Such a shame.
Such a good guy.
I turn when he yawns to find him watching me—of course he is; there’s nothing else in here to look at, and I’m the foreign object in the room.
“Roman?” I move back toward the bed.
“What?”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“How personal are we talking?”
“On a scale of one to ten? I would say an eight.”
He mulls this over before nodding. “Okay.”
My blonde hair fans out on his pillow as I stare up at the ceiling, pulling the blankets up to my chin. “Have you ever dated anyone? Or had a girlfriend?”
He looks at me, surprised. “That’s it? I thought you would ask me something more invasive, like a sex question or something.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Ha, you didn’t disappoint me.” He pauses. “I sort of dated someone freshman year, briefly. If you think I’m awkward, she was twenty times worse.”
“I don’t think you’re awkward at all.” Not in the least; I find his manner to be charming and approachable. He is goofy and adorable and says what’s on his mind in a way that is quiet yet forthright.
The little bits of alcohol I consumed tonight warm my belly.
Reaching forward, I lay my hand on Roman’s. His palm is lying flat on the bed, a gentle indent on the mattress as he looks over at me.
“Feels that way sometimes. I often worry I spend too much time on schoolwork and not enough time interacting—I think maybe my mom was right about that.”
“Why, does she harp on that?”
“Yeah. They want me to be successful, but they also talk about balance.” His thumb slowly begins stroking the underside of my palm as he speaks.
“You don’t think you have good balance?”
“I stayed in tonight because I was fixated on the engineering project when I could have been out with my friends—I’d call that shitty work-life balance.”
True. “The good news is, there is always room for improvement, and you wound up coming out anyway!” Silver lining.
“But I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t needed me.”
Also true. “I did need you.” Moreover, “I wanted you there to begin with.”
“You did? Why didn’t you say so?”
I kind of did, he just didn’t pay attention to my begging. I shrug, though I’m in a sleep position. “Because you were set on staying home. It’s not my place to peer-pressure you into doing what you clearly don’t want to do. Besides, not everyone likes parties, and I just figured you were one of those people. You were miserable that night we met three years ago.”
“That’s a valid assessment.”
Valid assessment.
I giggle at his formality, biting down on my bottom lip.
He’s so adorably intelligent.
Our hands are entwined now and I don’t know how they got that way, but his fingers are laced with mine, which causes my heart to beat wildly inside my chest. It wasn’t beating this wildly when I kissed him, but I can feel every pulse. Every rhythm.
It feels like we are too far apart—on an island—not that I would dare move any closer; I don’t want to crowd him or make him uncomfortable or put the moves on him in any way. I did that already, and look where it got us.
“I should turn the lights off so we can sleep,” he finally murmurs, rolling back toward the door. His long arm stretches as far as it can go and flicks off the switch, leaving us in the dark.
Surprisingly, he relocates my hand and grips it the way he was doing before.
I shiver.
“Are you cold?”
Kind of, but not really. But I’m not about to tell him that. Instead I say, “Yes, just a little bit. I probably should’ve put on pants and also: not gone outside.”
Really, I could use a snuggle.
“If you wanna get closer so you can get warmed up, you can. Body heat is nature’s defense.”
I need no further invitation.
“You can’t argue with science.” I laugh as I move closer to him on the bed, rolling into his open arms, spooning my backside into his front.
Don’t wiggle your ass in his junk, don’t wiggle your ass in his junk…
Easier said than done; I’m a natural flirt. Plus, I like Roman as a human being and as a friend. He’s handsome and adorable and who could resist that combination?
“I’m not sure where to put my hands.” He laughs softly into my ear after a time, sending more shivers down my spine.
“You can put them around me—I won’t bite.” It’s been ages since I’ve spooned or been spooned. Rome’s arms tentatively move from wherever he was hiding them to my arm, big palm on my bicep.
It’s nice.
So nice.
Without trying to be too obvious, I scooch back, pressing my backside closer to his pelvis, our height difference when we’re standing creating the perfect partnership while we’re horizontal.
We fit just right.
Roman must have showered at some point before coming to my rescue tonight because he smells divine.