retort, but I’m done. I push past him, hoping Roman follows. He does.
The guards stop us as we attempt to leave, but I set the record straight. “We were just leaving, but that guy”—I point at the meathead who is glaring at me—“spilled his beer all over me. I think his disorientation has to do with the weed he has stashed in his pockets.”
The mere mention of the drug has the guards forgetting our involvement and focusing their efforts on the real offender. When I reach the bottom step, I see them grilling him as he’s emptying out his pockets.
Roman grabs my hand, and we weave through the masses, ready to leave. He’s deadly quiet the entire time, and I get a sense of irritation lapping at the surface.
“I won’t break, Roman,” I stupidly state, but it only angers him further.
The silence continues as we walk to the parking lot.
He’s breathless as we march to his car, and I wonder if he’s moments away from exploding. I want to ask if he’s okay, but I think I’ll just make things worse. He almost tears the door from its hinges as he opens it for me.
Just when I thought this situation couldn’t get any more horrible, a sudden drop in temperature has the moon hiding for cover behind a sinister looking storm cloud. Peering up into the once clear sky, I see that things are about to turn nasty.
I jump into the Jeep, jarring when Roman slams the door shut behind me. What is his problem?
I watch as he rounds the hood, fisting both hands through his snarled hair. His bad mood has returned, and just like earlier, I don’t understand why.
The moment he dives into the car, I sink low. His mood swings are giving me whiplash.
I sit quiet, turning my cheek to glance out the window. As the night sky ominously hums with a rumble, the dawdling crowd quicken their steps, sensing the calm before the storm. I have my own tempest to deal with.
Just as I spin to ask Roman once and for all what’s going on, the Jeep clicks over as he turns the key. Furrow lines crinkle low along his brow as he tries to start the car again. Nothing. He grips the wheel with one hand, while vigorously turning the key with the other. After three failed attempts, it’s obvious the car is dead.
“No,” Roman exclaims, striking his fist against the wheel in frustration. “Start, goddamn you.” A crack of thunder batters down from the heavens, adding to the disorder.
I yelp, startled by the brutality of this act of nature.
A storm is brewing outside, but it’s the one inside this car I’m most worried about. The Jeep is forbiddingly silent, and I wonder if the real storm is about to drown us both. “Roman, what the hell is going on?”
He snaps his head my way, his eyes torn. I suddenly regret asking because something is festering within him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”
My heart embarks on a rapid staccato, and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. “Sorry? For what?” He licks his bottom lip, buying time. But it’s time he came clean. “What are you talking about?”
Turning in my seat, I face him, beseeching him to tell me the truth. He throws back his head, blowing out an exasperated sigh. “I have to tell you something.” My pulse spikes, but I remain silent, indicating I’m listening. I’ve been listening this entire time.
His turmoil is palpable, making me all the more nervous.
“Lola, I—”
A downpour of rain suddenly batters down around us, the heavens spilling open and swallowing anyone caught in its way.
The inside of the Jeep echoes with the harsh rain, making it impossible to hear with ease. But I persevere. “What do you have to tell me?” I almost shout to be heard above the downpour. When he shakes his head, I lunge over the console, latching on to his bicep, not caring that my desperation shines. “Tell me.”
He lowers his chin, his jaw clenched as he stares at the floor. Just as I’m about to fist his shirt and draw us nose to nose, he exhales, a sound of complete despair. “Today is my thirtieth birthday, but I have a feeling you already knew that.”
Now I’m the one to lower my face, ashamed. “Yes, I did.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I figured if you wanted to tell me, you would. Sometimes, some things are better left unspoken. We all have secrets, and I guessed