5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
Lance
I wrote up everything I could remember about various dating apps sent that over to Roman the same day we had lunch.
I didn’t actually get to meet with Maven about it, but I got permission from Ollivander to go ahead with the project in our free time.
He said that he would relay all the information to Maven, and once the app was ready to go live, he’d make an announcement for it.
Telling Roman everything Ollivander said kicked his ass into gear.
For the last few weeks, we’ve spent every night at his place working on the design together.
Jett started staying with Everest a lot during the days, so I’ve been spending almost all of my time here since I don’t have anything better to do.
I’m not really sure when Roman sleeps, because even after I pass out on his couch, he’s still in his chair working when I wake up.
Maybe he’s focused on the project because he’s ready to get rid of me.
Or maybe he’s just glad that he doesn’t have to spend all his time stalking me on the fucking cameras anymore because I’m always lounging in his living room reading or watching television.
“What about… taco soup?”
“That sounds delicious.” I reply as I spin my phone around in circles on his countertop in boredom.
He glares over his shoulder from the refrigerator; his eyes trailing over to it before glancing up to me in irritation.
I slap my hand over the phone to stop the movement and then push it aside so I won’t mess with it anymore.
I know it bothers him when I fidget nonstop.
I’ve been doing my best to control it, but it’s really fucking hard.
Surprisingly enough, the last few weeks have gone insanely well.
Roman and I have only argued a couple of times, and all of them were over the app design.
Somehow, we’ve managed to get really close and spend more time joking with each other than anything.
He’s still a royal dick most of the time, but everything has a lighter tone to it these days.
Dare I say that Roman and I are actually friends now.
You don’t even have to tell me, I’m well aware of how monumentally I’m screwing myself.
One thing I’ve learned about Roman since we’ve started spending so much time together is that first meal he made me wasn’t a fluke.
He’s an incredible cook. I would never tell him, but he makes some of the best damn food I’ve ever eaten.
I think I might actually miss it now that we’re done working on the app, and I’m not sure how I feel about that little revelation.
The bad part is that there are multiple other things I’ve noticed that I’m going to miss about Roman when we stop spending so much time together.
All of this feels a lot like getting a sample of something you really like from the grocery store…
and then it’s out of stock. It’s just a taste, a tiny morsel that makes you so incredibly happy, and then you have to live without it. Forever.
He pulls out some tomatoes and onions before grabbing a cutting board from the cabinet. I watch silently, lost in thought, as he dices them with the precision of a chef. It’s fucking mesmerizing.
“So, you think we’re ready to tell Ollivander?”
I let out a breath of resignation. There’s no reason to put it off anymore, even if I’m not ready for this to be over. Whatever this is. “I guess so. I think everything looks good and it’s running perfectly. You did a great job on everything.”
His eyes dart up to mine before he focuses back on his knife. “Thanks,” he replies quietly. “You too.”
“Do you think people will actually use it?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. It seems like it’ll make the dating process much smoother. I see why it’s common in the outside world now that you’ve explained the logistics.”
“Will you use it?” I ask curiously as I pick at my fingernails. Everest painted them black for me a few weeks ago, but they’re starting to peel away. I really need to repaint them.
He sets the knife down and cuts his eyes up to mine. “Will you?”
“If you will, I will.” I reply with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s probably best we try it for ourselves. We can keep an eye on it for bugs or crashes.”
“Fine,” he says as he spins around and scrapes the food he chopped into the pot on the stove.
It’s a clinical and dry response, and also a huge flag waving around saying, ‘I’m not actually doing that shit, but you go right ahead.
’ In reality, he’s probably thinking about how many more guys I’m going to be sleeping with because of the stupid app since that’s all he ever seems to talk about when my dating life is brought up.
He thinks I’ve slept with half the damn prison when the truth is that I’ve never touched anyone here at Blightridge.
Of course, I’m a virgin, but I’m talking about any kind of sexual act.
No one. Not even the guards I had when I first arrived.
Jett laid claim to Everest as soon as he saw him, so I didn’t touch him either.
Not that I would have anyway. He’s definitely not my type.
It’s oddly quiet as Roman finishes cooking dinner.
We discuss it a little more, and eventually I work up the courage to send Ollivander a text about the app going live.
We eat, watch some of a nature documentary, have Devlin over for a few minutes to check on Salem, and at some point, I pass out on his couch again.
“Lance…” Someone calls for me from somewhere in the distance.
It’s dark, so I can’t see farther than a few feet in front of me. It’s stuffy in here too, and I feel like I’m back there. I reach my hands out, feeling for the cold stone walls, but no matter how many careful steps I take, I can’t find it.
“I’m here,” I call out into the darkness.
“Lance…” The voice calls for me again. The sound feels like it’s echoing from every direction, and it’s disorienting me. It causes panic to grip my chest tightly. My breaths get ragged as they come faster and faster. Where are they? Do they have my brother? Is he safe?
