Just Roll With It: a Just Us novel (9 page)

I'm nervous. In the good way. Roman's on his way, and I don't feel any attacks coming on at all, I am excited. I haven't had a real attack in a while, not even one since my strange infatuation with Roman came to be. There's something about him, I feel like I know him already even though I don't. He's comfortable to be around, and like I said when I first saw him, there's a pull to him I can't escape. I think I might believe in love at first sight now. I always thought the idea was ridiculous. Most people would, until it happens to them.

The sound of my cell snaps me out of my thoughts, the name Roman lights up the screen. A phone call right now can't be good, maybe he is cancelling after all. He's supposed to be here in a few minutes, so why else would he be calling?

I'm reluctant to answer. "Hello?"

"Buh … Bee?" his voice says, stuttering.

"Yeah?"

"Did you say … uh … you lived off of Holly Rd?" he asks with humor.

"Yeah, off of the I-75 expressway."

"Ahh, shit, well that explains it."

"What's going on?" I drag my words out, getting a bit worried.

"I live by US-23 and went to the Holly Rd exit in South Holly," he explains.

"Oh, no." I laugh. "South Holly is definitely in the wrong direction, I live much further north of where you are."

"Yeah, I kind of got that now. So how do I get there from here, my GPS app is shit, and I'm not getting signal."

I'm embarrassed now. Oh, man, I couldn't get anywhere without my handy GPS.

"Hmm, so I happen to be terrible at directions, I can't tell you east from west, so I am the wrong person to ask," I say, flustered. "Wait, hold on, and let me see if Enzo is still here. I'll ask him."

I hold my hand over the speaker and go in search of my roommate. Well crap-ola, he's in his room, and I really don't want to walk in there again.

"Enz!" I yell loud enough for him to hear.

"What up, Buttercup?" he shouts through his door.

"I need your help," I whine. "Roman is lost somewhere in Holly, like South Holly, and I have no idea how to give him directions from there to here!"

He walks out of his room, and wow does he actually look nice. His hair is still wet, but he is wearing his best jeans and button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He must've been getting ready for another date with mystery girl.

He holds out his hand. "Give me the phone," he dryly demands.

"What? No!" I hold the phone closer to my chest. "Just tell me so I can tell him," I angry-whisper.

He snorts. "Won't work, and you know it. I'm going to have to explain the directions to him. Trust me when I say you will find a way to fuck it up, you and your girl directions."

"Girl directions?" I ask a bit annoyed.

"Turn right at the big tree, then when you see a big red building take a left, go straight for a while then when you'll see the white fence, you’re close." With hand gestures and all, he mockingly recreates a similar situation I've recently been in.

"Fine!" I harshly hand him the phone.

He touches the screen and begins to talk on speaker.

"Your girl here sucks at directions, dude, sorry about that." I give Enzo a look Lucifer himself would sweat. He shrugs in response and then uses his hand to silently shoo me away. "Where exactly in South Holly are you right now?"

Roman then relays some nonsensical words in the form of a sentence I don't understand in the slightest.

"Fuck that's far, okay, here's where you’re gonna go …" Enzo begins.

I walk out of the room to let them finish their conversation and to sulk on the couch. I've already messed our first date up with my sucky sense of direction. I feel like an idiot, and the date hasn't even started. He's probably already regretting the whole thing. Who wants to deal with this kind of crap? I'm surprised he's still coming at all.

Enzo walks out and tosses me my phone. "He'll be here in twenty, you’re welcome." And with a know-it-all grin, he walks back to his room.

I stay on the couch and continue to sulk for the next twenty minutes. I finally hear a knock, so I jump off the couch and run to throw open the door and start apologizing.

Roman is standing there and holds a hand up to stop me.

"No. Don't. I am sorry I'm late," he says, with a crooked smile.

One look at him, and I'm a puddle of melted goo. The whole fiasco was my fault, and he's sorry he's late?

He gently claps his hands together and rubs them. "Okay, so where did you want to go for dinner. I'm not familiar with the area so I thought you could pick."

I didn't plan to have any potential ideas, and I'm crap at decision making. Then I remember the locally-owned restaurant and bar downtown I go to with my mom. I like the place, so why not? I hope he will like it.

"There is a place, Joe's downtown. They have good food," I say more confident than I feel.

"Sounds solid, lead the way." He holds his arm out toward the door leading me to go first.

Roman's delicious today. He's not dressed up per se, but he doesn't have to be to look drool worthy. Him in a t-shirt, jeans and a smile are enough to do it. I particularly drool for his hair and how he has the perfect messy look down pat. Take those along with his face stubble and broad shoulders, and I'm pretty much doomed.

We take his car which I've now learned he's named The Ghost. No explanation needed seeing as how big, white, and old The Ghost is. I was surprised when he didn't open my car door for me. Most first dates I've had, the guy always did the door thing the first couple of times. But they eventually always stop; They seem to want to impress you at first but then after a while they show their true colors. At least Roman is being himself from the get go. No fake chivalrous gestures to try and show me he's someone he is not. I like that.

"I hope you like the place. I mean, I really like the food and the atmosphere, the lights are dimmed dark, so I hope you do too. I mean, if you don't we can go somewhere else …"
I'm babbling.

