Page 110 of Volatile Obsessions

? Issues - Julia Michaels ?

Roman: I can’t do this. I’m going fucking crazy, Lux. I need to see you.

Glued to my couch with wine goblet in hand, I’d been reading and re-reading that damned text for over ten minutes.

Not forty-eight hours had passed since I last saw him, and here he was, seeking me out yet again.

Worst part? I wanted to respond, too.

Sighing, I took another long sip from my glass, draining it in entirety. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to deal with this dilemma. Hell, even the stronger shit wouldn’t help at this point.

I didn’t know what else to do.

The man was immune to rejection and I was driving myself mad trying to keep him away.

Because you’re not really rejecting him...

It’s true, I wasn’t. I knew it, he knew, even you know it. As convincing as I tried to make myself out to be, we all knew I was only playing myself...

Which led me to wonder what would happen if I let myself indulge once?

Just once.

Nothing I’d done up this moment had worked, so perhaps giving in to this obsession would aid us in working each other out of our systems.

Yeah, okay.

I groaned at the sheer ridiculousness of my thoughts. Who was I kidding? Indulging would only worsen the problem.

My phone pinged again.

And again.

And again.

Dropping my gaze to my lap, I read the new messages now displayed on my screen.

Roman: I’ll beg if I have to.

Roman: I just want to see you.

Roman: We can chill, smoke, whatever you want.

Every text hurdled me back and forth between livid and frenzied. The man was not easily deterred and it was becoming more and more impossible to say no. I had so many other pressing matters to be worrying about, like Phantom 2.0, that I wasn’t sure how much more energy I could put into holding the door closed on Rome’s face.

Ugh.

My eyes drifted back to the screen, re-reading the last text.

Roman: We can chill, smoke, whatever you want.

I could do with a smoke...

Call it a crazy spur of the moment decision, or maybe I was willing to take advantage of the man for my own selfish reasons, but with a muttered “fuck it,” I typed out a quick, one-line message and sent it before I could give myself the chance to overthink it.

Me:We need to talk.

His reply came within minutes.

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