“I’m right here!” I yell back, but I don’t think they can hear me.
I speed up, my steps less calculated as I search for the familiarity of the cement surrounding me, but it’s still nowhere to be found.
I can’t be in the basement. It isn’t this big.
I know every single inch of it by heart, so I have to be somewhere else.
Somewhere I’m unfamiliar with. Which means that my brother could be in danger.
“Gatlin!” I call out, but only silence answers me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I chant to myself. I’m almost sprinting now, despite the fact that I could smack into a wall at any point. I have to figure out where I am. I have to figure out how to get out of here.
The sound of a door creaking open slowly sends me sliding to a halt.
It’s the same ear-piercing squeal of hinges that I’m used to, so I must be in the basement.
I have to be. The echo makes it impossible for me to pinpoint which direction the noise came from, but nothing is the same anymore.
Even if I could figure out what direction the noise came from, would I be able to find the stairs?
“Lance…” The sultry voice purrs. This time it sounds different, recognition sending a chill down my spine.
I freeze, standing as still as I possibly can.
If I don’t move, then she won’t be able to find me.
She’d never risk sullying her shoes to come down here.
That means I won’t get any food, but they won’t force Gatlin down here as long as I’m down here.
I slowly squat to the floor, letting the cool concrete ground me as I lay down, curling up atop it silently.
“Lance!”
I jerk awake, jolting upright as I desperately cling to my chest. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust since the monitors are shining brightly into the darkness surrounding us. I gasp in breath after breath as Roman reaches out and rubs my shoulder.
“Deep breaths. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”
Fuck. This is just what I needed. Another reason for Roman to hate me. I don’t know if he was asleep, or if I was just bothering him while he was trying to work. Either way, it was enough of a nuisance that he decided to wake me up.
“I’m f-fine.” I choke out with a nod. “Fine. I’m fine.”
“Yeah… and I’m fucking a Catholic at midnight mass. Here…“ He says as he offers me a bottle of water. “That why you don’t sleep much?”
I twist the cap off the bottle and chug half of it as I watch him walk back over to his desk. He sits down in his chair and turns toward me. “Well?”
“How do you know I don’t sleep much?” I ask as I put the cap back on the bottle. I set it on the coffee table and run my hands through my sweaty hair. I need another shower. Fantastic.
He points to the cameras and gives me a cunning smirk. “You’re out an about all hours of the night. Going to the market, talking to people, going on runs and walks. Your sleep schedule isn’t just bad, it’s nonexistent.”
I glance over to the clock, noting that it’s nearly six in the morning, which means I have to be at work in a few hours.
I’m surprised I even slept as long as I did.
I mean we were up watching television until at least two in the morning, but it’s still the most sleep I’ve had consecutively in months.
My eyes trail back over to Roman, who is staring at me expectantly. He doesn’t really look irritated, more like subtly worried, but he doesn’t actually care about me, so I refuse to give him shit. I doubt he’ll even want to be friends anymore, so this is none of his concern.
“It’s not what you think. I just don’t need a lot of sleep.” I reply as I stand up, stretching my arms above my head. I glance around, searching for my shoes.
“Why do you do that shit?” He grumbles as he turns back toward his desk.
“Do what?” I ask as I walk over to the entry table and start slipping on my sneakers.
“Act like you aren’t allowed to be just as broken as everyone else.” He replies as he flicks through the camera feeds.
Once my shoes are on, I grab the door handle before turning back toward him. My eyes dart back and forth, watching his fluid movements as I contemplate his question. My mind wanders to that place, the one that haunts me when I sleep and trickles into my thoughts from the past like poison.
There are so many pieces of that time in my life that infected me, and no matter how hard I try to get rid of them, they continue to pump through my veins like a disease.
When I’m with Roman, I get a reprieve. I forget those parts of myself without even trying.
When I’m asleep, and pretty much any other time, I struggle to separate those pieces.
I don’t know how to be anything other than what they made me into, and I hate that about myself.
I don’t want to be them, but it doesn’t really matter, because I am.
“We’re all a product of where we came from, Roman. We are our past. Yours might have felt like a death sentence, so I sympathize with you, but I spent a lot of nights wishing that’s what mine was.”
Roman tilts his head curiously as he stares back at me.
I know it’s a vulnerable admission, and a stupid one, but it’s the first shred of honesty I dare to offer him.
It’s the only thing I’ve ever shared about where I came from with anyone in this prison, and to the one person that hated me the most, no less.
I feel flayed open, and I want to claw at my own chest to rip out all the feelings I’m having.
They’re toxic, caustic, eating away at me from the inside.
I’d rather be fucking empty than have to live with this shit they implanted inside of me.
I hate it.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I hate me.