Reckless Surrender

by R. C. Martin

  I try and convince Roman that we should go out and celebrate but he turns me down. No matter what I suggest, he insists that he just wants to go home, take a shower, and chill out. Apparently, he’s had a long day. I suppose, considering the emotional roller coaster that we just rode over the last hour, I can’t blame him. In the end, I get him to settle on a compromise.

  Celebratory ice cream. Er, rather, sherbet. He was a pest about that, too. Apparently, he doesn’t do sweets. Lucky for him, I’m a sucker for a good strawberry sherbet.

  We stop at the grocery store before he drops me at my car and we head back to his place. His roommates are out, which is a relief to both of us. He takes a quick shower while I change out of my dress clothes and into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. I’m scooping two bowls of our fruity dessert when he enters the kitchen.

  He smells too good and his damp hair is entirely too sexy and his sleeveless shirt has me daydreaming about being wrapped in his arms and—oh, hell! I need to get a grip.

  “Somebody likes her sherbet,” he makes fun, assessing both bowls from over my shoulder.

  “We’re celebrating, remember?” I reply, turning to hand him one. I return the container to the freezer and he grabs each of us a spoon. He leans up against the counter next to me and I turn to do the same. We’re both silent as we dig in.

  “I can’t believe it worked so fast,” he mutters.

  “Honestly, me neither. I knew my plan was brilliant, but two weeks?” I giggle and look up at him. “I guess the two of us together is just that inspirational.”

  “Seeing as how we hated each other not too long ago, maybe I can see how that’s plausible.”

  I can’t explain why, but the thought of Roman hating me hurts my feelings. I nudge him with my shoulder and he looks over at me. “You didn’t really hate me, did you?”

  “Did you?”

  I express my annoyance that he answered my question with a question as I glare at him. In the end, I decide to answer him anyway. “No.”

  “Yeah. Me neither.”

  My glare dissolves into a smile and then I scoop out another bite of sherbet.

  “You know, only half of our plan is complete.”

  I roll my eyes, not because he brought it up in the middle of our victory dessert, but because he thinks that I’ve forgotten. I set aside my bowl, fold my arms across my chest, and turn to press my hip against the counter. “I don’t know why you keep acting like I’m not working on it. I am. Subtly is key. I can already tell that it’s going to be a hard sell getting her to go.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “When I mentioned that you and I went to church, she gave me this whole warning about not letting you pressure me into being someone that I’m not. Rome—what if that’s just not who she is anymore?”

  He turns to face me and sets aside his bowl. “It’s not that simple. She walked away for the wrong reasons. I need her to understand that. Whatever she chooses in the end is up to her, but…it’s hard to explain.”

  I can tell that this is really important to him. It’s not just about what he believes, it’s about saving a part of his sister that was lost during a difficult time for her. That summer after we first became friends, she seemed to lose so much all at once. I didn’t really know her the way he remembers. I know who she is now—but I also know how much he loves her. If what he’s saying is true, he’s not trying to force her back into anything, he just wants to remind her of…something. What, exactly, I don’t know.

  “Hey,” I murmur, gently resting a hand on his arm. “Help me to understand. Just try.”

  He inhales deeply and blows out a sigh, staring at me while he does it. I wonder if I’m going to have to fight it out of him, but then he starts to speak. “There’s a part of her that’s broken. And I don’t mean, like, she’s defective or something. She’s fine, she gets by; but life isn’t supposed to be just fine.”

  “I don’t know,” I hum with a sly smile. “She sounded a little more than fine earlier.”

  He shakes his head. He’s not amused but I can see it in his eyes that he’s not irritated at me, either. He really does want me to understand. “What goes on between her and Trevor from here on out is none of my business. I’m glad that she has someone in her life who loves her so fiercely; someone who will look out for her above himself; someone she can trust as much as she trusts him. But no matter how great the two of them are together, he’s still human! He’s perfectly capable of letting her down. In fact, he will let her down. I’m not saying that they won’t get through it, I’m sure they will, but he’s not perfect. Neither is she. They are two broken people who love each other dearly.

  “God, on the other hand, is perfect. He’s the only one who can restore the soul, renew the mind, and mend the heart. He’s the only one who can fix the broken parts of each of them. She knows that. Trevor might not know that he knows it, but there’s something about being in the presence of God that keeps him coming back for more. It’s like I said a couple weeks ago, they are looking for something bigger than each other. I believe that’s part of the reason it took them this long to get together. If it wasn’t for the two of us manipulating them, who knows how much longer it would have taken for them to come to their senses?

  “The problem is, Daphne is shutting God out—has been shutting God out—for years. Not because He let her down, but because His people let her down.”

  “Your mom,” I say softly.

  “Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. “My mom and the friends she made at church who looked at her differently once they realized she was pregnant. She walked away because she was hurt but without going to God, first. She should have known better. We grew up in the church, she knows the character of God; but I don’t blame her. That was the hardest time in her life. She shut almost everyone out.”

  “Except for you.”

  “And you,” he adds. “I just want her to have the chance to be reminded of how great God is. He loves her. No matter what other people say or do, He loves her. He loves Trevor—”

  “And me?” I halfheartedly tease.

