8. Lavinia #2
Roman groans quietly, resting his head on my shoulder. “Because I can’t stand the idea of you with another man, Lavinia. I think of another man taking you out on dates, touching you, kissing you, and it makes me want to commit several crimes.”
My blood fizzles like soda. “See, that wasn’t hard, was it?”
“It was like pulling teeth.” I can hear the cheekiness behind his words.
“What can I get you, hon?” The woman behind the counter asks.
I step up, ordering one of everything. It’s a lot of baked goods and they will have to go with us to family dinner tomorrow night. Roman is already pulling out his wallet and paying for everything before I can get my card out. He also grabs the bag, and I lead us back out onto the street.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to pay.”
“You deserve to enjoy your victory.”
I am enjoying my victory because it took us eight months to get here. At the same time, it’s not like this can go anywhere. Roman is my brother’s teammate and the one thing you never do is date your teammates' siblings. If something goes wrong, it will fuck up the whole team dynamic.
“If you want to be left alone, you shouldn’t have shown up to my date with Be?—”
“I don’t need to hear his name again,” Roman cuts me off. “You’re not going on that second date, are you?”
I shrug. “I haven’t decided yet. He does have a lot of things going for him, and he did ask for a second chance.”
Roman’s eyes flare, his jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth.
“Come on, Blossom, you don’t want to go on a second date with him,” Roman says, his voice deceptively soft. He steps closer until we’re toe to toe. “He doesn’t make your heart beat faster or make your skin flush. He doesn’t make you question whether it’s a good idea to be with him.”
My heart races inside my chest. “Again, you met him for two seconds. You don’t know what happened between us before you showed up.”
His eyes darken. “Tell me he didn’t touch you.”
“Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t.”
“Lavinia,” he growls.
I smile up at him sweetly, reaching out to take the brown bag which holds my baked goods.
“You really need to work on controlling your anger.” The pedestrian signal light is green, and I’m crossing the street, Roman like a looming shadow behind me. When we’re on the sidewalk, he comes to walk next to me on the side of the main road.
“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Roman demands. “All I am asking is that you don’t date anyone. How’s that unreasonable?”
I can’t stop myself from laughing. “You expect me to stay single and alone while you figure out your shit and that doesn’t seem unreasonable to you?”
“What’s there to figure out? I want you.”
My heart flutters like a caged bird, but I keep a tight hold on the door of it’s cage. “Is that why you haven’t spoken a word to me in eight months?”
“We talk every day,” he defends.
“We text every day, there’s a difference.”
“I don’t see a difference,” Roman says.
“That’s because you’re a man. You don’t have what it takes to examine a situation from every angle.”
Hence why I needed all the baked goods because if Jules and I are going to stay up half the night examining this situation, we’re going to need sustenance.
“So, you’re punishing me?”
I look up at him and find him already staring at me. There’s something about the weight of his eyes on me that causes me to feel like gravity is a myth. “If it feels like a punishment, maybe you need to ask yourself why.”
“Let me at least order us a ride back to your apartment,” he says.
“No, you’re a strange man, I don’t want you to know where I live.”
“The ride share driver is also a strange person,” he counters.
“I like to live life on the edge.”
Roman raises an eyebrow, which tells me he knows I definitely don’t like to live life on the edge. I like to live it pretty fucking far from the edge, so far, I don’t even know where the edge is. The only time I was on the edge was when I was playing hockey.
We walk two blocks in silence before Roman turns to me. “Are you going out with him?”
“Oh my god, Roman! Hold my bags, I’m going to text him right now and schedule something,” I say.
Roman holds up both hands in surrender. “Fine, I won’t say anything. Just that I laid myself bare for you and you ignored it completely.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s what you call laying yourself bare? You want me. Boo-fucking-hoo. I figured that out on my wedding day when you asked to kiss me.”
“So, this is punishment,” he whispers.
“Yes, Roman, I spend my days thinking about ways to punish you.”
I stop walking, arching my foot to alleviate the pain. If I knew I was going to end up walking, I would have worn more comfortable heels. These are digging into the heel of my foot, and my toes are squished. I’m going to have blisters tomorrow for sure.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m swept off my feet and into Roman’s arms. I cry out, grabbing his shoulders as he bridal carries me.
