Chapter 15
Iris
After our romantic lunch date, Roman and I quickly change into hiking gear in the restaurant bathroom before heading across the street to a small grocery store.
The plan is to pick up a few snacks and sports drinks for today’s next adventure: a two-hour-round-trip hike that supposedly boasts a “must-see” waterfall and jaw-dropping ocean views at its turnaround point.
According to Roman, who’s done the hike before, it isn’t well-known by tourists.
It’s more of a local’s thing. So, we likely won’t encounter too many hikers on the trail.
That’s a plus. Nobody’s recognized me thus far today, and I’d like to keep it that way.
I think it was so sweet of Roman to try to keep me as incognito as possibly today during our date.
“You’re gonna love this hike,” Roman says, taking my hand as we head toward the market.
“It’s one of my favorite spots on Earth.
” Over lunch, Roman told me about how he and some friends did this same hike a few years ago, and his obvious excitement to share it with me sent butterflies into my belly.
I can’t believe how much effort, time, and money Roman is putting into our amazing first date.
The helicopter tour alone would have been the best date of my life—but on top of that, he also treated me to a romantic meal, and now he’s taking me to one of his favorite spots on Earth, too?
Why?
The question pops into my head, unbidden.
Why is Roman pulling out all the stops like this?
He’s a gym owner, after all—probably not a gazillionaire.
So, why spend this much money and time on a nobody he’ll never see again after this week?
I’m sure the dangling carrot of easy sex probably has something to do with it—and, of course, I’m more than happy to supply the easy sex, if that’s all that’s motivating him.
But I have to think this gorgeous, charming, charismatic man could get sex any time he wants from every gorgeous woman he meets. So why me?
I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Whatever’s prompting Roman to act like my very own Prince Charming, I’m grateful for it.
After less than a full day, I’ve already nearly forgotten about my troubles.
But still, being grateful for something doesn’t mean I’m not also confused about Roman’s motivations.
We make it to the market and immediately start perusing an assortment of protein bars and trail mixes on a front rack.
But before we’ve made any selections, a woman in her mid-forties or so practically hurls herself at Roman and screams, “Oh my gosh! Is it really you? You’re my all-time favorite player, Roman! ”
As the woman grips Roman’s broad shoulder with excitement, he visibly stiffens. With his mouth tight and his dark eyes flickering to me, he says, “You want a selfie? Let’s go over there.” He gestures toward the other side of the store. “The lighting is better there.”
“Thank you, Roman!”
As Roman briskly guides the woman away, he calls out to me, “Pick out a bunch of snacks for us and I’ll be right back.”
“My husband is going to be so jealous I met you,” the woman says breathlessly, as Roman guides her away. “He just went back to the hotel for a nap, and he’s a huge Cru—”
“What’s your name?” Roman asks abruptly, interrupting the woman. It’s the last thing I’m able to hear of the conversation before the pair is out of earshot across the store.
I stand frozen for a long moment, watching Roman interacting with the woman with fascination.
Did she attend the University of Texas, just like Roman?
She must have, given that she said Roman is her favorite player.
She looks to be at least ten years older than Roman, though, so she clearly didn’t attend UT Austin at the same time as him.
But then again, lots of people continue supporting their alma mater’s sports teams long after graduation.
My father still religiously watches his old college teams to this day, despite him attending school decades ago.
The cashier leaves her post to take a selfie with Roman, too, and now I’m deeply confused.
Did the cashier go to UT Austin, too, or is she simply hopping on the first woman’s bandwagon after hearing her gush about Roman being her favorite player?
Roman is so freaking handsome, I wouldn’t be surprised if the cashier simply wanted a photo with a hot guy to show her besties.
Look at this insanely hot guy who wandered into the store today!
I strain to hear snippets of the trio’s conversation, but I can only clock Roman smiling while chatting with the ladies, their words indecipherable from here.
After a few minutes, Roman side-hugs each woman before striding back to me in front of the snack rack. “Sorry about that. Did you decide on snacks?”
“Did that first woman go to UT Austin?”
Roman’s jaw muscles pulse. “Possibly.”
“Why’d the cashier want a photo with you, too?”
