Beyond The Roses

by Monica James

  His jaw clenches. “Real tough, having a girl fight your battles.” He has to get in the last word as he glares at Roman over my shoulder.

  Roman scoffs. “This girl has more balls than you and I do combined. And just like me, she fights for what’s hers.”

  The wind gets knocked from my sails. I’m his, and he’s mine?

  Even though Roman’s chivalry touches me, the buffoon’s sexist comment offends me. Dropping my arms, I step into his space, not caring that he’s towering over me. “I can kick your ass any day. And for the record, so could he…with his eyes closed…and one arm tied behind his back.”

  People around us snort at my insult, while he’s left standing, speechless, most likely attempting to conjure up a 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 your secret was the reason you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday.” I pull at a loose thread on my shorts, worried I’ve blown it.

  But I haven’t.

  “This has been the best birthday I’ve had in, well…in a very long time.” Lifting my gaze, I wonder why he’s confessing this with such sorrow. He explains. “I don’t celebrate my birthday. Ever.”

  “Why?”

  This is it. As the thunder and the rain pummel around us, Roman bares his soul.

  “I don’t celebrate my birthday because…remember how I told you I…lost someone?” I nod, barely breathing. “Well…” Each pause is followed by a shallow breath, giving him the strength to continue. “That person was…” He places the heel of his hand against the wheel; a symbolic gesture that he’s wishing someone would meet him halfway. “That person was…my sister. My twin sister.”

  My heart fills with grief.

  “How can I celebrate my birthday when it’s a reminder of all I’ve lost? She was my other half, and celebrating a day which honors us both seems a little heartless when she’s not here to celebrate it with me.”

  I don’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “I am so sorry for my inexcusable behavior today. I’ve been so angry with myself because being with you today, yesterday, since we met, has awoken something in me, something I thought long dead. Guilt overwhelms me every time I’m with you because you make me…happy.”

  I want to say so many things, but where do I start?

  “I don’t understand what I feel for you. It doesn’t make any sense. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  He finally meets my eyes, the deep blue depths swirling with fear and confusion. Running a hand through his hair, he implores me to speak.

  “Eleanor?”

  “What?” Roman gasps, his fingers pausing mid-route.

  “Your sister, her name was Eleanor?” My voice is no match for the punishing sounds outside, but he hears me, loud and clear.

  “How?” Now he’s the one left speechless.

  I shuffle in my seat, embarrassed to be confessing what I saw. “Before I made a complete fool of myself, I watched you in the fitness center. I saw her name tattooed on you.”

  “What else did you see?” He’s quick to ask, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

  “Nothing. What else was there for me to see?” I ask, puzzled.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just…” He pauses as I wet my dry lips. “Yes, Eleanor was my sister.” His voice breaks.

  So many thoughts smash into me, but at the forefront are June’s words. “He wants to save the world.”

  I didn’t understand what she meant, but now I do.

  “That’s why you’re a doctor? You want to save people because you couldn’t save Eleanor,” I declare, winded by my revelation. I don’t know when he lost his sister, but I think it was long ago, long enough to shape him into the man he is today.

  He frowns. “Yes, in part, that’s the reason.”
>
  In part? There’s more. What more could there be?

  So many thoughts are rattling inside my head, but suddenly, a thought so heinous overrides any other. “Is that why you want to save me? Because you see her in me?” My stomach fills with dread, threatening to overfill and spill from the seams.

  Is he helping me out of sympathy for his dead sister? Maybe what he feels for me is guilt, and when he looks at me, he sees a chance to make amends for his sister’s death.

  I suddenly can’t breathe.

  “Roman?” I press. Each silent second is a silent scream.

  He turns his cheek, staring at the window. Is his silence all the answer I need?

  Every single insecurity I’ve ever had rolls over me, and I feel a fool for thinking Roman felt something for me. His kindness was because he cared, just not in the way I thought, the way I wanted him to. He said he doesn’t understand what he feels for me. Maybe what we share is a closeness, stirred by the love he has for his sister.

  I suddenly can’t breathe.