  He surprises me as she reaches up and runs the back of his fingers along my cheek. “Most certainly.” A rush of tingles spreads from my face, all the way down to my toes. It takes me a second to find the words to formulate a sentence.

  “So, is that how you got over your breakup with Katie? God?”

  I remember that summer, when Daph and I would call each other almost every day. She told me about Katie and Roman’s broken engagement. Whenever she was sick of talking about herself or the baby, she’d tell me how her brother was dealing. At the time, I wondered how in the hell the two of them found the strength to get out of bed in the morning; it seemed like they were living in a cave of depression—each of them with their own sad story. If what Roman is saying about God is true…I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

  “My breakup with Katie was mostly about me staying true to myself. We got to a point where we just couldn’t say for sure that we were supposed to be together. I think I found peace knowing that God has a plan for my life and I’m not big enough to mess it up. That is, as long as I choose Him, and I always have.

  “There’s also great comfort in knowing that God cares for you, is looking out for you, understands you, and accepts you, regardless of who you are or what you’re going through. I found healing and restoration in my relationship with Him. I won’t lie and say that it was easy or that it happened over night. I loved Katie.”

  I study him for a moment, fascinated by the strength and purity of his faith. He’s fighting for his sister—for a part of her that he believes is still in her. He’s fighting for her and Trevor, just from a different angle than I was. If they don’t choose his way—God’s way—I believe that Roman will let it go. He cares for them either way. He simply wishes for them to make an informed decision so that whatever path they choose to take won’t be by default.

  For reasons I can’t understand,
I feel drawn to this part of him—his sensitivity is like nothing I’ve ever seen in a man. Actually, I think it makes him more of a man. I realize, in this moment, I like him even more. I’ve never had a guy open up to me like this before. It makes me feel…

  “What are you thinking?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Oh,” I shake my head, bringing myself back into the conversation. “I just—I think I understand a little better now. Thank you for telling me all of that.” I grin as my next words come to mind. “I won’t break up with you until after we get her in church at least once.”

  “Wait—you’re going to break up with me?” he asks mockingly, pointing at his chest. “No, no, no. I think I should be the one to break up with you.”

  “Please,” I scoff. “No one in their right mind would break up with me. We don’t want people thinking you’re insane, do we?” I joke, picking up my sherbet.

  “Well, when you put it that way,” he says derisively.

  “Then again…technically we can’t break up if we’re not in a relationship. What does a girl have to do to get a guy to commit?”

  He barks out a laugh and the sound makes me giggle. “I suppose I’ll have to give that some thought.”

  “You do that. In the mean time, let’s watch a movie or something.”

  As I follow her into the living room, I catch myself admiring the view. I like what I see, which totally freaks me out. It’s not just the way she fits into her little shorts, or how her tank top shows off her slim waist, or the way her long, blonde hair falls halfway down her back—it’s also how she walks with leisurely confidence and chatters incessantly, like she’s forgotten how alluring she can be. I’m starting to learn that when she gets comfortable, she takes her armor off. Without the short dresses and the high heels, without the jewelry, she’s just Logan.

  I’m doing more than getting used to her. I’m getting to know her. She’s also getting to know me. I can hardly believe the familiarity that exists in our conversations now. I told her that I couldn’t believe that in two weeks we helped encourage Daphne and Trevor to admit what they wanted with each other; but the real surprise is the evolution in our relationship.

  “How about this one?” She’s crouched down in front of Ryan’s movie collection. When I see which one she holds in her hand, a grin spreads across my face.

  “Why, M, I don’t think you could have picked a more fitting selection,” I tell her, taking the latest James Bond film from her grasp as I kneel down to get everything powered up.

  “Oh, are these for me?”

  I look over my shoulder and see her spreading the blankets I set out earlier over the couch. “Actually, they’re for me,” I say as I stand to help her. “I’ll take the couch. You can sleep in my room.”

  She looks up at me in surprise. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  She stands up straight and rests her hands on her hips. “Did Daphne tell you to do that?”

  “No,” I insist as I finish making up the couch. I sit when I’m done and smirk at her. “A gentleman surrenders his bed when a lady is present.”

  She smiles and then plops down into the space next to me. “You’re really good at this, did you know that?”

  “I told you,” I say as I start the movie.

  “You know you have to cuddle with me, right? In case Ryan gets back and finds us here.”

  I’m no longer surprised with how quick I am to acquiesce to her demands. Instead, I simply lift my arm and wait for her to rest against my side. She does so without a moment’s hesitation and I drape my arm around her, keeping her close. I try my best not to think about how easy it has been to fall into this routine with her. I focus all of my remaining energy on zoning in on the movie—but she’s too distracting. The way she smells, the way she feels, the way she responds to what’s happening on the screen. Soon, my thoughts are completely consumed by her.

  I want to kiss her.

  It’s been a desire that’s become harder and harder to deny over the last few days. At first, I thought it was just because it’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone. I thought maybe what Daphne said about me being lonely might be right. Then I thought—maybe it’s not that deep. Maybe she’s just a good kisser. She is. It could be that I’m just addicted to the way kissing her makes me feel. It takes me someplace else—to a place where I can’t think at all. It makes me feel like I’m going crazy in the best possible way.

