18. Lavinia #3
The one with the short black hair leans her hip against the sink. “Girl, the question you have to ask yourself is, would a man care before he dumped you and hit on your best friend or sister?”
“And then you have to ask yourself a follow up question, which is did you enjoy yourself when you got the hickey?” Blue Tint girl says.
“Question two is more important than question one because you should never warp yourself into knots over what a man thinks,” another dark-haired girl adds.
“Yeah, men are only useful as long as you need them to be, and few are nice enough to keep around. Your boy is very hot, but is he nice enough to keep around? Does he give you butterflies?”
“Does he want to give you more than butterflies?”
“Will he put your needs above his own?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” I answer honestly and with conviction. I know Roman said he doesn’t want a relationship, but we can talk about that. He clearly wants to be with me, and I want him so much I daydream about it.
“Then you don’t have to worry about what anyone says,” the dark-haired girl says.
“People are always going to talk shit; that’s literally what people are good for.
Someone will always be jealous of you and what you have or unhappy because you got it before they did.
That shouldn’t stop you from wanting what you love. ”
That’s the most sensible advice I’ve ever received from four drunk girls in a club restroom and they’re not even wrong.
People will talk shit. They talked shit when I started dating Josh as well, but I was kind of numb then so I couldn’t care less.
I spent half our relationship thinking marrying Josh would fix me and the other half questioning my choices.
“Is one of you Lavina?” A girl asks, stepping up to the sink. She glares at us in the mirror suspiciously.
I start to reply when one of the dark-haired girls speaks first. “It’s Lavinia. Put some respect on her name.”
Blue Tint elbows her friend in the side as my eyes widen in surprise. The group gives me weak, guilty smiles.
“Whatever. Your boyfriend is outside wondering if you’re okay.”
When she hears this, Blue Tint girl smiles slowly.
“We didn’t want to deceive you. We were trying to play it cool.
I’m Casey. This is Ellie,” she points at the girl with the short dark hair, “and that’s Elle,” she points at the girl with the long dark hair, “and that’s Rochelle,” she points at the blonde girl who hasn’t said a word. “We’re D1 hockey players.”
“And your biggest fans,” Ellie adds.
“You’re, like, totally our role model,” Elle says.
Warmth spreads from my stomach upwards and I’m not sure what to say.
I always get a little uncomfortable when someone tells me they’re a fan because I immediately think I haven’t done enough to deserve a fandom.
Somehow, winning three Olympic medals isn’t enough.
I despise how inadequate the world makes us feel of our achievements.
“Thank you,” I say. “I really appreciate that.”
“We didn’t like Josh Whitmore,” Rochelle says. “His vibe totally didn’t match yours.”
“Rochelle!” Ellie hisses.
“What? It’s not like she’s still with him.”
They must be at least ten years younger than me and even they could tell that Josh wasn’t the one for me? Maybe Jules is right, and I really do have a knack for picking douchebags. Am I blind to people’s flaws or am I too nice that I can’t see when someone is taking advantage of me?
Is Roman taking advantage of me? What if I’m a game to him? He said that he doesn’t like Josh and he’s not exactly a fan of Drew’s, and I’m the perfect way to get back at them both.
I step out of the restroom, the girls following right behind me, and I come to a stop as soon as I see Roman.
He’s leaning against a wall, his eyes trained on the restroom door, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip. He doesn’t even care that at least three girls are glaring at him, and one is in the middle of telling him that she’s going to call security if he doesn’t leave.
Roman straightens as soon as I come out, his mouth tugging up into a beautiful smile.
My stomach swoops with delight. It’s so hard to believe this man has any malicious intentions towards me.
I’ve known Roman since we were babies and yeah, he liked to push the limit, break the rules, but he was never malicious. He never hurt someone on purpose.
“I thought I would need to send a search party to find you,” he says.
“You gave me a hickey,” I accuse quietly.
“What part of unhinged, obsessive stalker behaviour made you think there’ll be no marks involved?”
