21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Lance
The Five Stages of Grief.
“It’s a fucking joke, is what it is. He just thinks that he can control everything I do, and I’m so fucking sick of it.
Go to the bar? He has them cut off my drinks.
Try to dance? He calls the people I’m with because he knows I’m not going to answer his stupid ass.
He’s. Fucking. Everywhere. Why won’t he just leave me the fuck alone, already? ” I huff as I pull out my phone.
I just thought that I was going to be free of Roman because we stopped seeing one another.
Boy, was I wrong. I knew that this shit was going to happen.
He’s sticking his grubby little fingers into every part of my life and guess what…
Ollivander said they can’t do anything about it.
I fucking called it, didn’t I? This is exactly what I said would happen.
Everyone is a chicken shit when it comes to Roman, and I don’t understand it.
Oh, I’ll hack your computer and scowl at you from the other side of a camera. Whooptie Doodie. WHO GIVES A FUCK?
It pisses me off that I’m stuck living in the shithole with him, and there’s nothing I can do to get away from it.
I can’t make him leave me alone. I can’t get him to stop calling or texting me.
I can’t make him go away. I can’t even get them to make him stop watching me on the fucking cameras because ‘that’s his job.
’ I just have to live with it and hope that he eventually gets bored.
I prop my feet up on the coffee table across from Ollivander’s desk and ignore every single missed notification I have from Roman as I go to check if SeeYouClearly has messaged me back yet.
He’s been working on a project with Maven, and he was super excited about it, but he refuses to tell me exactly what it is yet.
I glance up at Olli, envious of his job.
I bet that he knows what they’ve been working on, but I doubt that he would tell me.
I wonder if I spent more time around the office with him and started offering to help him and Maven with stuff, if I could start hearing about some of the super-secret shit that goes on around here.
That would be pretty cool, and I have plenty of free time now.
“You wanna know what I think?” Olli asks as he peers over his glasses at me.
“Not really, but I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?” I mutter under my breath as I look back down at my phone.
“Why, yes. Yes, I am. I think you’re a gaggle of idiots. If you’d both get your head out of your asses and…“ he pauses and squints at me thoughtfully before turning his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. “You know what, forget it. You’ll figure it out on your—”
“FUCK!” Maven roars from his office. It’s immediately followed by a loud crash, startling both of us. We glance back and forth between each other and the door for a moment before Ollivander gathers his wits and bolts toward Maven’s office.
He swings the door open, stopping just steps inside the door. “Wha—What happened?”
I step up behind him, leaning over to look around his shoulder. There are pens, paperwork, folders, thumbtacks, you name it, it’s all over the fucking place.
“Well… that’s a fucking mess.” I add before glancing up at Maven.
His attention immediately turns to me. “You” he says as he points a finger in our direction.
My stomach lurches into my throat, because it’s quite possible that I’ve pissed him off even more, and based on the state of his office, I’m not sure I want to be on the receiving end of his wrath at this particular moment.
I glance between Ollivander and Maven before pointing a finger at myself to clarify whether or not he actually means me.
“Yes. You.“ He says as he rolls his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t call Ollivander ‘you’, I call him by his name.”
“Well, you know my name as well, so excuse me for being confused.“ I grumble as I step around Ollivander.
“Pull out your phone,” he demands. I immediately reach for it and I’m about to offer it to him when the worst possible thing comes out of his mouth.
“Call Roman.”
I fumble my phone, nearly sending it crashing to floor, which I’m sure Maven would’ve loved. This day just keeps getting fucking better, man. I lean my head back, saying a silent prayer to whatever fucking God can save me from this hell.
“Must I?” I ask.
“Now,” he replies sternly.
Fuck. I guess I’m calling Roman then. I hesitate, my finger hovering over his name, but Maven is glaring at me expectantly, and it’s not like I can refuse him.
Once it starts to ring, I click the button to put it on speakerphone since I’m assuming that Maven doesn’t just want me to call him so I can invite him over for Sunday brunch.