  Or maybe I’m just afraid to admit the truth. Admitting how I really feel would mean that I’m not going crazy—I’m there. I mean, I’d have to be crazy to fall for her, right?

  “Are you sleeping?” she asks, tilting her head up at me.

  “What?” I manage, startled out of my thoughts.

  “That part was funny, you didn’t laugh, so I thought—”

  I interrupt her with a kiss. I can’t help myself. The look she gives me when I pull away just makes me want to do it again.

  “What was that for?”

  “Thank you—for—for not breaking up with me yet.” I know how that sounds. I know how she will interpret it. On the one hand, I mean it in the same way that she’ll understand it. She got what she wanted out of this deal. She could have bailed on me the second we left her apartment, but she didn’t. And she promised she wouldn’t. I appreciate her helping me try for what I want, too.

  On the other hand, my distaste for the idea of letting her go is not about Daphne at all. I wish that it was that simple—that this wasn’t turning into something real and complicated. But—

  She interrupts my inner monologue with a kiss. My mind instantly goes blank. When she doesn’t pull away, my tongue acts of its own accord, gently seeking entrance into her mouth. Her lips part with a tiny gasp and she wraps her arms around me as our kiss deepens. I have no idea what we’re doing. No one is here. No one is about to walk in on us. We don’t have to pretend—which leaves me at a loss as to what this means to either of us.

  I am sure of one thing. I don’t want it to stop.

  Apparently, neither does she.

  When she crawls into my lap and buries her fingers in my hair, she owns me. I pull my mouth from hers, kissing and sucking my way down her neck. She moans softly, cluing me into how much she’s enjoying this, encouraging me to continue. She tries to recapture my lips, but I won’t let her. I play the tease, eager to regain some sort of control in this moment. I kiss my way around her face, back down her neck, and along her exposed shoulder. Her skin is soft and smooth and I have the urge to explore it.

  When she grows impatient with desire, she tugs my hair and pulls my head back to claim my mouth with her own. We kiss until we’re practically panting and then we kiss some more, the movie long forgotten. My hands are everywhere—feeling my way up her arms, rubbing circles around her back, getting tangled in her silky hair. Everything about her feels incredible.

  We’re so enraptured by each other, neither of us notices when we’re no longer alone. That is, until someone clears his throat obnoxiously. Logan gasps and hides her face in my neck, apparently startled. Or, perhaps, suddenly bashful? Before I can think too much about it, Ashton speaks.

  “Uh, hi,” he mutters suspiciously.

  “Hey.”

  He stares at us, Logan still nestled in my arms. Not bothering to hide his bewilderment, he asks, “Is Ryan home?”

  “No.”

  “Right. Okay.” He turns and leaves the room without another word.

  “Is he gone?” whispers Logan.

  “Yeah. The coast is clear. You can come out now.” She sits up and bites her bottom lip as her eyes find mine. “Are yo—are you blushing?” I ask, flabbergasted. Never have I ever seen her show any type of embarrassment.

  “Shut up!” she cries, smacking me square in the chest. It makes me laugh, which makes her pout, which makes me want to kiss her.

  “Don’t give me that face, I beg of you.”

  “Or what?” she challenges flirtatiously.
/>   “I don’t know. That depends. Are you ticklish?”

  Her face falls, drained of amusement, and I get my answer.

  “Roman,” she says in a warning tone. “Don’t.”

  “You know that just makes me want to do it even more, right?” I tell her, sliding my hands around her waist. “Now, I’m curious.” She stares me down, her body stock-still. I pinch both of her sides and she lets out a yelp and tries to fight her way out of my grasp. I laugh so hard, shocked that she’s capable of making such a noise. I can’t even think about tickling her anymore; but I won’t let her go, either.

  “Roman! It’s not funny. Stop laughing at me.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I concede, fighting back my laughter. I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, but then the temptation to hear that sound again overpowers my self control. I attack her relentlessly while she squirms and squeals and giggles uncontrollably. She looks so full of joy and light, I feel like I’m gazing at an angel. It’s quite possibly the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

  An angel, Roman? Really?

  Dammit. I’m in trouble.

  When I stop, she’s completely out of breath. “I. Hate. You.” she breathes.

  I laugh at the irony of her words in conjunction with my thoughts. “No, you don’t. You said so earlier.” She huffs out a sigh and pushes her way out of my lap. “You know you have to cuddle with me, right? In case Ryan comes home and finds us out here.”

  “Oh, you think you’re soooo cute,” she mutters, cuddling up beside me.

  “So do you.” She sticks her tongue out at me and I kiss the corner of her mouth in response. When she offers me a small smile, I know I’ve been forgiven.

  “Hey! Pst—Wake up.”

  I open my eyes, still heavy with sleep, unsure of where I am.

  “Roman!”

  I look up, following the direction of Ashton’s voice, and glare at him. “What?” I mutter, wishing I was still asleep.

  “Dude—don’t look at me like that,” he hisses in a whisper. “What are you doing?”