Chapter 11
Roman
As I open the door of the bungalow, Iris laments, “I’ll never be able to leave my house again.”
Shit. I quietly close the door and peek around the corner. She’s lying on the couch facing away from me in the midst of a FaceTime call.
“News cycles move at the speed of light these days,” one of two female faces on Iris’s screen offers. The other woman on Iris’s screen adds, “Give it a day or two, and the world will forget all about the viral ‘Runaway Bride.’”
“The ‘Horny Runaway Bride,’” Iris says with a sniffle.
“Let’s not gloss over that.” She sniffles again.
“I can’t believe the only part anyone cares about is that I said I was going get myself railed and scrambled in Hawaii.
Why isn’t anyone talking about Brandon being a lying, cheating piece of shit? ”
“They are, honey. Lots of people are saying exactly that.”
The second woman says, “I know the negative voices seem a lot louder to you, but not everyone on the internet is dragging you. Lots of people are cheering you on and calling you a badass for what you did.”
Iris shakes her head. “If only I hadn’t said that thing at the end about getting myself railed and scrambled. You know I was only parroting Brandon’s exact words, right?”
“We know that, yes, but it seems that got lost in translation for anyone who hasn’t pored over Brandon’s phone, like we have.”
Iris groans. “If Roman sees that video, I’ll die of em-
barrassment.”
I jolt at the mention of my name.
“Why?”
“If he sees it, he’ll think I walked in on him in that bathroom as part of some diabolical plan.”
“Was it a plan?” one of the women retorts. “No. But did you manifest that hunky man? I honestly think you did, baby.”
The other one laughs. “I think maybe you’re a witch.”
Iris scoffs. “If I had magical powers, I assure you, a video of me at my absolute worst wouldn’t be going viral.”
One of the women lets out an angry grunt. “I swear, if I find out the identity of MackDaddy310, I’m going to strangle them for posting that stupid video.”
“It had to be one of Brandon’s fraternity brothers,” the other woman says. “Or one of their plus-ones. The angle is from where they were sitting.”
Iris exhales. “It doesn’t matter. Identifying whoever posted it won’t put the genie back in the bottle, unfortunately.”
“I’m so sorry this is happening to you, honey.”
Iris sniffles. “It’s okay. At least I’m not Mrs. Gladstone right now. I’m trying really hard to focus on that silver lining.”
“Another silver lining?” one of the women says. “You finally got to experience amazing sex for the first time. Kudos to you, Iris. Your manifestation worked like a charm.”
Iris scoffs again. “If I manifested Roman, then why didn’t I think to manifest that video not existing, too?
Damn it! I can’t let Roman see that stupid thing.
Everything that happened between us unfolded in such a genuine, organic way yesterday, but that video makes it seem like I’m some kind of horny, homicidal maniac who landed in Kauai and immediately set off to find a random hot guy to rail me. ”
“He wouldn’t think that. But if he did, why would he care, since he got some fantastic, meaningless sex out of the situation?”
I bristle at Iris’s friend’s word choice. Rationally, “meaningless” is an accurate descriptor for the sex that transpired last night, I suppose, and yet my body is reacting like it’s been gravely insulted.
One of the women asks, “What’s his last name? I’ll google him.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“What? Rookie move, Iris.”
“Because I’m a rookie!”
The women on the call crack up at Iris’s comedic delivery, as I burst out laughing, too, without meaning to do it; but luckily, the sound of my laughter is drowned out by all three women cackling like hyenas together.
“When Roman comes back, ask if you can stay another night,” one of the women says. “From what you’ve described, one night isn’t nearly enough with a man like that.”
“I can’t do that, Kaylee.”
“Why not? You need a place to stay, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind another night of fantastic sex.”
“Fantastic sex is par for the course for a guy like him. He can get it anywhere, any time. He doesn’t need lil’ ol’ me for that.”
No, sweetheart. The firestorm that practically burned down this bungalow last night is the rare exception, not the rule, even for a guy like me.
“Girl, no,” the same woman replies. “No matter how hot he is, scorching-hot sex like what you’ve described doesn’t come along very often for anybody.”
Ain’t that the truth.
The other woman agrees. “Kaylee’s right. I’m sorry to tell you this, but amazing sex is hard to come by, especially with someone who’s also capable of carrying on an interesting conversation like Roman.”
“Well, crap,” Iris says. “That’s terrible news. Now that I’ve finally experienced great sex for the first time, I don’t think I can go back to living without it.”
“So, ask to stay another night. Or, hell, for the whole week.”
“I can’t do that. At least, not without showing him the video first, which I’m not willing to do.”
“Why would you have to show him the video to stay another night and fuck his brains out?”
“What if we go outside at some point—say, to the breakfast buffet at the hotel—and someone recognizes me? If they see Roman with me, they’ll think he’s the random, hot stranger I enlisted to have sex with me.”
“Who cares if they do?”
“Roman might care.”
The friend chuckles. “You’re overthinking this, honey. Just ask to stay for the week, and then hunker down with him in the bungalow the whole time and enjoy an epic sex-fest.”
Iris snorts. “I didn’t fly all the way here to stay inside the whole time.
