Travis. He means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. Why is that so hard for you to understand? Why is it so hard for you to get that I’m just not interested?”
My voice echoes around the quiet neighborhood, and when I realize just how loud I was yelling, heat rises to my cheeks. We both freeze. My stomach twists, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, my eyes growing wide with surprise.
A sharp bark drags my attention away from Travis toward to the house next door, and my stomach bottoms out, all the color draining from my face, when I see Roman standing there with Max on a leash. His shoulders are stiff. His face is a blank mask, void of any expression, but his eyes, God, his eyes break me. Even from here, I can see the betrayal there. I don’t even have to wonder if he heard what I said. It’s obvious he did.
And I didn’t mean it. Not one bit. It all came out wrong.
“You need to go,” I say to Travis, my voice trembling with fear. Not fear of him, but fear that I’ve made a tremendous mistake with Roman.
Without a word, Travis sneers down at me, stomping off my yard. He gets into his truck and skids off. The moment his taillights are gone, I take off toward Roman and his house, but he’s already heading up his porch toward the front door. “Rome, wait! Please!” I yell after him.
He pauses at the door, and I skid to a halt a few feet away, trying to catch my breath. “I didn’t mean what I said back there. I’ve just been dealing with a lot these past few days, and Travis…well, he’s been hounding me about you, about my relationship with him.” His nostrils flare at that, and my eyes widen. “No! That’s not what I meant either. There is no relationship between him and me. He just…God, this is coming out so wrong. I didn’t mean any of it, Roman. I swear.”
He scoffs, scraping his hand along his angular jawline. “Didn’t take you for the type, Olivia.”
“What type?” I whisper, fear settling into the marrow of my bones.
“The type to spread her legs for anyone.”
Pain lances through my chest.
A stabbing sensation pierces my heart.
My bottom lip trembles, and tears burn the backs of my eyes. “It’s not like that, I swear,” I choke out. “I didn’t even know you were here. I didn’t hear you walk up.”
His brows jump, and a cold smile spreads across his face along with his humorless laugh. “Oh, and that somehow makes it better?”
“No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant. I do care about you, Roman. You’re the first guy I’ve felt anything for since my last relationship.”
“Well, don’t. I don’t care about you, and that won’t change anytime soon.”
With those harsh words, he pulls Max inside, slamming the door behind him. My heart shatters, the first tears streaking down my cheeks.
What in the hell have I done?
“It’s You”—Ali Gatie
When my alarm goes off the next morning, I roll onto my side and groan into my pillow. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, hating myself for last night and how things were left between Roman and me. I don’t even care that I’ll have to deal with the fallout with Travis. All I care about is Roman and how much my words obviously hurt him.
Errr—maybe hurt isn’t the correct word. I never thought a man like Roman could feel anything at all.
Obviously, I was wrong.
As I get ready for work, I decide to give my parents a call. I’ve put it off long enough, but I need to eventually tell them about the break-in. I’ll, of course, need to speak with them separately. My time talking with my mother will be about what’s happening—or more accurately, not happening—with Roman. Now, the conversation with my father won’t necessarily involve information about my neighbor, but he is my moral compass, and he’ll help me dig myself out of this mess, using his psychoanalyzing ways.
There are some benefits to having a sex therapist and psychologist as parents. Not many, but definitely some.
“Olivia, sweetheart! I was just thinking about you,” my mom sing-songs. I wince when I realize her happy-go-lucky attitude is going to be diminished, when she finds out why I’m calling.
“Hey, Mom.” I sigh. “I was actually calling because…” I pause, tasting the words on my tongue, and I find that I don’t like