  Without a second thought, I yank open the door, uncaring that the heavens are pouring down around me. The heavy rain pounds against my skin, but it feels good to experience something other than this ache in my chest.

  Unsure where I’m going, I wrap my arms around my middle, wishing I could wring out this regret in my belly. I’m beyond embarrassed and angry for fabricating something that clearly wasn’t there. I’m not out here to be melodramatic. I just need space because everything is so muddled.

  “Lola!” Roman shouts to be heard over the storm, but I don’t turn. I simply stand still and let the hot tears score my cheeks. “Please get inside the car. I’m sorry.” But that’s the thing; he has nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry for ever believing in fairy tales.

  I step forward, lowering my chin and allowing the rain to batter against me. I’ve never felt this way before. This ache, this heaviness in my heart...is this what a broken heart feels like? I can’t stand it, nor can I stand here any longer. I’ve embarrassed myself long enough.

  Before I can act, though, I feel Roman before he speaks. The warmth from this body instantly thaws out my chill, but I scold myself. This needs to stop.

  “Lola…” His breath bathes the back of my neck, indicating he’s standing close. “Please, turn around and look at me.”

  The desperation in his voice has me hesitating for a mere second, but that second feels like a lifetime. I would rather cut off my own arm than hear him so miserable ever again. I turn slowly, my chin still downturned, unable to face him.

  With the gentlest of touches, Roman places a quivering finger beneath my chin, coaxing me to meet his eyes. When I do, a gasp escapes me because the look reflected in those depths takes my breath away.

  Heavy raindrops coat his cheeks, but I’m mesmerized by a single one as it trickles down his temple, over his chiseled cheek, and into his parted, full lips. An urge to lick that raindrop overcomes me, and I grapple with the momentous revelation of wanting to act on that desire.

  Roman watches me watching him, and a low hum of approval fills the space between us. The finger under my chin suddenly strokes over my jaw before leaving a hot trail in its wake as he skims it over my trembling bottom lip.

  He watches with fire behind his eyes as his finger skates along my ripened flesh. “I’m helping to save you because…you’re someone worth saving.” The rain pelts down, and we’re both soaking wet, but nothing has been more perfect than it is right now.

  Roman’s confession leaves me speechless, and I part my lips, wanting to say something, but what would I say? We’re caught in a deadlock, both knowing that what happens next has the potency to explode.

  Roman doesn’t let me speak. He runs his finger along my bottom lip one last time, the electricity thrumming through his touch, awakening a molten verve within. I’m terrified but excited all in the same breath, and that breath is stolen from me as Roman swoops forward and replaces his touch with his lips.

  At first, I pause, my mind needing a moment to process this miracle as real. This isn’t an event my amorous brain conjured up; this is really happening. The softness of his lips, the tenderness of his touch is actually happening, and it’s happening to me.

  With that as my driver, I open my mouth and allow my body to take over. I surrender, giving all I am to Roman because I am his. And take he does. He wraps his arms around my middle and kisses me with such passion, I see stars. He’s everywhere, his gentle touch setting every part of me on fire.

  He’s dominating my mouth, my body, his tongue cautiously but assertively demanding permission, which I grant as I open myself up to him and get lost in the whirlwind that is Roman Archibald.

  He places his palm to my cheek, angling my face so he can govern me and deepen the kiss. Our tongues meet, the warm wetness sending every nerve ending into overdrive. He tightens his hold around my waist, pulling me into him so we’re pressed chest to chest. I can feel his heart beating frantically, a frenetic butterfly flapping its wings, demanding to break free from its cage.

  He nips my bottom lip, eliciting a moan from me, but it does something to us both, and Roman lets down his guard. He swiftly walks me backward, slamming me up against the hood, our lips never missing a beat. I stand on tippy toes, unable to get enough of him, needing to touch and taste every part of him.

  With sheer strength, he lifts me up and my ass crashes onto the hood as he places me on it, sensing my dilemma. The height difference is no longer an issue, and I wrap my arms around his neck, never intending to let go.

