Tuesday, I guess." I make an extra effort to be as un-weird as possible while I open the car door, so I can get the hell out of here and fast.
"No, wait. Bu— Rigbee wait, I … uh … I think …" He lowers his head, shakes it and then clears his throat. "Okay, wow." He exhales a low whistle.
"It's fine, really. I'll go." I pull on the handle and open my door again. As I'm about to step out, I hear him groan,
"Wait."
I pull my leg back in and sit statue-like against the seat.
"What?" I study him, as I anxiously await his dreaded response.
"Here."
He takes out his cell phone and then looks at me. His eyes catch the low glow of the sunset making them appear warmer. Dusk looks good on him. I'm momentarily mesmerized. They are dark and deep and make me believe there are more layers to Roman then he lets on.
He continues looking at me, phone in hand, but I haven't been able to speak. I think he's waiting on me, though my brain isn't quite registering the difference between real and unreal right now.
He clears his throat again. "Well, can I get your number?"
He doesn't laugh, or sound cocky and annoyed about me being a complete dork right now. He seems … nervous almost. Not nearly as much as me.
I falter, "Oh, of course. Yes, here."
My number is what he was waiting on. Duh. I give him my number and open the door to leave. For like, the third time.
"I'll give you a call." He nods and watches me step out of his car. I'm hoping he doesn't register my inner excitement.
"We're going to have to get together for the speech," he listlessly confirms.
And realization dawns on me. Of course, the speech is why he stopped me for my number. He still has to work with me. I do the only thing I have left in me, before I give up completely. Before shutting the door, I lean down, and in the sexiest voice I can pull off, I say, "Looking forward to it." And I wink. Kill me.
I expel the breath I was holding and walk away. I don't panic or choke. I said what I thought. I can't control the way I react to him.
I look over my shoulder and back at him. He's pulling out of the parking spot. Already, he's on the phone with someone, smiling and laughing like nothing significant just happened. I want to be someone who makes him look like that. I shake my head free of my tangled thoughts. Roman is such a conundrum.
I think about the coffee date the entire drive home, going over our conversations and making sure I didn't say anything stupid. The actual coffee-date part went fine. The normal “let's talk about politics and religion because we're seniors in college and we think we're supposed to”, but all we're really spewing is bullshit. Roman spent the majority of the time trying not to look in my direction. Every time he talked, he made a point to direct his focus on one of the guys. He wouldn't even look at me when I was the one talking. He would always conveniently take a drink of his coffee instead.
I did learn he's a pro paintball player. I don't know much about the sport. I didn't even know it was a sport, or got to professional level anyway. It sounded impressive, though.
Doesn't matter. For me, coffee was the cover for my real intention: asking Roman to be my partner for this god-awful speech I've been dreading. And then I actually did. I tried to sound like it wasn't a big deal, and I just didn't have a partner yet, but I'm not sure he bought it.
When he didn't answer right away, I was sure he was going to say no. Then a low and never-sounding-so-sweet "Sure" fell from his lips. He'd done nothing but ignore me or spout quick one-word responses to me like he was annoyed, but he'd agreed.
I don't know why I care so much. I don't even know him, and that's the craziest part of all. I have this gut feeling there's a reason. More to him than what's on the surface.
Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he goes home to tell his friends about the clueless girl who won’t take a hint. But for now, I'm going to revel in the fact that I have a shot at
"No, wait. Bu— Rigbee wait, I … uh … I think …" He lowers his head, shakes it and then clears his throat. "Okay, wow." He exhales a low whistle.
"It's fine, really. I'll go." I pull on the handle and open my door again. As I'm about to step out, I hear him groan,
"Wait."
I pull my leg back in and sit statue-like against the seat.
"What?" I study him, as I anxiously await his dreaded response.
"Here."
He takes out his cell phone and then looks at me. His eyes catch the low glow of the sunset making them appear warmer. Dusk looks good on him. I'm momentarily mesmerized. They are dark and deep and make me believe there are more layers to Roman then he lets on.
He continues looking at me, phone in hand, but I haven't been able to speak. I think he's waiting on me, though my brain isn't quite registering the difference between real and unreal right now.
He clears his throat again. "Well, can I get your number?"
He doesn't laugh, or sound cocky and annoyed about me being a complete dork right now. He seems … nervous almost. Not nearly as much as me.
I falter, "Oh, of course. Yes, here."
My number is what he was waiting on. Duh. I give him my number and open the door to leave. For like, the third time.
"I'll give you a call." He nods and watches me step out of his car. I'm hoping he doesn't register my inner excitement.
"We're going to have to get together for the speech," he listlessly confirms.
And realization dawns on me. Of course, the speech is why he stopped me for my number. He still has to work with me. I do the only thing I have left in me, before I give up completely. Before shutting the door, I lean down, and in the sexiest voice I can pull off, I say, "Looking forward to it." And I wink. Kill me.
I expel the breath I was holding and walk away. I don't panic or choke. I said what I thought. I can't control the way I react to him.
I look over my shoulder and back at him. He's pulling out of the parking spot. Already, he's on the phone with someone, smiling and laughing like nothing significant just happened. I want to be someone who makes him look like that. I shake my head free of my tangled thoughts. Roman is such a conundrum.
I think about the coffee date the entire drive home, going over our conversations and making sure I didn't say anything stupid. The actual coffee-date part went fine. The normal “let's talk about politics and religion because we're seniors in college and we think we're supposed to”, but all we're really spewing is bullshit. Roman spent the majority of the time trying not to look in my direction. Every time he talked, he made a point to direct his focus on one of the guys. He wouldn't even look at me when I was the one talking. He would always conveniently take a drink of his coffee instead.
I did learn he's a pro paintball player. I don't know much about the sport. I didn't even know it was a sport, or got to professional level anyway. It sounded impressive, though.
Doesn't matter. For me, coffee was the cover for my real intention: asking Roman to be my partner for this god-awful speech I've been dreading. And then I actually did. I tried to sound like it wasn't a big deal, and I just didn't have a partner yet, but I'm not sure he bought it.
When he didn't answer right away, I was sure he was going to say no. Then a low and never-sounding-so-sweet "Sure" fell from his lips. He'd done nothing but ignore me or spout quick one-word responses to me like he was annoyed, but he'd agreed.
I don't know why I care so much. I don't even know him, and that's the craziest part of all. I have this gut feeling there's a reason. More to him than what's on the surface.
Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he goes home to tell his friends about the clueless girl who won’t take a hint. But for now, I'm going to revel in the fact that I have a shot at
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