Roman. “I thought you were a fighter, but maybe I was wrong.”
His reverse psychology kick-starts my anger, and I detonate.
I don’t know how many times I hit that bag, envisioning all the atrocities that led me here. Tears blind my vision, but I work on impulse and let my bottled-up anger lead me. I wonder how often I have to hit the bag before I feel normal again?
Sweat coats my skin. I’m breathless, and my arms ache, but I continue punching, screaming as I deliver each blow. I don’t care that Roman is here, witnessing my meltdown, because didn’t I do the same to him? He knows what it feels like to be behind the bag because he’s carrying a secret so great, he needs to release it with sheer ferocity, too.
The injustices are no longer sitting so heavily on my chest, and even though I am gasping for breath, I feel like I can breathe. With one last punch, I let go of the regret that led me here and weep in relief. My arms and legs collapse, and I tumble to the ground, exhausted and on the verge of hysteria.
Roman immediately falls to his knees, brushing the hair from my sticky brow. He searches my face, scanning every inch to ensure I didn’t break. He’s become my anchor, my tether to this place, and I instantly take in air again.
I meet his eyes, those blue depths dragging me under and drowning me in a welcome abyss. We stare at one another, unguarded and raw. The walls he’s erected so resolutely around himself unexpectedly come down, and I gasp. A fervent inferno engulfs his irises and burns me from head to toe.
Neither of us dares to say a word. The air is crackling, and I struggle to breathe. Heavy exhalations leave him before he wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. The movement is absolutely intoxicating, and I let out a small whimper. My whimper is matched with a low hum, and it takes me a second to realize the sound is coming from Roman.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s inching forward, his hand pressed to my cheek, using the touch as guidance to draw my face to his. All thoughts of bottling his perfume are put on hold when his lips are a hairsbreadth away from touching mine.
“Roman…” My lips are trembling, the anticipation soaring through me.
“Tell me this is a bad idea,” he whispers, his eyes dropping to my mouth.
“This is bad…” But I falter, unable to continue.
This is a bad idea for so many reasons, but none of them seem to matter. The only thing that matters is closing this distance between us and forgetting the world exists.
I close my eyes, charged and ready for him, but I feel nothing. The room suddenly fills with a beeping, tearing through my bubble and bringing home the reality of what I was about to do.
Slowly opening my eyes, I see the regret marring Roman. I avert my eyes, embarrassed. “Saved by the bell,” I say softly.
“Lola…” I don’t want to hear what he has to say because I don’t know whether that regret is there because we were interrupted, or because of what we were about to do. The buzzing continues, and with a sigh, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his pager.
It takes a second, but when he sees who it is, his face turns to stone. His impenetrable mask sends a chill through me. “Roman?” My voice is small, afraid.
“I—” He pauses, his mouth parted as he seems to search for the right words. Roman is never at a loss for words. I wrap my arms around my body, suddenly chilled. “I have to go,” he finally says, composing himself.
Before I can ask if everything is okay, he places his palm on my cheek. Searching my face, he beseeches, “Stay here. Promise me.”
“What happened?”
“Lola, promise me,” he begs, dipping low and pinning me with his stare.
But I can’t. I can see it in his eyes. This heartbreak is close to home. My chest begins to ache, and I rub over it, hoping to stop my heart from bleeding from its cage. But nothing can stop that ache.
My feet act before my brain can draw near, and I’m running toward the door, my instinct leading me down the hall. Roman calls my name out behind me, but there’s no stopping me. I’m running on pure adrenaline, new and old, as my sneakers