Roman
Page 27
“I’ve got to work tomorrow,” Lexi says to my back. “Georgia agreed with me we should stay closed today because of the roads, but it will be good enough tomorrow to open up.”
“I’ll get you there in time,” I tell her assuredly. I don’t have any plans tomorrow other than a few hours in the gym and a short speed-skate practice.
“Then I’ll stay the night,” she says, and I smile down at the last scoop of eggs I transfer from the pan.
Chapter 12
Lexi
My phone chimes and a partial text notification is visible at the top of my phone screen. I tap on it, which takes me out of Facebook and right to the message. It’s from Georgia and it makes me smile. Just got home. Power is on, which is a good thing. It’s colder than a witch’s tit outside.
My fingers fly over the screen. Welcome back. Missed you.
Want to do dinner? she asks.
Can’t. On a date. I respond.
With who?!?!?!
I laugh to myself over her effusive use of punctuation to denote her surprise, but before I can even send a response, my phone rings. I stand up from my perch on a plush black leather couch in the family room of the arena where Roman dropped me off about an hour ago. He had secured me a pass for the room as well as my ticket, and left me here with promises he’d stop in to see me before going up on the ice. He introduced me to one of the assistant coaches’ wives who was there when we arrived. Roman told me it doesn’t get used all that often, as most of the team’s family members come to the arena separately and closer to the start of the game. But it is a nice place for those who might ride with one of the players to hang out before the game.
Since then a few more people have come into the lounge area, none of whom I’d talked to, as I’d been surfing on my phone. I walk to the doorway that leads out into the hall for a small measure of privacy and answer Georgia’s call.
“Did you have a good trip?” I ask her as soon as I answer.
“Oh, to hell with that,” she huffs impatiently. “You most certainly don’t want to hear all about my boring weekend with my college peeps, as we were in bed most nights by 9 P.M. and none of us can handle our liquor anymore. Now who are you on a date with?”
“Roman,” I say in a low voice as I lean against a concrete block wall painted white. The hallway I’m standing in is long but curved, matching the shape of the oval arena. We’re on the basement level and I’m surprised I actually have decent coverage.
“Roman?” she asks with surprise. “I thought he had a game tonight.”
She knows this because I had talked to her this morning, calling her as soon as I had woken up in Roman’s guest room, all snuggled under a thick, warm comforter and with a smile on my face over how interesting my time with this man had been up to that point. I was actually sort of riding high on his gallantry in not making a move on me when we arrived at his house in the early morning hours. Not because I wasn’t interested in him in that way—I totally was—but because I get the distinct impression that he’s treating me a bit differently from other women. That definitely caught my attention; his elusiveness and unpredictability has me off-kilter in a very good way. Usually the men I’ve been with have been totally transparent and two dimensional, but Roman has piqued my interest on a variety of levels.
I had told Georgia this morning about the power outage and that Roman had brought me back to his house, securing me in a guest room. I had also told her that he had a game that night, and I just assumed I’d be back at my little garage apartment and would be seeing Georgia when she got back into town. So the fact I’m on a “date” right now is surprising to her.
“He talked me into coming to the game tonight,” I tell her, not able to contain my excitement. She knows how badly I’ve wanted to see my dad’s team in action.
“And after the game?” she asks me slyly.
“Well,” I say playfully. “He’s made it clear he wants me to come back to his house.”
“Of course he has,” she says dryly.
“No, it’s not like that,” I tell her quickly. “I mean…it is like that, but not like that. We’ve got this really heavy flirting going on, and plenty of innuendo, but I wouldn’t be surprised if nothing happens tonight. You know?”
“Honey, no, I don’t know,” she says. “I haven’t been on a date or laid in years. I’m not sure how these things work nowadays, but all I know is that sex is a fine way to spend time with someone you like, so go for it if you want.”
“Georgia,” I exclaim in surprise, because while she is super cool for her age and one of the most open and liberated women I know, she’s also become like a surrogate mom to me over these last several months, and the one thing I never talked about with my mom was sex.
She laughs into the phone and chides me, “I’m still a very capable woman in the sack, Lexi. You don’t stop having or thinking about sex after a certain age.”
“I know that,” I say apologetically. “It’s just…we’ve never talked about that before.”
“Well, that’s because you’ve not been in the position since I’ve known you to talk about it.”
That’s true. I’ve been here seven months, but I’ve only casually dated a few guys, and not one of them had me interested enough to jump in the sack with them.
“If you’re interested in my opinion, I’ll give it to you,” she offers.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say with a laugh, still not sure I want to have that conversation with her, but more because I sort of like not knowing what’s going on. It’s part of the adventure of being with a man like Roman, and I don’t want to make a decision on what to do until I’m faced with it.
As of now, I’m enjoying flying by the seat of my pants.
“Okay,” Georgia says with obvious affection in her voice. “I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow.”
“Sounds great,” I say softly. “See you then.”
She disconnects and I tap the edge of my phone against my chin reflectively. Georgia has been a godsend to me since I moved here. It was by sheer luck I answered her ad for a barista, and even better luck that she was so freaking awesome. When I moved into the apartment vacated by her son, I found a woman who was slightly grieving that her only child was gone, even though I know she was also relieved in some part because of her frustrations with him. I was lonely because my mom had died, and she was lonely because Craig had left, and we found an easy friendship that developed quickly. We spent many nights eating dinner together in her house, having discussions about life, love, death, and perseverance. Georgia is nothing like my mother, who was quiet, calm, and sedate. She was reliable and comforting. Georgia is wild, uninhibited, and effervescent. She radiates energy, and just being in her presence makes you feel good.