The girls giggle behind me and Roman’s eyes shift to them momentarily before moving back to me. “Fans of yours?”
“Literally.”
Roman takes my hand as we leave the hallway. Under the dancing club lights, I take plenty of photos with the girls. They each ask me for a hug, and I oblige. As Rochelle leans in, she whispers, “For the record, his vibe totally matches yours.”
I wave at them as they disappear into the crowd.
“Do you want to go back up to the VIP room?” Roman asks.
I lean against him as I gently sway to the music. Waving down the bartender, I order two shots and down them both in quick succession. I don’t want to go back to the VIP room where my brother will be keeping watch over me. I order two more shots and pass one to Roman.
“We should get tattoos,” I say.
“We will not be getting tattoos,” Roman replies. We clink our glasses together and shoot them back.
“Come on.” I wave at the tattoos on his arm. He seriously can’t object to this idea.
Roman rests a hand on my hip, the touch possessive. “These are works of art. I find the most talented tattoo artists and go on wait lists. None of my tattoos are drunken decisions made in Vegas.”
I trace the compass on his arm and the dragonfly tattooed below it. Roman makes a sound in the back of his throat and I look up at him through my lashes, admiring the poutiness of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, his straight nose.
“Do you know, the most reckless things I’ve ever done in my life have been with you?”
“I’m honored you trust me like that, Blossom.” His hand flexes on my waist and he pulls me closer against him.
“I don’t trust you, not entirely. I’m not sure what you want from me.”
Roman holds my eyes long enough for me to feel like he’s trying to stare straight into my soul. “What if I want you?”
“ Why? I’ve literally had three boyfriends, on three separate occasions, tell me I’m boring and predictable. Honestly, the most interesting thing about me is hockey. I don’t do anything else, other than stay at home and read books.”
I sigh.
“I like doing the podcast and I like posting content, but even that feels like a chore. I’m not interesting. You literally travel the world, speak multiple languages, and you have a gaggle of beautiful women showing up at your games throwing themselves at you.”
I didn’t intend to have a vulnerable word vomit, but that’s where orgasmic bliss and alcohol led me. I can’t be blamed for it, though I’m sure I’ll find ways tomorrow when I’m suffering with regret and a hangover.
Roman blinks down at me, his expression unreadable. Slowly, like I’m a skittish animal he’s trying to capture, Roman wraps his hand around my throat and leaves it there. Letting me feel the weight of it. Waiting for me to react. I swallow and his fingers flex around my throat.
“I don’t know what those weak, pathetic men have told you, and maybe one day I’ll have you tell me when I don’t feel this murderous rage.
You’re right, I have traveled the world, which is why I can safely say that there is only one Lavinia Callahan and no one else even compares.
You’re not boring and you’re sure as fuck not predictable. ”
I rest my hands on his stomach, leaning into him. “And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“Yeah, you are, baby. Just replace those pesky voices inside your head with my voice. Because I can guarantee you’re never going to find a better hype man.”
“I’m tired of being boring and predictable,” I whisper, though I doubt he can hear me. “Let’s go do something fun. We’re in Sin City. Let’s take full advantage.”
“I think I know the place.”
He waits for me to get Jules from the VIP room because I can’t leave my best friend here. Luckily, the hotel is only a block away.
“Where are you going?” Jules asks, when we’re back in the room and I’m changing into a more comfortable pair of shoes.
“I’m not sure, but I also don’t care.”
I hug and wish her good night and she reminds me to keep my phone on me at all times.
Roman takes my hand and I expect him to pull me along, but he doesn’t.
He puts me in front of him, keeping his hand on my waist as he leads me out of the hotel.
The air outside is a little muggy and I breathe in deeply, my ears still ringing from the noise.
Roman keeps one arm around me as he hails down a cab for us.
I feel this spark in the air when I get in the cab with him. Something in the air that feels different, that makes me feel lighter. Like maybe even the universe is trying to tell me that things are about to change.