Page 24 of When We Meet Again

Roman holds up his hands. “Hey, what you do with your time is your thing. You don’t have to go on the trip. I know my mother guilted you into it…” He starts toward the door, and I stop himby rushing around in front of him, resting my hands on his hardened chest.

“Roman! Would you wait?” I snap and his eyes widen. “For Christ's sake!”

“Okay.” He tucks his hands in his jeans pockets and turns back to face me. He looks really good today. His dark hair is messy, and his baseball jersey shirt fits tight against his lean torso. I force my eyes to meet his and see he’s wearing a grin.Dammit. He just caught me checking him out. “I’m sorry. Continue with what you were saying.”

Eyes away from his chest, I’m able to focus once more on my tale, not wanting to relive those hours but knowing that I have to. “When I ran that day, from the wave, I climbed to a house on the mountainside…. Where I met Tom.” Roman’s eyes go dark. Is he jealous?The thought of Roman being jealous of me talking to another man squeezes my heart.

“Relax, caveman. He took me in for safety. And he was an older Irishman who had lost his wife and fell into studying Taoism… He knows what I’m going through… We write letters to each other.” Tears rim my eyes. I know that I’m so fortunate to meet someone like him, regardless of the circumstances.

“What kind of letters do you write?” he asks with a faint smile, genuine interest in his eyes. Not a look of jealousy.

But I can’t quite meet his eyes as I reply, “He’s been teaching me about Tao, and how to release all that doesn’t serve me. How to live more present, purposefully, and to just…be,” I continue, afraid to look up at him. Afraid that he’s judging me.

“I’m happy he’s able to help you.” The tension in his shoulders relaxes and I let my hands fall. “So, he’s like a pen pal?” he asks.

“Exactly, but he’s turning out to be my own personal psychologist. “I laugh at the idea. “But your mother didn’t guilt me into anything. I’m going on the trip.” I lower my voice andcontinue, “Because of the help from Tom—from his words—I’m able to go and be in the moment and not live in the past.”

Roman gives me one of his perfectly shiny, full smiles, “Good! Then let’s get going because as much as I don’t give a shit about being late for the plane, Idocare about being late to the dock. My mother can be intense, as you know.”

I glance at the clock. “Oh my God! Roman Huxley! That’s what you’re doing here! Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t my alarm go off? What the hell? My phone is dead?”

He picks up my phone off the desk, holds it up, and I stare at the reflection of myself in the black screen. I catch a glimpse of my fresh-out-of-sleep self, and I run my hands through my hair.

“Oh no! I can’t believe you’ve seen me like this!” His eyes fall to my boobs again, but we both end up frozen and stunned. I find myself strangely flattered by his interest, and I’m by no means blind to his attraction toward me, but I know that there has been a shift between us. Something I’m not opposed to, but something that may be forbidden.

Roman’s phone chimes from his pocket, startling us from our obvious gaping.

I speed around the room trying to find something normal and semi-nice to wear on the plane, and he finds my charger to plug my phone in for a few minutes. I don’t want to look like a homeless person when Roman looks…well, how Roman looks. I roll my eyes and try not to smile. I finally feel a bit of happiness today. Like the storm is moving out. Like the sun is peeking out from the dark cloud that’s loomed over me for so long. And I know in my grieving heart that it’s all thanks to Roman Huxley.

“I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me outside,” he gently demands. “Don’t forget your passport and your phone.”

I salute him and keep moving.

I lockmy apartment fifteen minutes later. I decided to take a quick shower but don’t tell Roman about the reason for the delay.

“What?” I stare at him, as I’m walking down the steps. He’s leaning against his motorcycle, two helmets balanced on the seats.

“Nothin’.” He smirks like he’s James Dean in his ‘bad boy’ roll.

My black Doc Marten boots shuffle against the gravel as I slowly approach the pair of gray eyes consuming my soul.

“Is this okay?” He gestures to the blacked-out Ducati.

“Yes!”Have some chill, Waverly.“Yes. It’s perfect.” I smile. Eighteen-year-old me is screaming obscenities in my brain, right now. Early teen me was obsessed with the ‘surfer dude’ vibe.Floppy hair, I used to call it, with a year-round tan and light eyes. I honestly thought the young Eric von Detten was the end game. But as I got older, the darker features grew on me. Dark hair, dark eyes.Dark soul.

Roman checks two of those three boxes. I’m not in the ‘dark soul would bode well for me’ type of wavering mental health state at the moment, though.

“You good, Kensi?” His smile jolts my lady parts into high gear as he hands me my helmet with his glove-clad hands in exchange for my phone, which he slides into my backpack and zips up. “When I turn, turn with me. If you shout, I probably won’t be able to hear you, so if you need me, knock twice.” His hand drops to his legs and taps two times. I nod in response. Roman brushes my hair out of my face, never taking his eyes from mine before sliding my helmet on, “One more thing…” Hegrabs his helmet and shakes his head, moving his hair from his face, “Hold on tight.” And then he gives me the sexiest smile before pulling his helmet on.

I grab his outstretched hand to help me onto the bike and the engine revs to life.

It’s beena while since I’ve been this nestled up with a man, and the warmth of his body is making my hands tremble. He takes my hands in his and pulls them tighter around his torso, causing us to be completely, every inch of our bodies, flush with one another.

As we pull out of the parking lot, the rev of the engine is enough to send my senses into overdrive. This is everything I thought it would be. Roman Huxley checking another item off of my bucket list.That's two more than his brother ever bothered to do.

We pull up to a red light and he taps my leg, and I tap back. A blossoming heat settles between my thighs and it’s not from his body. Every time I touch him, my heart beats out of my chest wanting more.Needingmore.

I look past him and see a camera. He has the screen zoomed out far enough that you can see we’re on his bike. I smile even though you can’t see it through the helmet.

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