“I’ll get you there in time,” I tell her assuredly. I don’t have any plans tomorrow other than a few hours in the gym and a short speed-skate practice.
“Then I’ll stay the night,” she says, and I smile down at the last scoop of eggs I transfer from the pan.
Chapter 12
Lexi
My phone chimes and a partial text notification is visible at the top of my phone screen. I tap on it, which takes me out of Facebook and right to the message. It’s from Georgia and it makes me smile. Just got home. Power is on, which is a good thing. It’s colder than a witch’s tit outside.
My fingers fly over the screen. Welcome back. Missed you.
Want to do dinner? she asks.
Can’t. On a date. I respond.
With who?!?!?!
I laugh to myself over her effusive use of punctuation to denote her surprise, but before I can even send a response, my phone rings. I stand up from my perch on a plush black leather couch in the family room of the arena where Roman dropped me off about an hour ago. He had secured me a pass for the room as well as my ticket, and left me here with promises he’d stop in to see me before going up on the ice. He introduced me to one of the assistant coaches’ wives who was there when we arrived. Roman told me it doesn’t get used all that often, as most of the team’s family members come to the arena separately and closer to the start of the game. But it is a nice place for those who might ride with one of the players to hang out before the game.
Since then a few more people have come into the lounge area, none of whom I’d talked to, as I’d been surfing on my phone. I walk to the doorway that leads out into the hall for a small measure of privacy and answer Georgia’s call.
“Did you have a good trip?” I ask her as soon as I answer.
“Oh, to hell with that,” she huffs impatiently. “You most certainly don’t want to hear all about my boring weekend with my college peeps, as we were in bed most nights by 9 P.M. and none of us can handle our liquor anymore. Now who are you on a date with?”
“Roman,” I say in a low voice as I lean against a concrete block wall painted white. The hallway I’m standing in is long but curved, matching the shape of the oval arena. We’re on the basement level and I’m surprised I actually have decent coverage.
“Roman?” she asks with surprise. “I thought he had a game tonight.”
She knows this because I had talked to her this morning, calling her as soon as I had woken up in Roman’s guest room, all snuggled under a thick, warm comforter and with a smile on my face over how interesting my time with this man had been up to that point. I was actually sort of riding high on his gallantry in not making a move on me when we arrived at his house in the early morning hours. Not because I wasn’t interested in him in that way—I totally was—but because I get the distinct impression that he’s treating me a bit differently from other women. That definitely caught my attention; his elusiveness and unpredictability has me off-kilter in a very good way. Usually the men I’ve been with have been totally transparent and two dimensional, but Roman has piqued my interest on a variety of levels.
I had told Georgia this morning about the power outage and that Roman had brought me back to his house, securing me in a guest room. I had also told her that he had a game that night, and I just assumed I’d be back at my little garage apartment and would be seeing Georgia when she got back into town. So the fact I’m on a “date” right now is surprising to her.
“He talked me into coming to the game tonight,” I tell her, not able to contain my excitement. She knows how badly I’ve wanted to see my dad’s team in action.
“And after the game?” she asks me slyly.
“Well,” I say playfully. “He’s made it clear he wants me to come back to his house.”
“Of course he has,” she says dryly.
“No, it’s not like that,” I tell her quickly. “I mean…it is like that, but not like that. We’ve got this really heavy flirting going on, and plenty of innuendo, but I wouldn’t be surprised if nothing happens tonight. You know?”
“Honey, no, I don’t know,” she says. “I haven’t been on a date or laid in years. I’m not sure how these things work nowadays, but all I know is that sex is a fine way to spend time with someone you like, so go for it if you want.”
“Georgia,” I exclaim in surprise, because while she is super cool for her age and one of the most open and liberated women I know, she’s also become like a surrogate mom to me over these last several months, and the one thing I never talked about with my mom was sex.
She laughs into the phone and chides me, “I’m still a very capable woman in the sack, Lexi. You don’t stop having or thinking about sex after a certain age.”
“I know that,” I say apologetically. “It’s just…we’ve never talked about that before.”
“Well, that’s because you’ve not been in the position since I’ve known you to talk about it.”
That’s true. I’ve been here seven months, but I’ve only casually dated a few guys, and not one of them had me interested enough to jump in the sack with them.
“If you’re interested in my opinion, I’ll give it to you,” she offers.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say with a laugh, still not sure I want to have that conversation with her, but more because I sort of like not knowing what’s going on. It’s part of the adventure of being with a man like Roman, and I don’t want to make a decision on what to do until I’m faced with it.
As of now, I’m enjoying flying by the seat of my pants.
“Okay,” Georgia says with obvious affection in her voice. “I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow.”
“Sounds great,” I say softly. “See you then.”
She disconnects and I tap the edge of my phone against my chin reflectively. Georgia has been a godsend to me since I moved here. It was by sheer luck I answered her ad for a barista, and even better luck that she was so freaking awesome. When I moved into the apartment vacated by her son, I found a woman who was slightly grieving that her only child was gone, even though I know she was also relieved in some part because of her frustrations with him. I was lonely because my mom had died, and she was lonely because Craig had left, and we found an easy friendship that developed quickly. We spent many nights eating dinner together in her house, having discussions about life, love, death, and perseverance. Georgia is nothing like my mother, who was quiet, calm, and sedate. She was reliable and comforting. Georgia is wild, uninhibited, and effervescent. She radiates energy, and just being in her presence makes you feel good.