Not even for amazing sex. Also, Roman’s so nice, he’d say yes to me out of sheer pity, and I don’t want to put him in that position.
He’s on vacation; he doesn’t need to babysit some heartbroken runaway bride when he could be off having fun in paradise. ”
Pity?
Babysit?
I can’t believe how far off the mark she is.
“So, where are you gonna go?” one of the women asks.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure something out. There’s got to be a cheap hostel or motel somewhere. God knows that’s all I can afford.”
“I’ll send you money. I just got paid.”
“No, I’ll manage. Thank you, though.” Iris wipes her eyes. “I should go before Roman gets back. I want to be dressed and ready to say a quick goodbye as soon he gets here. Thank you both for telling me about the video so I didn’t have to cry all by myself.”
“We’re so sorry this happened,” one of her friends coos. “We love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
“Stay off the internet this week!” the second woman calls out. “Get out there and have fun. Explore the island. Read lots of books. Take lots of naps.”
“I vote she finds another hot stranger to rail her and scramble her insides.”
My body zings with jealousy. Hell to the fucking no.
“I promise I’ll have as much fun as I can this week,” Iris replies. “But I’m not going to have sex with anyone else. Especially not now that I know amazing sex is rare. I’m hereby officially swearing off men for a long while.”
“I didn’t mean to imply Roman is your only shot at having amazing sex in your entire lifetime,” one of the women says.
“Look, I know you think Roman is some kind of peerless sex god among men, but since you only have Brandon to compare him to, how would you know that? Brandon set the bar really low, honey. Once you start having sex with more and more people, maybe you’ll find out sex with Roman was only mediocre. ”
Excuse me?
“No, Roman’s a legit sex god,” Iris insists. “I don’t need a basis of comparison to know that. All I need to know is he’s the most gorgeous, charming man I’ve ever met, and I had three orgasms with him.”
“Three?” both women simultaneously bellow.
“Okay, yeah, he’s definitely a sex god,” one of them quickly adds.
Thank you. Fucking hell.
Iris gasps. “Oh! I just remembered I have all those prepaid vouchers for ‘adventures for two’ for the week. I can do all that fun stuff by myself!”
Her friends react with enthusiasm.
“Thanks for the pep talk, ladies,” Iris says. “I’d better get going before Roman gets back.”
As Iris says her final goodbyes, I creep to the front door, open and close it loudly, and then stride into the room, breathing hard like I just finished my run mere minutes ago.
“Stay off the internet this entire week!” one of Iris’s friends shouts, just as I appear in the living room.
Iris sees me and flushes. “Okay, bye for now.” She abruptly ends the call and greets me with a bright smile. “Hey there! How was your run?”
“Good.” I sit next to her. “Did you see the food I left for you?”
“I ate every bit of it. Thank you. I was famished.”
“You slept a long time. How do you feel?”
“Like new. Thank you for letting me sleep. Sorry it was for so long.”
“I’m glad you got what you needed.” I motion to her phone. “Who were you talking to?”
“My best friends.” She shifts in her seat. “They, uh, know our other friend, the one who canceled on me this week, so they wanted to make sure I’m doing okay here all by myself.”
She’s a terrible liar. Bright cheeks. Shifty gaze. If I keep pushing, I’m pretty sure she’ll crack and tell me what’s really going on. “Why did one of your friends shout ‘stay off the internet this week!’ before hanging up?” I playfully side-eye her. “Are you addicted to porn, Iris?”
“You caught me.” She laughs. “No, my friend who said that was just reminding me to be fully present so I can thoroughly enjoy everything the island has to offer.” Her chin wobbles slightly, but she quickly camouflages it with a sad little smile.
I stroke her leg and ask softly, “Have you been crying?” Her tears have dried, but her eyes and cheeks are still red, so it’s believable I’d ask the question, even if I hadn’t been eavesdropping.
She shakes her head. “My eyes are probably puffy from sleeping so long.”
Man, she’s a tougher nut to crack than expected. As I ponder my next move, there’s a brief, awkward silence, which Iris fills with, “I’ll get myself packed up. Thank you again, Roman. For everything.” She hugs me. “I had an amazing time with you.”
I’m surprised she’s truly planning to leave without at least hinting about me asking her to stay longer—or, at the very least, that we should have sex another time before she heads out.
Cameron’s voice pops into my head. She’s a pariah, Roman. Stay away from her, Roman. But the words that tumble out of my mouth don’t align with Cameron’s instructions. “Stay here for the week,” I blurt. “Stay with me.”
Oops. In deference to Cameron, I planned to say “on me.” Not “with me.” As in, “You can stay here on my dime, while I leave and find somewhere else.” But I guess my dick intervened and blocked the message from my brain to my mouth.
Iris’s cheeks burst with color. “I would love to stay here with you.” She pauses. “But I can’t.”
“Can’t or don’t want to? Come on, Iris, I’m not doing anything this week, except playing golf on Friday. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no good reason for you to go somewhere else, unless that’s what you genuinely want.”
Iris swallows hard. “No, I’d really, really like to stay here with you, but—”
“Great. Then it’s settled.”
“But I really shouldn’t. At least, not without showing you something first—something that might make you decide to revoke your invitation in record time.”