As the woman grips Roman’s broad shoulder with excitement, he visibly stiffens. With his mouth tight and his dark eyes flickering to me, he says, “You want a selfie? Let’s go over there.” He gestures toward the other side of the store. “The lighting is better there.”
“Thank you, Roman!”
As Roman briskly guides the woman away, he calls out to me, “Pick out a bunch of snacks for us and I’ll be right back.”
“My husband is going to be so jealous I met you,” the woman says breathlessly, as Roman guides her away. “He just went back to the hotel for a nap, and he’s a huge Cru—”
“What’s your name?” Roman asks abruptly, interrupting the woman. It’s the last thing I’m able to hear of the conversation before the pair is out of earshot across the store.
I stand frozen for a long moment, watching Roman interacting with the woman with fascination. Did she attend the Universityof Texas, just like Roman? She must have, given that she said Roman is her favorite player. She looks to be at least ten years older than Roman, though, so she clearly didn’t attend UT Austin at the same time as him. But then again, lots of people continue supporting their alma mater’s sports teams long after graduation. My father still religiously watches his old college teams to this day, despite him attending school decades ago.
The cashier leaves her post to take a selfie with Roman, too, and now I’m deeply confused. Did the cashier go to UT Austin, too, or is she simply hopping on the first woman’s bandwagon after hearing her gush about Roman being her favorite player? Roman is so freaking handsome, I wouldn’t be surprised if the cashier simply wanted a photo with a hot guy to show her besties.Look at this insanely hot guy who wandered into the store today!
I strain to hear snippets of the trio’s conversation, but I can only clock Roman smiling while chatting with the ladies, their words indecipherable from here.
After a few minutes, Roman side-hugs each woman before striding back to me in front of the snack rack. “Sorry about that. Did you decide on snacks?”
“Did that first woman go to UT Austin?”
Roman’s jaw muscles pulse. “Possibly.”
“Why’d the cashier want a photo with you, too?”
“She was just being nice, I guess. Should we pick out our snacks?”
“Did that woman’s husband row on the crew team at UT?”
Roman scrunches his brow, looking deeply confused.
“She said her husband was on crew as you two walked away.”
Understanding dawns on Roman. “Oh. No. I don’t know what she said about that. I wasn’t really listening.” Roman’s Adam’s apple bobs as he grabs a bunch of protein bars and trail mix packs off the rack. “We should get some sports drinks.” Withthat, he beelines to a bank of refrigerators at the far back of the store.
When I get to the refrigerated section, Roman’s already holding up four different flavors to me for approval. “Good with you?”
“Great.”
“Do you want anything else?”
“I don’t think so. I’m still stuffed from lunch.”
“Me, too.” And off he goes toward the front of the store, presumably to pay for everything in his hands.
When I catch up to Roman this time, I’m expecting to find him laying down his purchases on the counter. To my surprise, however, I locate Roman just in time to witness him holding up his bounty, throwing down two hundred-dollar bills without stopping, and then calling over his shoulder, “Keep the change, Katie!”
“Thank you so much, Roman!” the cashier calls back. “Wow!”
Roman barrels outside, rather than stopping to open the door for me like he’s been doing all morning. Thanks to his long, determined strides, coupled with my much shorter legs, I have to sprint to catch up before settling into a healthy jog alongside him.
My what-the-fuck-o-meter is screaming at me. Roman was nothing but polite and kind to both women in that store, so it’s not like I’m wondering if I’m spending the day with an epic asshole who’s only pretending to be a nice person around me. But still, that whole interaction felt off, like Roman couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Was he worried the women might recognize me from the viral video? That’s got to be it! Multiple times today, I’ve expressed anxiety about someone recognizing me, so I bet he was trying to protect me from embarrassment in there. The realization makes me swoon even harder. He’s so thoughtful.
“Were you worried someone was going to recognize me in there?” I ask, keeping pace with Roman as he moves gracefully toward his rental car.
“That didn’t cross my mind, Iris. I just don’t want to chat with strangers while on a date with you.”
I’m not sure if I believe the video didn’t cross Roman’s mind. In fact, I’d bet he’s not admitting his true thought process to keep me from feeling embarrassed or anxious.
“How’d you know the cashier’s name?”
