He gives a subtle nod, unable to trust his body to do anything other than focus on the road.
“You’re majoring in software engineering … but you work in a bar,” she mutters, more to herself.
“Are you asking me or are you telling me?” he asks, pressing on the brakes as they come to a stoplight. His eyes glide to the navigation before moving to hers.
Eight minutes.
She shrugs, toying with the necklace on her throat. “When I saw you at the bar that night, you were different. You seemed to enjoy doing that. Why not get a degree in hospitality or business management?”
He nods, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “My mom is pretty traditional when it comes to success. In her eyes, it comes from the job title you have.”
“And you disagree?”
He scoffs. “Of course I do.” The light turns green, and he moves the car forward again, cutting his eyes to her. “To me, success comes from being happy. I should … feel something in what I do. It’s not about the title or the money. It’s about the people. It’s about the little things.”
“I’m confused. If you feel that way, then why software engineering?” she asks, completely turning her body to face him.
Roman’s eyes flick to the rearview—to Lucy—then back to the navigation system. She must notice, because she lets out a soft “oh.”
“What?” he asks, looking at her briefly. “What was that for?”
Seven minutes.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about how wrong I was about you,” she murmurs, twisting the jewelry on her neck.
“Hmm. Not sure I follow. Care to elaborate, Jones?”
She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Nice try.”
“Come on,” he urges, his voice a low rumble. “It won’t hurt my feelings.”
The headlights from a car passing by cast a sharp light over her face and he sees the knot in her forehead as she deliberates. She huffs, her mouth twitching as she stares at her hands.
“Okay,” she says, her voice soft. “I thought … that you were just another privileged pretty boy?—”
“You think I’m pretty?” he says smiling broadly as he turns a corner, narrowly missing a stray cat.
“—but you’re not,” she continues, ignoring him. “You worship the ground that Lucy walks on. You take care of your sister. You’re so loyal to your mom that you would jeopardize going after what you want just to keep her happy. You’re a … good guy, Roman. You’re probably one of the best people I know.”
His throat works through a swallow, unsure of what to say. He’s so used to his mom’s criticism of his choices, her words feel like a cure. A soothing balm that spreads throughout his body.
Five minutes.
“Roman?”
“Hmm.”
“You missed the turn again.”
He exhales, glancing her way. “I know.”
From his peripheral vision, he sees her squint. “Why?”
Removing one hand from the wheel, he runs a hand down his jaw. “I’m trying to spend more time with this really infuriating woman I met over a month ago who claims she wants nothing to do with me, but says some really nice, reallythoughtfulthings about me that make me think otherwise. Any advice you can give me? I’m dying over here.”
He doesn’t look over at her, knowing that he’s said more than he should have, but not giving a shit.
Three minutes.
