6. Lavinia
SIX
LAVINIA
This is not a big deal. It’s really, really not.
So, what if I have a crush? Crushes don’t mean anything.
Senior year of college, I had a crush on a barista because he would always create a foam heart on my drinks.
I imagined us having a tremulous relationship because he was an artist who needed to feel the pain and I wanted to succeed in the world of hockey.
We would have been on again and off again for years before I realized that being with him was too painful and he would chase me down in the rain and tell me nothing is more important than me.
See? Totally normal. Having a crush is no big deal.
So, what if I have a crush on Roman? Nobody has to know because it’ll go away on its own.
The quick tapping of the keyboard is the only sound in the room as I lift up my coffee cup and take a sip. I’m sitting in my best friend’s giant reading chair, my e-reader resting on my thigh while Jules is quickly typing away on her laptop.
She’s in the zone and I’m trying to control the sound of my breathing.
Jules is on deadline with her publisher, and she has the attention span of a goldfish.
If I shift, she’s going to get distracted and then she’s not going to get back to writing for weeks.
She’s been like this since kindergarten, when we first met.
The gravity timer on her desk displays she still has twenty-nine minutes left in this writing session.
Instead of hanging out elsewhere in the apartment, I’m here. I want to make sure she’s writing and not getting distracted by her phone.
There’s another reason I’m in here and that’s to record our next podcast episode when she’s done.
It’s definitely not because if I’m left to my own thoughts, I’ll start thinking about Roman. And how he’s playing for the Titans. And living in my city. And that we have a text thread full of messages.
I need to remember that until last night, he hasn’t said a word to me in person since he came here.
I’m often at home games, stopping by the dressing room to see Drew before the game and Roman acts like I don’t even exist. Granted, I haven’t gone out of my way to talk to him either.
I pick up my phone slowly and unlock it, going to my photos and scrolling up to the ones of Roman and me kissing. Two days after my wedding day, I got a text from an unknown number with the photos. There was no message, but I knew they were from Roman.
They make my body heat. Roman’s hand on my neck, our tongues tangled together, bodies pressed against each other.
“Stop looking at those photos!”
Startled, I drop the phone, and it scatters to the floor.
“I wasn’t looking at the photos!” My voice is squeaky and defensive.
Jules turns in her chair, elbows resting on the armrest and fingers laced together. She’s still in her pyjamas, her messy blonde hair pulled into an even messier bun. She calls this her glamorous author look.
“Funny, I didn’t say which photos.”
I groan, falling back onto the chair and pulling the blanket over my face.
“I’m pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic. You have a crush. Although, why you want to crush on a real man when fictional men are so much better is something I don’t understand.”
I lower the blanket and look at Jules.
“I like looking at pictures of us kissing.”
Jules rolls over to me on her chair and picks up my phone, unlocking it. She knows the password and I have no secrets from her. She’ll never violate my privacy, so I have no fear of her having my password and going through my phone or looking at pictures of Roman and me kissing.
“A kiss you admitted yourself was better than any you had with your ex,” she says, handing me my phone.
I deliberately don’t look at it and shove it between the cushions of the chair.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Jules laughs and rolls back to her desk. Her books are stacked on the three bookshelves around the room. Our teachers used to think we made an odd pair. I was the sports girl, and Jules was the book girl.
Come on, with a name like Lavinia Callahan, I had to play hockey, or my brother would have carried on my father’s hockey legacy by himself. With a name like Juliet Love, Jules had to write romance novels. She has the most romance novel name to ever exist. Not that she writes under her real name.
“Wait, do you think we should save this conversation for the podcast?” She glances at me over her shoulder.
A year ago, we started a podcast for the fun of it and it has gained close to a hundred thousand followers since and climbing every day. Apparently, people want to listen to a sports girl and a book girl talk about nothing and everything.
“I thought we said we aren’t going to talk about our love lives on the podcast,” I remind her.
“Babe, this isn’t your love life. This is the lack of one.”
