I lost it then. The world shattered around me. In the midst of it, I heard the music rise and fall again, rise and fall, and whatever little was left of my conscious mind wondered if the people in and out could hear my cries of pleasure or if they simply melded into the rest of the noises. It wasn’t long before Roman’s movements slowed as he appreciated the climax he was experiencing too.
When we were done, I stood there, my head pressed against the metal door, panting, and then I heard two guys talking, or actually shouting, at one another, and I started laughing. It couldn’t be helped. No, the sex hadn’t been funny—not by a long shot—but my veins were swirling with heady chemicals and I couldn’t have stopped laughing any more than I could have commanded the skies to the ground. I heard Roman chuckling in my ear too, and we laughed for lots longer than we should have. What an amazing feeling. Un-fucking-believable.
Chapter Eleven
SHEER CRAZINESS. THAT was what it was, but I wasn’t going to question it. Roman and I left the nightclub after we regained some energy, and I tried to walk out of that men’s room with as much dignity as I could muster. I acted like I’d belonged in there, and only one guy gave me a weird look. I’d left the panties on the floor, but Roman insisted upon taking them, and he tucked them in his front pocket.
When we were in the parking lot, I told him I would never wear them again, but I didn’t tell him why.
I managed not to visibly shudder at the thought.
We went to Dairy Queen after for ice cream. I don’t know why. It just sounded good. We both thought that.
And the idea that I was running around in public without any panties on made us insane with desire, and we fucked again as soon as we got back to Roman’s apartment. As we lay in bed afterward, he looked at me, and I could see more in his eyes than friendship. It freaked me out a little. Okay, so it freaked me out a lot, and I feigned a big yawn and then rested my head on his chest so I wouldn’t give away how I really felt.
We’d been having fun. Why did we have to wreck it by getting all serious? I didn’t want to, and I didn’t think we had to. I just wondered what the hell Roman had been thinking.
Fortunately, the next morning, we parted with a little kiss, knowing we wouldn’t see each other—hell, we wouldn’t see the light of day—until all our grading was done and entered into the college database, with accompanying documentation turned into the proper office on campus. I hoped that time apart would help us realize we’d just been enjoying a little summer fling. After that, back to business.
Okay…so I hoped Roman would realize that. My mind was already firmly there. Could I see Roman as more than a friend? Oh, I supposed anything was possible, but we’d been great friends for years. Going further would just wreck it.
I knew, though, that I’d been feeling the inkling of something further too, but I thought that was a bad idea. For fun, sure, it was okay having sex with my friend, but a relationship? It just didn’t feel plausible. It felt strange…and I wondered if I’d ever get over that feeling.
I let my mind run there, though. Would Roman and I work? We were great friends, and I couldn’t imagine a better one, but it was hard for me to get over that friend sensation, to try to feel a sense of permanence and of something beyond the lust. The problem was that my overwhelming feelings of friendship on the one side and crazy lust with no strings on the other were stopping me from thinking of more.
I knew I needed time. I had to separate myself from him for a bit and figure out what I wanted…what I needed, and because Roman was a good friend, I would need to find a way to tell him whatever decision I landed on.
He called Tuesday and, being my best friend, it didn’t take him long to sense that something was up. “How’d grading go?”
“Fine. I’m glad I have a couple weeks before starting all over again.”
“Me, too. Wanna celebrate?”
Normally, I’d ask what he had in mind, but not today. “Actually, Roman, I need to spend a few days writing. I haven’t really written in over a week and I need to get back to it.”
He was quiet. I could feel the heaviness of the silence between us, something that had never existed before. He wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot. Roman was one of the smartest guys I knew. “Need some space?”
I let out the air I’d been holding in my lungs. “Yeah. Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” He was quiet for a minute, and I couldn’t think of what I wanted to say. It was the first awkward moment ever in my friendship with Roman. We had never had a moment of silence that felt weird. Of course, it had been rare for us to be without anything to say, but the few times we’d been in that situation, things had never felt odd.
They did now. Boy, did they. Fortunately, he—being the master psychologist and great best friend—knew what to say. He already knew what was in my head, and if I thought he didn’t, I was fooling myself. “You deciding you don’t like the idea of having a substitute boyfriend?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Your emotions are getting muddy?”
Goddammit. How did he know that when I myself hadn’t even quite put my finger on it yet? He was right, though, and there was no denying it. If I did, I was only lying to myself. I was having a hard time figuring out how Roman fit into my life, now that we’d crossed that line, and what if I decided I wanted to return to friends only? Would that work? Would Roman be okay with that? “Yeah, I guess they are.”
I could almost hear him shrug. “Take the time you need.” In the next few seconds of silence, though, I could hear the regret in his voice. No, not quite regret. Sadness? He wasn’t letting on. Maybe it was because of our friendship that I knew that’s where his brain was, but I just knew—I knew he had more he wanted to say but didn’t trust himself.