  We kiss for minutes, Roman moaning into my mouth as he cups the side of my neck, controlling the speed, depth, and passion of our kiss. I prop my feet on the bumper, needing to anchor myself before I melt. This action opens me up to Roman, who nestles between my legs and draws me forward so I slide down the metal. I hook my legs around him, relishing in the connection. I taste him blended with raindrops—it’s a flavor I will never forget.

  This is what I envisioned our first kiss to be like. I see the proverbial stars and feel the earth move beneath me with each touch, caress, and the unbelievable synchronicity of our bodies. For each push, I pull, needing him just as much as he needs me.

  As I toy with the wet strands of hair curling at the nape of his neck, he moans into my mouth before pulling away slowly. I instantly pout, missing our connection far more than I care to admit. He gently draws my bottom lip into his mouth one last time. My eyes roll into the back of my head.

  Roman’s lips are red and plump, a badge showcasing to the world what we just did, and just how this all started, he runs his pointer along my bottom lip. But this time, a feral look of possession surrounds us both. Raindrops stick to his long lashes as his eyes search every corner of my face.

  “Was that your first kiss?”

  I know what he means. He’s asking if that was my first kiss since I got sick.

  I nod, although any kiss before this one is long forgotten.

  He closes the distance between us and kisses me again. His lips set me on fire, and as he circles the seam of my mouth with his tongue, I’m certain I’ve combusted.

  The rain pays no heed to us because kissing in a storm is reflective of how I feel. I claw at Roman’s wet shirt, tug at the slippery strands of his hair, but most of all, I press my heart against his, obsessed with the beating because that epicenter makes Roman, Roman, and it’s what I love most about him.

  I’ve finally uncovered the sheath around his heart, and now that I’ve seen it, I never want to let go.

  After our frenzied, rain-soaked kisses last night, Roman called AAA and we waited, both silent, digesting what just occurred. I fell asleep during my deep meditation, because when I woke, I was in a strange bed, but I wasn’t alone. Roman was snoring softly beside me. Looking around, I saw he had checked us in at a hotel. He clearly was too exhausted to drive home.

  I don’t know if this changes anything for him, but it sure as hell changes everythin
g for me.

  I woke this morning with rumpled clothes and snarled hair, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

  Last night really happened. It was Roman’s thirtieth birthday, and we went to the baseball game and had an incredibly good time. Roman dropped a huge bombshell he had a twin sister, and she’s dead. I had a mini freak-out, but Roman put my mind at ease by…kissing me.

  My fingers involuntarily rise, brushing over my lips. I can still feel and taste him. I’ll never forget just how good he felt.

  I can’t help but wonder what happens now. I want to explore more, everything he and life has to offer. I suddenly am so eager to see the trials through because if I survive, is Roman my prize? I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. That smile only grows as Roman interlaces our fingers.

  As we’re driving back to Strawberry Fields, I look over my schedule and see that I have a full day of activities ahead. We pull into the parking lot, Roman parking the car and turning off the engine. However, he doesn’t jump out right away. He sits, gazing out the windshield.

  It appears we’re both in a meditative state.

  He turns and smiles, stroking the backs of his fingertips down my cheek. My skin breaks out into tiny goose bumps, my body responding to his touch without pause. Pretending will be difficult, because I’m not naïve. I know we can’t exactly walk around in public, hand in hand.

  The car suddenly fills with the same crackling tension that bounced between us last night. I hold my breath and count to three. I continue counting when Roman runs his finger over my chin and down the slope of my neck. He glides back up, circling over my racing pulse. I can taste his desire. I’m sure he can feel mine.

  “I really want to kiss you,” he hoarsely confesses, his eyes focused on my mouth.

  “I really want you to kiss me.”

  A smirk tugs at his sinful mouth. I have to look away before I combust.

  Reaching for the handle, I’m first to exit as I jump from the Jeep, thankful for the fresh air. Roman’s chuckles catch the breeze as he follows.

  We walk toward the back staircase, my fingers itching to reach out and touch him, but I don’t. As we walk up the stairs, I’m surprised that Roman is a touch breathless beside me. Once we reach the top, he exhales.