“She was just being nice, I guess. Should we pick out our snacks?”
“Did that woman’s husband row on the crew team at UT?”
Roman scrunches his brow, looking deeply confused.
“She said her husband was on crew as you two walked away.”
Understanding dawns on Roman. “Oh. No. I don’t know what she said about that.
I wasn’t really listening.” Roman’s Adam’s apple bobs as he grabs a bunch of protein bars and trail mix packs off the rack.
“We should get some sports drinks.” With that, he beelines to a bank of refrigerators at the far back of the store.
When I get to the refrigerated section, Roman’s already holding up four different flavors to me for approval. “Good with you?”
“Great.”
“Do you want anything else?”
“I don’t think so. I’m still stuffed from lunch.”
“Me, too.” And off he goes toward the front of the store, presumably to pay for everything in his hands.
When I catch up to Roman this time, I’m expecting to find him laying down his purchases on the counter.
To my surprise, however, I locate Roman just in time to witness him holding up his bounty, throwing down two hundred-dollar bills without stopping, and then calling over his shoulder, “Keep the change, Katie!”
“Thank you so much, Roman!” the cashier calls back. “Wow!”
Roman barrels outside, rather than stopping to open the door for me like he’s been doing all morning. Thanks to his long, determined strides, coupled with my much shorter legs, I have to sprint to catch up before settling into a healthy jog alongside him.
My what-the-fuck-o-meter is screaming at me.
Roman was nothing but polite and kind to both women in that store, so it’s not like I’m wondering if I’m spending the day with an epic asshole who’s only pretending to be a nice person around me.
But still, that whole interaction felt off, like Roman couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Was he worried the women might recognize me from the viral video?
That’s got to be it! Multiple times today, I’ve expressed anxiety about someone recognizing me, so I bet he was trying to protect me from embarrassment in there.
The realization makes me swoon even harder. He’s so thoughtful.
“Were you worried someone was going to recognize me in there?” I ask, keeping pace with Roman as he moves gracefully toward his rental car.
“That didn’t cross my mind, Iris. I just don’t want to chat with strangers while on a date with you.”
I’m not sure if I believe the video didn’t cross Roman’s mind. In fact, I’d bet he’s not admitting his true thought process to keep me from feeling embarrassed or anxious.
“How’d you know the cashier’s name?”
“Hmm?”
“You called her Katie on the way out.”
“She told me her name while we were taking a photo. I make it a habit to immediately use someone’s name after they’ve supplied it to me. That’s the kind of thing people remember, you know?”
I mean, he’s not wrong. But I’ve never heard anyone express name recall with strangers as a conscious habit they’ve cultivated. Then again, I’ve never met a gym owner with high-profile clients before, so I bet Roman’s got lots of habits and tricks that have helped him succeed in his career.
Finally, we reach Roman’s car. As he reaches into his backpack for the keys, I say, “I was impressed that woman remembered you from your college playing days. You must have been a great player for her to remember you after all this time.”
Roman opens and closes his mouth, but in the end, he remains silent while stuffing our snacks and drinks into his pack. As he does that, I get situated into the passenger seat of his car, and after a moment, Roman slides into the driver’s seat and silently pulls the car onto the road.
I can tell Roman’s feeling humble about his playing days.
Which means I should let it go. But I can’t seem to stop myself from probing further.
“Did you do something particularly memorable on the field in college?” It’s either that or the woman in the market recognized Roman solely based on his highly memorable face.
Given how gorgeous Roman is, I don’t think option number two is a stretch.
“What’s up, Roman? Come on. After everything I’ve been through, I can’t handle any more secrets. ”
Roman inhales a deep breath. “I didn’t ask her why she said I’m her favorite player. I have no idea why she said that.” That’s all I’m going to get apparently, much to my chagrin. He’s stopped talking.
Over the years with Brandon, I admit I sometimes fantasized what it’d be like to be in a relationship with a classic “strong, silent type,” instead of with a chatty guy who always had something to say on every topic.
Well, now that I’m sitting next to one, I can honestly report: As sexy and mysterious as the type might be, they’re also a tad bit frustrating.