharacteristically quiet, so I glance across the island at him.
His eyes are locked onto me as he stands behind the stool, curiously watching everything I’m doing.
My movements come to a halt, immediately concerned that he’s not in the mood for what I made. I hadn’t even thought to ask.
“If you’d prefer something else, I can run down to the shop.” I offer as I let go of the whisk and dust my hands off on my pants.
“No, no.” He shakes his head as he pulls the stool across from me out and warily slides into the seat. “It looks fucking delicious. I just— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone here cook before.”
I let out an annoyed scoff as I grab a plate of food from behind me and slide it across to him. “It’s a lost art in this place. The amount of people that know how to make anything more than ramen is absolutely pathetic.”
I return my attention back to the bowl in front of me, but I can feel his eyes following my movements as I finish mixing the sauce.
I grab two smaller bowls from the cabinet behind me and spoon some out for us to eat with our meal.
I glance up as I reach out to offer him one, and the way he’s staring at me sends my heart into spasms. I try to focus on something else, anything else, to keep from spending the rest of the night overthinking the way he’s looking at me.
“It’s sweet…” He admits unabashedly as he reaches out and takes the bowl from me. When his fingers brush across my flesh, my eyes snap back to his. His eyelashes flutter as he glares back at me knowingly. I start to worry that he can see through everything. The cooking. The clothes. Me.
My cheeks start to heat, so I tear my eyes away before it becomes blatantly obvious what’s going on inside of me. This deeply sown desperation I feel for his attention. The insatiable desire for his touch. For him. Having him realize how infatuated I am with him is the last fucking thing I need.
Everything about this, all of it, feels really fucking foolish. I know how Lance feels about dating. I know this means absolutely nothing to him. I might as well be an elementary school boy offering my crush a flower that I’ve clung so tightly to that all the petals have fallen off.
Here’s this grand gesture that means absolutely nothing to you that I’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time obsessing over.
Or… you know. Here’s my heart, what’s left of it, let me just put it right here on the ground for you.
Yep, that looks perfect. Now, just stomp all over— Just like that. Great. ‘Preciate it, man.
It’s useless to even try denying it at this point.
I can’t explain away the butterflies that swim around in my gut every time he’s around.
The sweaty palms, the fact that I showered, actually combed my hair, or spent entirely too long digging around in my closet to find the one grey henley I have that makes my arms look good.
There’s absolutely no denying how I feel about Lance, no matter how little it makes sense or how much I despise it.
Is it ridiculous? Yes. Undoubtedly. So fucking ridiculous that it’s maddening.
I wish that I could figure out how to make it stop or at least transfer these feelings to someone else.
You know… someone that doesn’t nearly vomit every time the topic of commitment comes up in conversation.
It’s not like I’m a fucking stickler for monogamy or anything.
I’ve never even been in a serious relationship, because I never had that choice, but I would prefer to eventually have a partner that I could focus on the future with.
I’m no fucking saint, I’ve been with more people than I care to think about, granted most of them were escorts, I’m just ready to find something that feels real.
Something that isn’t just skin deep. At least, I thought that’s what I was looking for…
until my body decided that no one except Lance was worth paying any attention to.
I’m honestly starting to think that it’s just trying to get revenge on me for all the shit I’ve put it through over the years.
Making me crave someone I can never have? Well… that’s just the ultimate ‘fuck you‘, isn’t it?