Yeah, that was a first. I’d never been able to read Roman, not that I’d ever had need to, because we’d always been open and honest with one another, but I guessed that maybe now we were a little more vulnerable—or he was, at any rate. I felt like a real asshole, but I knew I really did need space, and if I didn’t take it, nothing between us would ever be the same…or be as good. Before we hung up, he said, “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
I had only one question, one that I wouldn’t ask aloud. Was that my friend Roman talking or my substitute boyfriend?
* * *
As though he were a vulture sensing my vulnerability, Ridley flew back into my life the very next day. He called my cell phone and I stared at the lit-up screen, trying to decide if I wanted to answer or not. Whether he knew it or not, Ridley had almost broken my heart, and I didn’t know if I wanted his poison back in my life or not.
So I let it go to voicemail.
In typically Ridley fashion, he did not leave a message.
But, damn him, just having called made me start thinking about him. Hardcore. Roman had been the substitute boyfriend for the pretend boyfriend Ridley, and, until two short months ago, Ridley was the man I’d been trying to sweet talk into a more serious relationship: to be a real boyfriend.
His timing sucked.
Or maybe it was perfect. I didn’t know…but he got my brain working overtime. I started remembering all the good times we’d had together (granted, they’d been staged, all except for the first one, but who was counting?) and his insanely good looks. I refused to call, though…and, believe me, I was tempted. I really had no reason not to—it was only my pride holding me back.
But then he texted…and I could no longer resist.
Lizzie?
I stared at that one word on my phone screen until it blacked out again, but I could still see it in my head. It pissed me off that he was calling me Lizzie again, except now I realized I’d kind of missed it.
So I decided I’d give him a call…but I’d make him sweat a little first.
I held my cell tightly in my hand and I thought of Roman. He and I had enjoyed a hell of a summer, but I felt a little bad about considering Ridley. I don’t know why. Roman
and I were still friends—were just friends. Hell, he’d even gone so far as to name himself my substitute boyfriend…so this should be no big deal, right?
Right.
I called Ridley. I could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Lizzie, baby. How you been?”
Just hearing his cockiness made the inner bitch in me flare, but I decided not to go there. Part of me thought he might experience sadistic enjoyment from my suffering, and if I felt the need to rub his nose in the fact that I’d been well-sexed for the past couple of months, he might figure out that it was a defensive maneuver. Best to not say anything that came from an emotional corner of my heart. “Fine.”
“I’ve missed you.”
Whoa. That felt heavy.
But part of me didn’t believe him. If he’d missed me, why had he not come around for weeks? I was skeptical. “Bullshit.”
“Aw, Liz. I did. I missed you…but you didn’t want me around, did you?”
No, that wasn’t it. I hadn’t thought much about him. Between the condensed summer class schedule and Roman’s antics (not to mention my insane writing schedule), I hadn’t had much time to think about him. Roman was a huge (and welcome) distraction. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but I know you didn’t.” He paused. “What about now?” I took a deep breath, trying to decide how to respond. While my heart wasn’t at that point yet, this guy had the potential to destroy it. I had a duty to protect it, because even though I could write the hell out of an angsty plotline, I didn’t need it in my life. I couldn’t write when I was sad or depressed. Before I could respond, he said, “Don’t answer yet. I’m coming over. You can tell me in person.” He hung up before I could respond.
Oh, no. What had I done?
Chapter Twelve
SO I GOT nervous waiting for Ridley, right, and I started thinking about Roman. Sure, Ridley and I had had a good, hot run, but Roman had surprised me and turned everything upside down. There had been lots more to that man than had met the eye.
Unlike Ridley, Roman was my friend. He cared about me.
Now, though, Ridley was indicating that maybe he did care, and I didn’t quite know how to deal with that revelation.
Running to my bedroom, I started rifling through clothes, looking for the perfect outfit. I didn’t want it to seem like I’d tried to look nice for him, but I didn’t want to look like a slob, either. I found a pair of cute cutoffs in a dresser drawer that I hadn’t worn in ages. They’d show off my legs and maybe look sexy without appearing to have been done for him. I found a slinky top too—navy blue with thin straps—not revealing, but it showed off my shoulders and hugged my frame. I looked in the mirror. Okay, maybe trying too hard. I looked in the closet again and grabbed a light blouse instead. I wasn’t wearing shoes, so I touched up the red polish on my toes and then ran to the bathroom mirror to check my makeup.
Ugh. That would never do. I added a new coat of mascara and blush and put on some light pink lipstick. Ridley had seemed to like the pink on me, although he’d never said a word. Then I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, a style that had always seemed to favor my face, making me look a couple of years younger…not that I needed it.
Taking a deep breath, I looked at myself in the mirror, satisfied with my efforts. Then I picked up in the bedroom a bit. I looked around, believing it was good enough but then panicked. Should I change the sheets? Roman had been in my bed at least twice since the last time I’d changed them.
That was when I heard him at my front door.
I inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, smoothing my blouse along my belly as I walked toward the front door. Inside, I felt frozen with fear. I tried to think of Ridley playing the part of the book boyfriend I was writing, but I’d already had Roman playing that part for the past two weeks. Ridley didn’t quite fit. Maybe one of my next books…
My mind tried to lock around that idea as I opened the door.
Only it wasn’t Ridley. It was my substitute boyfriend.
Roman.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Oh, shit. Had I said that out loud? And did it sound as rude to his ears as it had to mine?
Probably, considering he looked irritated. It was then that I noticed the bouquet of roses in his hand…and I’d just been a horrible bitch. Before I could apologize, he said, “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
I let the air out of my lungs. “I’m doing all right. Sorry. Please come in.”
I opened the door the rest of the way, momentarily forgetting that Ridley would be there any moment. I’d have to tell Roman about that, but first I wanted my friend to know he was important to me. When I closed the door, he handed me the bouquet. “For you.”
“Thank you.” He followed me to the kitchen. I placed the bouquet on the counter and opened the cabinet under the sink where I had a couple of vases stored. I half filled the vase with water and said, “They smell wonderful.”
He didn’t sit. As I arranged the flowers in the vase, he said, “Do you need more time?” I looked up at him and could tell he had more questions, but he wasn’t willing to expose himself further to ask. That was strange, so unlike my friend Roman.
I took a deep breath and considered him for a few moments. I didn’t know what I wanted. How would I tell him that? Would he understand? “I don’t know.”
His voice was quieter and he took two steps closer to me. “Have you thought about it at all?”
Oh, boy, had I. My writing had actually suffered—not just because I didn’t have him playing substitute boyfriend, but also because I’d missed him. I’d wanted him around. Well, most of the time. But then there was Ridley…and now my mind thought maybe I should give that boy a serious chance. After all, he’d been my first pretend boyfriend, the one who’d helped me expand my sexual repertoire so that I could be a better erotic romance writer.
Oh, hell. I had no fucking idea what I wanted.
Mr. Psychoanalyst Roman already knew that. It was written all over his face.
Or maybe he didn’t always know what I was thinking, because he asked, “Are you regretting what we did this summer? That we crossed that line?” He took a deep breath and gripped the back of one of the kitchen chairs with his hands. “Are you wishing we could take it back?”
Wait a minute. Why? Why was my best friend Roman suddenly having a hard time reading me? I’d always been an open book to him, and he’d never struggled to know what my thoughts were, my motivations, where I was coming from. Why was he confused?
I knew why.
My time to psychoanalyze.
His heart was involved. It had to be. That was the only thing that could explain why he didn’t know my thoughts anymore.
All that did was make me more confused, but Roman was still my friend, and I wasn’t going to lie to him about anything. “No. Hell, no, Roman. Do you wish we could?” Maybe I wished it would be easy to go back to the way things were now that summer was gearing up to sing its swan song, but I didn’t regret anything we’d done.
His eyes softened, but I think I was playing the psychologist now. Either that or Roman was wearing his heart on his sleeve, something he never did. He was getting ready to answer my question when the doorbell rang.
Sigh.
It had to be Ridley with his always-perfect timing.
I couldn’t get it yet, though. I wanted to give Roman a chance to say what he had to say. Instead, he just shook his head.
Oh, God. Now what? Well, I didn’t want to risk Roman looking more dejected than he already did. Oh, I’ll give him credit. It’s not like he hadn’t put on a happy face. He was trying to look neutral and even positive. I think it was maybe because we had been friends for so long that I was able to see the struggle behind his eyes.
But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he nodded his head toward the front door. “Should you get that?”
“Yeah. But I need to warn you…” I sucked in a deep breath. I needed it. “It’s Ridley.”
He raised h
is eyebrows. “Ridley…as in your first pretend boyfriend?”
Oh, his eyes. They were either hiding pain or disappointment in me that I was so weak. I couldn’t tell which. Either way, whatever his eyes were trying not to show was painful. I knew there was no fixing anything—not yet, at any rate.
He held out his hand as if to show me the way to my own front door. His lips were sealed. I let out a breath and glanced at him, then walked out of the kitchen.
I didn’t realize until I was opening the door that Roman had followed me into the living room.
Yep, it was Ridley…and oh, my fucking God, he looked hotter than ever. I could feel the drool accumulating in my mouth until I forced myself to swallow. Jesus, the guy was a sight for sore eyes. He still had his longish soul patch, yeah, but he had let a little scruff grow all along his jaw. Mmm. His sunglasses were tucked in the front of his t-shirt and he wore a pair of snug faded Levi’s and black boots. He’d been riding his bike—I was sure of that—and it made my heart swell all the more.
Poor Roman. I sensed, rather than saw, him behind me. Don’t get me wrong—Roman was a hot guy, too, but he didn’t have that bad boy aura around him. That was what had initially attracted me to Ridley and, obviously, I still found him appealing for that very reason.
God, he was wearing that smirk too. Well…that is, until he saw Roman behind me. Then his face dropped. It was subtle, but I saw it.
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