“So, we’re going to be two girls talking about the lack of love in our lives?”
Jules picks up her tumbler and takes a sip before turning the chair to face me again.
“Yeah, we can use a depressing episode, and everyone can relate to having a crush.”
“I don’t want to talk about Roman,” I say. Especially because he’s mentioned in our endless texts that he listens to the podcast. I don’t want him to know I’m thinking about him when I clearly have the upper hand right now. It’s childish, I’m aware.
He can’t talk to me in person after months of just texting and act like everything is okay.
“It doesn’t have to be about Roman. It can be about dating.”
“What do we know about dating, Jules? You don’t date and I’ve picked a series of losers.”
The last thing I want to talk about on the podcast is my exes.
Josh tried calling and texting me after the wedding and I didn’t answer a single call or text.
I have nothing to say to him, and I don’t care to ask why he couldn’t realize he didn’t want to get married before the actual wedding day.
I also told my family not to answer his calls and he wouldn’t have dared call Jules.
Jules raises her hand, her blue eyes excited. “We can talk about how much we suck at dating.”
“That feels like it’s going to lead to us getting creepy messages from dudes, but sure, yeah, let’s do it.”
“Okay, but I really need to finish today’s word count,” she says.
She turns back, rolling her chair closer to her desk as she starts typing. I pick up my e-reader again, going back to the book I was reading, but I already know I won’t be able to pay attention to a single word.
My phone is burning a hole in the cushions, and I want nothing more than to look at those pictures again or re-read all my messages with Roman like a lovesick teenager.
I lower my e-reader again.
“Did I tell you he talked to me?”
The clacking of her keyboard stops, and Jules turns slowly, dramatically.
“Pardon?”
I take a sip of water, nodding. “Yeah, last night. After the game.”
Jules rushes across the room to me, jumping on the chair with me. There’s plenty of space on it.
“And you’re telling me this now? Lavinia Callahan, you know we don’t withhold information in this relationship. What did he say?”
I think back to last night and the annoyance I felt when Roman walked up to me. I’m not even seeing anyone, and I said I might be because I can’t let him think he’s in charge of this relationship.
“Well, it was a lot of flirting, and I don’t think I gave in that much,” I say. “I told him I might be dating Leo, the guy who came to my parents’ house for dinner last month.”
“You haven’t spoken to that guy since dinner.” Jules’s blue eyes are bright with excitement. The only thing missing from this scenario is popcorn.
“I didn’t want him to know that, obviously. Drew and the guys were there so I couldn’t talk to Roman. He said I don’t need anyone else when I have him and I said there’s not enough room for him and his ego.”
Jules hums. “I’m convinced this man wants you, and I am finally satisfied that you haven’t chosen an utter loser.”
“If he wants me, why hasn’t he said so?”
“Maybe he thinks you won’t reciprocate, and he doesn’t want to risk it.”
If that’s true, then I have the same fear.
I’m a relationship kind of girl; I can’t help it.
My parents have the most perfect marriage, and yes, they fight, but they trust each other, they’re loyal, and most importantly, they are still madly in love after all these years.
If I can have even one tenth of that, I’ll be a happy girl.
Whereas, from what I’ve learned, Roman isn’t a relationship guy. Hockey players like to gossip a lot and everything I’ve learned about Roman has been related to his sexual history. I don’t want to be another girl he has sex with and forgets.
“Don’t you think dating him comes with a lot of complications? He’s my ex’s ex-teammate and my brother’s current teammate.”
“He’s also the guy who’s been texting you for months and the one you can’t stop thinking about,” Jules says. “Stop thinking about what it means to other men who you like and want to date.”
She’s not wrong. It’s hard not to worry when one of those men is my brother, though. He’s not a fan of Roman’s and he’s said this on more than one occasion.
There’s no point worrying about a hypothetical situation that will probably never come true. Surely, one or both of us will get tired of texting back and forth or realize we’re better off as friends. The best thing to do right now is forget all about it.
And stop looking at photos of the man I’m trying not to think about.