"Bee, I'm sure it's fine. Plus, the food is not what I'm looking forward to," he admits.

"No?"

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you better," he tells me, as he takes a quick eye off the road to look at me. 

She put herself out there. It was fucking brave, and hot as hell, telling me how she felt. That did me in. The last goddamn brick. Her in my car, looking at me with those round eyes, so vulnerable and insecure. My willpower subsequently unraveled.

Shit, I forgot to open the car door for her. They like chivalrous crap, right? I wasn't thinking straight, maybe from the nerves. I am not a complete jack ass, but the chivalry thing is not something I am used to doing. Amy and I had been friends first, we were already past the opening doors and flowers stage.

Here I am trying to make up for being such a dick, and I didn't even open the goddamn door. She doesn't look too pissed. She's smiling, smiling has to be a good thing, right? I also can't remember if I've been calling her Bee or Bug. She hasn't said anything yet, but if I did slip, then she probably wondered what the fuck was up with that. I know I caught myself right before saying it a few times. 

We start off asking all of the normal first date questions:
What's your major? What high school are you from? What do you do in your spare time? What movies do you like?
and so on. I tell him I'm an art major, while he happens to be a business and accounting major.

"So, you mentioned being a pro paintball player. Professional sounds so impressive, what is that like?" I ask, with genuine interest.

"Paintball's good. The team's good." He pauses for a moment and then chuckles. "I actually never thought I would make it far, but then my brother and I got picked up by a team. When we got sponsored everything sort of fell into place, and into fast-forward."

"Sounds pretty incredible. I bet your life is pretty exciting then, huh?"

He snorts. "Exciting is one word for it."

He draws his eyebrows in, and when he takes a sip of his drink, I realize he's not planning to elaborate.

"I'd be interested to know some of the other words for it," I cautiously encourage.

While considering my statement, he goes full on Thinker and sets his chin in his hand.

"There are pros and cons."

As soon as the words leave his mouth I begin to giggle.

"What? What's so funny?"

I watch the light bulb moment happen, and his eyes open wider as his mouth forms an amused O.

"Ahhhh, pros and cons, right. I almost forgot."

"What are some of the cons?" I ask, getting back to the subject.

"It is pretty intense when we get to travel around the country. It's a good time, really, but it takes up a lot of time and energy. I'm rarely home during the season." He scoffs at the thought. "I would always miss a shit ton of school. What's worse is, the teachers didn't even care because they knew I was gone for paintball, so they let it slide."

"Doesn't sound so bad."

I wish my teachers would have let things slide with me.

"The thing is just … I think a lot of people's priorities are skewed. I mean, should paintball have been more important than school work? And I was only semi-pro then, I wasn't even planning on going pro at first," he starts to rant as he becomes more excited about the subject. "Paintball is not a sport you make money playing, in fact, it's super fucking expensive. I take the game serious, but damn do some people take it too serious, like my brother for one."

"As long as you're still having fun playing," I put in my two cents.

"Exactly!" he roars and slaps a hand on the table, causing the top to shake enough for my water to almost tip over.

"Oh, shit. Sorry," he apologizes as he catches my glass.

"You're fine, no worries. It's nice you have something you're so passionate about," I confess.

"You know, I hope this isn't a deal breaker, but I have to tell you …" he starts.

Uh oh, here we go.

"Because of the money going into paintball, I still live at home with my brother and parents." His head was down, but he glances up to gauge my reaction.

"That's all? Geez." I exhale a breathy laugh.

"What?" he asks, confused.

"I thought you were going to say something bad, like you deal drugs to pay for paintball or you kill kittens or something."

I could maybe get past the drug thing, but the kittens would be a deal breaker.

"I moved out of my parents a month or so ago for the first time, and let me tell you, it's fantastic! My family is utterly insane. So yeah, I totally understand. No biggy."

"One more confession then?"

He looks at me for some sort of affirmation before he continues, so I hold my breath and nod.

"I don't particularly like kittens."

I huff in relief again, "I didn't figure. As long as you're not a kitten killer, I'm good."

"What do you mean, you figured?" He glares at me jokingly, yet still pointed.

"You, uh …. You just don't look the type," I stammer.

"Well, aren't you a tad bit stereotypical. Is it my hair? The way I dress? Oh, oh, wait, I know, the tattoos, isn't it?"

I feel my face burn up and my anxiety sneak in.

"I … I didn't mean for …. What I mean is …" I pause to gather my thoughts. "I wasn't—"

"I'm fucking with you, I am so not the type," he interrupts with an evil smirk.

I exhale the breath I was holding then I pick up my wadded napkin and throw it at him. He lets out a laugh which then causes me to start laughing as well.

"Oh, man, don't scare me," I chide. "I'd already fucked up with the directions. Seriously, I'm over here thinking I'm bombing, I'm nervous enough already."

"Aw, you're cute when you're fired up."

"Shut up."

His demeanor suddenly turns stoic.

"So, what’s up with your roommate, not too many girls have guy roommates. You know, unless—" I hold my hand up to stop him right there.

"Enz is my best friend. Has been since ninth grade. He's been there for me through a lot of crap, but trust me, he's like my brother. He even has a new girlfriend. I don't want you to be uncomfortable about him."