35. Cannonball
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
cannonball
ROMAN
It’s a couple hours after dinner and we’re locked into a ruthless game of Monopoly, drinking prosecco out of tiny mugs in front of a crackling fire. I don’t know how many bottles we’ve torn through, but it feels like I haven’t stopped laughing for ten minutes. I’ve been so isolated for so many years, I forgot how much fun I can have if I just let my guard down.
Logan’s been trying to buy my properties off of me, his proposed deals getting shittier by the minute, but I’m paying more attention to Imogen, all pink-cheeked and bright eyed in her giant NYU sweater. As I watch her giggle at one of Abi’s jokes, I just can’t help myself, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone.
ROMAN: I need you.
I send the text without even considering the fact that her phone is right in front of her, face up on the table for everyone to see. Clearly I’ve had one too many drinks.
Imogen’s eyes flick toward her phone and she turns it over with lightning speed, just as Abi gets to her feet.
“I’m going to get our big real estate mogul some water, he needs hydration.”
“I have hydration!” Logan wails, lifting his mug of wine. “I’m good!”
“You are not! ” Abi laughs, heading for the cupboards.
Logan rolls his eyes and goes back to hunting through his properties, frowning as he counts his cards.
“I thought I had more than this.”
“You’ve been selling them, pal,” I laugh. “You traded me one for a bottle of wine, remember?”
Abi places a big glass of ice water in front of him, patting him on the shoulder.
“Drink up, Doc.”
He stares up at her, pure adoration etched into his features.
“You know what you are, Doctor King?”
“What?” She giggles.
“You’re the goddamn King of the Doctors!”
Abi ruffles his hair, messing it up even more than it already is.
“You need to slow down, Flynn.”
“I can’t slow down,” he slurs. “I’m about to pull off the best real estate deal in the history of… history!”
“Oh, really?” Abi laughs. “Let’s see it, then! Show the class.”
He leans over the table, knocking over some of the game pieces as he points at me.
“I’ll give you the keys to my car if I can have Park Place.” The moment I start laughing, he pulls his keys out of his pocket, jingling them in my face. “Roman, are you listening? You could be the proud new owner of my Jaguar.”
One of his eyes is drooping and he can barely keep focused on me, much less point in my direction. I scoff and sip my drink as the girls exchange an eye roll at Logan’s expense.
“You know, for an Irishman, you’re really shit at handling your liquor,” I chuckle.
“That’s not true,” Logan slurs. “Abi, tell him how many beers I had in Seattle.”
“Four,” Abi replies, stone-faced.
“You hear that Burke, four!” He bellows, smacking his hand on the table.
Logan’s always been a wild drunk— not violent or anything, just incredibly talkative and easily excitable.
Like a puppy.
And then he usually passes out.
Also like a puppy.
“Now, car for Park Place. C’mon, Burke. Don’t bitch out on me in my hour of need.”
“Logan, don’t do something you’re gonna regret in the morning!” Imogen groans, flinging a card at him. “Here, you can have Baltic Avenue if you leave Roman alone.”
We clink glasses and Logan snorts, pointing at the two of us.
“I don’t like that you’re friends,” he mumbles, the words barely coherent. “I can’t have two of you tag teaming me.”
I look over to see Abi staring at us with a gleam in her eyes, like she’s trying to figure something out. I do my best to ignore it, keeping my attention on Logan.
“Well, it’s hard not to when you get hammered off of three glasses of wine.”
It’s only another half hour or so before we’re in the final stages of the game.
Imogen’s swimming in cash from people landing on her hotels, even after gifting her brother another property or two to keep him solvent.
Abi’s laughing at everything while she miscounts money, wondering out loud why she’s missing five hundred dollars every couple minutes.
Logan’s broke and mortgaging houses, still insistent that he can win the game until he lands in jail one final time, slumping over and letting out a defeated groan.
“I hate this fucking game! It’s haunted by the basement curse!”
“No, you’re just so drunk you can barely think.” Abi scoops up the dice and rolls for her turn, landing on one of my properties with a grimace as she forks over twenty-five bucks. “What do you guys wanna do tomorrow?”
“There’s that party,” Logan mumbles, lifting his head.
Great. Another event where I have to keep my hands to myself.
“Party?” Abi asks. “I don’t remember anything about a party.”
“Yeah, some kinda… networking thing for the faculties.” Logan finishes the last of his drink. “I can’t remember the details, but it’s open bar.”
“Open bar? Really?” Abi asks. “That’s generous for a conference.”
“Well, it makes it easier for a bunch of socially awkward nerds to talk to people.”
“Speaking for yourself there, dude?”
Imogen snickers as I roll the dice, landing on Chance.
