Jules shrugs and settles next to me on the bench that definitely is not meant to hold two people. “So tell him you want to date him. See if he’s still interested.” She says it like it’s simple.
And it is, maybe—simple. But simple and easy aren’t the same.
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe deep down I’m afraid of being alone forever—but so what?”
Juliet blinks at me.
“Fear is not a starting place for wise decision making,” I go on. “In fact, making choices out of fear is a notoriouslybadidea.” I grip the words with sweaty fingers, the last ledge of my pride I try desperately to grasp.
“Well, yeah,” Juliet says hesitantly. “But you’re not agreeing to marry him. Or anyone, for that matter. No lifelong commitments are being made.”
“It’s still not a bad idea to be cautious,” I bite out, but the words barely escape past the painful knot in my throat.
“Oh, Ror,” Juliet sighs. She reaches over and brushes some of my hair away from my face, and then goes on with a sad smile. “So stubborn. How’s the weather up there on your high horse?”
That question, paired with Juliet’s pitying expression and understanding eyes, does what nothing else has.
“Cold,” I admit, my voice cracking with defeat. “It’s really, really cold.”
I haven’t seenRoman in person since he asked me out, so when I arrive at his house on Friday and see his car in the driveway, a jolt of anxious energy zips through me.
Good anxious? Bad anxious? Somewhere in the middle?
I don’t know. All I know is that feelings are stupid but I’m having them anyway, and it might be time to stop fighting them.
It might even be time to embrace them—just to see if they stop seeming stupid.
I tried to plan what I was going to say if Roman were here, but honestly, part of me didn’t expect him. I pull up in front of his grandmother’s house and hurry up the driveway, my heart beating wildly in my chest, my hands grossly clammy.
I just need to talk to him. That’s all. Like Juliet told me after our conversation yesterday—just talk to him. Feel the situation out, figure out where he stands and where I stand, and move forward from there.
It’s possible I’m on my way to cardiac arrest, though. I’m not sure this is healthy, the way my pulse is hammering through my veins.
When I get to the front door with its oval window and yellow doorbell, I pause, breathing deeply.
It’s perfectly acceptable to pause in preparation before turning oneself over to an unknown situation. So I shake my limbs a little bit, take another breath, and then lift my hand to knock.
Except I don’t get the chance, because the door lurches open before my fist reaches it. It opens right in front of me, revealing Roman dressed in tan pants and a button-up, keys in hand, clearly on his way out.
He jerks to a stop, his eyes widening as he stares down at me, and I know my expression is less than flattering as I stare back.
He finds his voice before I find mine. “Aurora,” he says, his gaze darting away from me. “Hi.”
I clear my throat. “Hi.” Looking him over again, I add, “Headed somewhere?”
What a stupid question. Obviously he’s going somewhere.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just going—” But he breaks off.
“You wouldn’t be in my way if you stayed,” I say.
And…it would be nice to have him here for my last day. Even if nothing ever happens between us, it would be nice to have one last evening like this.
“I know. I’ve got to go, though,” he says.
A sneaking suspicion pops into my mind. “Go…where?” I say.
“To my sister’s house.” He says the words easily enough, meeting my eyes again, but my suspicion remains.