“What are you doing?” I demand, my voice sounding close to a screech.
“Your feet hurt and if you insist on not getting a ride share, then I’ll carry you home,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
He looks down at me, one corner of his mouth lifting up into the most devastating smile, and I know he thinks he knocked it out the park with this move. He’s incredibly proud of himself. I twist my mouth, wrinkling my nose as I try not to smile at this ridiculous maneuver.
“You’re unhinged!”
“That may be, but at least your feet won’t ache tomorrow. I’m thinking about your feet.”
“I should have guessed you have a foot fetish,” I grumble.
His shoulders are solid under me, and I’m not a stranger to athletes or strong shoulders, but this display of strength still makes my insides gooey. I hold strong though, not letting him see how he's affecting me. People give us strange looks as we walk past them.
“I have a you fetish,” Roman says.
I must be crazy because I almost find that charming.
“Are you going to carry me all the way home? All four blocks?”
“I can carry you anywhere you want to go for as long as you need me to carry you.”
My toes practically curl in my shoes.
“People are looking at us,” I remind him.
He grins at me. “We make a hot couple, Blossom. People are going to look regardless.”
“You should have told me you were this humble before,” I quip. “I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time.”
In response, he pulls me in harder against him, his fingers digging deeper into my skin. Roman carries me all the way, not even breaking a sweat. By the time we get to my building, I’ve gotten used to being carried around.
“You can put me down now,” I say.
Frank, the doorman, opens the door for us and I’m pretty sure I see his lips twitch under his mustache.
“Good evening, Ms. Callahan,” he says.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I call back to him as Roman carries me to the elevators. “Seriously, you can put me down now.”
The elevator opens and Roman steps in, finally lowering me to my feet. He keeps an arm wrapped around me to keep me steady as blood flows back into my legs. His body is hard against mine, but he yields for me as I lean into him.
“Thank you for bringing me home,” I say, my voice low.
“You don’t have to thank me, Lavinia,” he says. “You only have to admit that you know I’m right.”
“I can’t admit what I don’t know.”
I lean back and press the button for my floor. Roman keeps his arm around me and there’s this little smile on his face that I can’t quite figure out.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?” I ask.
“Talking to you is always the best part of my day.”
Ugh, I hate him for doing this to me. It’s really not fair that he can show up and be perfect. Okay, so he’s not perfect, but he’s pretty darn close to it and that bugs me because I want peace and there can be no peace with a man like him.
“Don’t try to flatter me, I’m not going to change my mind.”
I exit the elevator when it stops on my floor and before I can even reach for my key, Jules is already opening the door, her head poking out.
She’s already in pyjamas, pink with ice cream cones all over them, and her hair is piled high on her head.
She looks me over before her eyes move to Roman, who’s followed me off the elevator.
“I was worried,” Jules says.
“About Plaque Guy? I don’t blame you,” Roman says.
“I have a stalker now,” I tell her.
Jules’s blue eyes look Roman up and down, her mouth twisting to the side as she carefully analyzes him. “He can be taller, but otherwise he’s not bad. Mazel tov.”
“I’m 6’4”,” Roman protests.
Jules and I laugh. “Unless you’re tall enough to qualify for the NBA, it doesn’t count.”
Roman looks at us like we’re crazy. “I am tall enough to qualify for the NBA. The fact that I can’t play basketball is another matter.”
Jules holds up a finger. “But you’ll be on the shorter end of NBA players and even I know that. So, technically, you can be taller.”
The look on his face is priceless. Like he’s not really sure what’s happening and maybe he doesn’t want to know because it’s going to scare him.
“I better go,” he says. He surprises me by leaning forward and placing a kiss on my cheek. His lips are soft, putting the barest hint of pressure. I inhale, my lungs filling with the warm, woodsy scent of his cologne. “Talk to you later, Blossom.”
Jules reaches for my arm as we watch Roman walk towards the elevator. When he turns back to look at me, Jules squeezes my arm, making a quiet noise in the back of her throat. He smirks knowingly before disappearing into the elevator.