“Hey, at least my nerdiness wasn’t genetic,” Logan fires back. “You wore orthotics and coke bottle glasses until tenth grade.”
“I’m going to smother you in your sleep,” she growls.
“Okay, okay!” Abi waves her arms. “That’s enough fighting! You guys wanna go to this super-cool new party tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, flipping over the Chance card.
Go to jail.
“Yes!” Logan bellows. “Welcome to the slammer, Burke! We can be cellmates!”
“Let’s not make that a reality, shall we?”
“Yeah, good point. You snore, I’d shank you in a second,” Logan snickers.
“Oh, please, you wouldn’t last half a second in a fight with me.”
He flips me the bird, and suddenly I can feel Imogen’s hand on my shoulder.
“Brutal, cowboy.”
I bristle at the name, my heart pounding.
“What did you call him?” Logan snorts.
Abi perks up and that look in her eyes makes me nervous.
“Was it cowboy?” She laughs.
Imogen’s cheeks turn bright pink and she lets out a nervous chuckle, removing her hand as my body stiffens. Now we’re even when it comes to fuckups.
“Uh, Roman and I were talking one day after class and he said he used to ride horses, so… I started calling him cowboy. In class. It’s just a dumb joke we have.”
She laughs, a little too loudly.
Abi’s eyes volley between the two of us, her suspicion clearly evident now, but I stay quiet. She doesn’t have much proof, and what she does have, I can write off as friendly banter between colleagues. As far as anyone knows that’s all it is.
“I forgot about your whole growing up on a ranch thing,” Logan mutters, laying his head down on the gameboard.
“Well, I don’t talk about it that much. It was a long time ago.”
“So, did you, like, work on the ranch?” Abi asks. “How come I’ve never heard about this before?”
I roll my eyes, my nerves fried from the possibility that this little nickname could be our undoing.
“My dad was a bull rider and my uncle was a rodeo clown. They toured together for years, but they always came back to our ranch in Montana. That’s where I grew up.”
“A bull rider?! How did I not know about this?” Abi laughs.
“Roman’s very secretive about his rodeo-clown ancestry.” Logan’s eyes go wide with a sudden realization. “If I run down to the basement and get some rope, can you lasso something?”
“Yeah, you,” I fire back, kicking him gently under the table. “I’ll drag your ass all the way to your room. It’s the only way you’ll get a good night’s sleep.”
Logan makes a face at me as Imogen rolls the dice.
“How come you ended up going into academia then?” She asks. “It seems like you really took to life on the ranch.”
I’ve never really figured out the answer to this question. I was always good in school, where the rest of my family never made it beyond a tenth grade education. To be fair, they didn’t need to. They were smart as hell at what they did: raising animals, keeping the ranch running, and making sure we always had money in the bank and food on the table.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I think part of me always wanted to see what the world was like beyond the ranch, even from a young age. When I told my dad I got into a PhD program, he was so proud; said I’d be the first doctor in the family. I think he always sort of knew I would never stay in Montana.”
“Wow,” Abi sighs. “I thought me being a secret Canadian was cool, this is so much better.”
“You’re Canadian?” Imogen gasps, making a big show of covering her mouth in surprise.
“Yeah.” She nods, sipping her wine. “I grew up in Ontario. I actually, uh… I met Logan at a conference in Toronto before I got the job at EBU.”
She blushes, shaking her head.
“Sorry, whose turn was it?”
“Uh, Roman’s, I think,” Imogen replies, sliding me the dice.
We go around the board a few more times, the conversation fading bit by bit until I decide I’ve had enough. I need them to go to bed so that I can get my hands on Imogen. It’s been hell not being able to touch her all damn day.
“Well, I’m ready to call it,” I sigh. “Is there a big loser sign I’m supposed to wear or something?”
Logan tosses his cards down, nodding while trying not to pass out.
“Nah, I forgot to make one for you.” He yawns, stretching his long arms over his head. “I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Same,” Abi agrees.
She starts to pack up and I reach for her hand.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got this. Go to bed. And take him with you.”
Abi heads for the stairs, catching Logan just before he trips and gives himself a concussion.
“Come on, drunky. Let’s go.”
Imogen and I begin cleaning up the game, and tossing out our empty bottles as Logan and Abi disappear upstairs. I hear a bedroom door shut and take the leap, dropping the money in my hand and moving in for a kiss. I can hear Abi and Logan laughing upstairs as Imogen rubs her nose against mine.
“Tonight?”
I’m exhausted, but I’d be an idiot not to take advantage of the fact that our bunkmates are not only sleeping upstairs, but probably too wasted to even notice what we’re doing down here.
“Wait until they’re asleep and then slip back down here. You’re in charge.”