“Pretty boy?” He mumbles into the phone. I hate that I know that gravelly voice so well that I’m positive he was asleep. I can see it clearly. Him curled up in bed. His clothes rumbled from hours beneath his sheets. His hair a sweaty mess as he rolls over and rubs his eyes. I fucking hate it.
This is why I haven’t been able to talk to him. I can’t turn off all the shit and my head, and it’s impossible to forget the good parts even when the bad parts should overshadow them. They don’t. They never do.
“You’re on speakerphone, Roman.” I grit out through my teeth. I can’t even explain how annoyed I am that I have to talk to him right now. That I had to call him. On my phone. I had to allow him back into my space when I was doing so fucking good at not doing that.
“Fuck ’em.” He mutters without a care in the world.
I can hear him rustling around, probably rolling himself out of bed.
He’s probably sitting in the exact same place I used to sleep, and I wonder if he ever misses that, having me there when he woke up.
“I’ll tell everyone you’re mine. I don’t give a shit. ”
I glare down at my phone in disbelief because who in the actual fuck does he think he is?
He doesn’t get to lay claim on me just because, because…
what? I don’t even fucking know. He has no right to say that kind of shit to me, or about me, or anything to do with me.
He’s the one that shoved his foot in his mouth and made a mess of everything.
Including me. That’s not even the part that pisses me off though.
The part that makes me irrationally angry is the realization that he’s one hundred percent correct.
There’s no denying it. I can’t even fucking convince myself that I don’t belong to him, so how could I ever begin to make anyone else believe it?
Especially when he’s not afraid to call any damn person that I talk to and stake his claim on me publicly.
At this point, practically the whole prison knows that if they even stop to talk to me for a single second, then Roman is going to either call them or me.
It’s a given. I don’t even bother talking to anyone outside of our small group of friends anymore.
That’s just other people though. Let’s not even get into the fact that I can’t stop my fucking brain from wandering to him every single time I get a second of silence.
Eating dinner? Roman. Showering? Roman! Hanging out with other people.
Oop, that’s Roman too. Taking a shit? It.
Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter. It’s always Roman.
The audacity that it takes for him to assume that he’s got that kind of hold on me is mind-boggling, regardless of how true it is.
It’s egotistical. It’s cocky. It’s brash.
It’s without a doubt true, and he fucking knows it.
That’s what pisses me off.
“I do not belong to anyone, thank you very much.“ I growl back at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of getting in my head any more than he already has.
“If you two are done bickering, I’d like to cut in now.” Maven interrupts with a condescending smirk. Fuck him too.
“What the fu— You could’ve said that you were with Maven.“ Roman hisses at me.
“You didn’t ask.” I reply sarcastically with a shrug as I prop my free hand on my hip in satisfaction. “I told you that you were on speakerphone.”
“Enough!” Maven barks out, startling me. “Roman... I need you in my office. Now.”
“Be there in ten.” He immediately replies with a much more serious tone than before.
The call disconnects, and apparently so does my brain.
I’m standing there, completely lost. My mind is going a million miles a minute.
I’ve done everything humanly possible to avoid being around Roman.
I’ve ignored his calls and texts. I’ve avoided the coffee lounge, and the shop he always goes to, even though they’re the ones closest to my apartment.
I’ve been crawling out of my apartment window instead of using the front door just so that it’s harder for him to keep tabs on me, for crying out loud.
Every single bit of that, I did because of this.
I’m torn in so many fucking directions when it comes to him.
I want to hate him. I want to forgive him.
I want him to fight for me. I want him to leave me the fuck alone.
I want to hear his voice, but I never want to talk to him again.
I just want him, but I know I shouldn’t, and I fucking hate myself for it.
Maven starts picking up some of the shit strewn all over his desk before he finally glances up at Olli and me.
“Sit,” he offers as he waves to the couch across from him.
Neither of us are extremely confident in this interaction right now, so we’re a little leery as we step around the back of the sofa and do our best to look like we aren’t currently freaking out. Olli shifts around over and over again until he finally works up the courage to speak his mind.
“What happened?” He whispers.