now drenched in his sweat.
We’re worlds different; yet, whenever I look into his eyes, during moments like these, I don’t feel that way. I feel like we understand each other on a level most people don’t. A level beyond my comprehension.
“I’ll see you,” he says suddenly, slicing through our connection. Before I can utter a single word, he turns, and I watch him walk up to his house. He crosses my lawn into his, and when I glance down, my stomach drops.
Oh, no.
I suddenly remember why I was so excited to get home. Why I was dying with laughter, before waving at him, and before he almost trampled me to death.
“Roman! Stop!” I yell after him, but it’s too late. He suddenly stops walking, but it’s not for the reason I think. Slowly, he lifts his foot, and I see the tension build in his shoulders. I feel the atmosphere suddenly change. Hell, I swear I even start to see the storm clouds roll in over our heads.
Roman pivots, glancing at me over his shoulder, with fire in his eyes. When I glance down at his foot that’s still raised, I deflate.
So much for pranking him.
Today at lunch, I thought it’d be hysterical to get back at Roman for Max’s dog shit. I went as far as searching for a local dog park I could go to and steal a dog’s shit. It sounds a lot easier than it actually was. Who knew people were so territorial?
I mean, seriously. It’s shit. Not the elixir to eternal youth.
After being chased and run out of there by a mob of dog lovers, I secured the bag of, you guessed it, fresh dog shit, and dropped it on his lawn. There was a chance he could spot it ahead of time and get rid of it before he ever had the chance to step in it, but I wanted to see what would happen, just in case that didn’t happen. Even if there was only a small five percent chance, I’d be able to get him back.
I wanted the chance to retaliate, before I got blindsided with another prank. I tried to call a truce. The day he was leaving my house, after working on the pipes, I tried to put an end to it all, before things could escalate any further, but he didn’t want any part of it. If there’s anyone to blame here, I mean, it really is him.
“Touché, Olivia.” His voice travels from his lawn to mine, his tone is cold as ice. The fire that was just there in his gaze, not even five minutes ago, has now burned out into a smoking dry ice, burning my flesh upon impact.
I feel like I can’t breathe, as I watch him turn his back on me. He slips off his shoes and disappears inside, without so much as another word.
Well, shit. I can’t catch a break.
For the next few days, I’m wary of Roman, and rightfully so. It feels like I’m constantly peering over my shoulder, waiting for him to pounce. I know it’s coming. There’s no way he’s going to let what I did slide.
There’s just no way.
Shaking off the lingering fears, I focus back on the task at hand. I’m at work, helping Travis and Atticus, another one of the vet techs, with a surgery involving someone’s pet rabbit that was mauled by a dog in the neighborhood. Knowing there’s a family waiting outside this room to hear about their daughter’s animal, only makes me want to work harder.
The rabbit, that we learn is named Darcy, has a few deep puncture wounds, but nothing that is irreparable, if we act fast. It’s the gash on her left axillary, though, that has us all worried. She’s losing a lot of blood, and I’m hoping Travis can live up to his hype and get her stitched up.
We all work in sync with one another throughout the operation. Atticus is in deep with Travis, working to stop the blood flow and stitch up any remaining wounds. I’m off to Travis’s left, handing him tool after tool, twisting the light to his heart’s desire. Kassandra is somewhere in the background with Lucy, prepping Darcy’s release meds.
It’s almost like we’re the dream team in there, each of us holding our own and doing our part in aiding Travis in his quest to heal little Miss Darcy. By the time the anesthesia starts to wear off, and Darcy stirs, Lucy gives me a hand,