Page 31 of When We Meet Again

Roman watches the yacht rock subtly in the rippling water until I see him look at me out of the corner of his eye. I turn to him, which closes some of the distance between us.

“You must have gotten that romance-y thing from your dad.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I allow the night he planned under the stars to seep a little more into my heart. He did that all for me. The motorcycle ride, the line dancing. All for me.

He turns to look at me and his gaze falls to my lips. Like they have countless times before. My brain tells me to step away. To move back. But instead, my body leans ever-so-slightly forward, yearning for a kiss.

“Yep.” Now let’s get going before they leave without us.” He pops up off the bench, and no sooner than the words leave his mouth, I spot his parents waving from the top deck.Looks like the show’s about to hit the road… Or the sea, I guess.

As we begin to make our way down to the ramp, his parents come into clearer focus and I suddenly feel overdressed, or… over-layered. His mom’s wearing a navy-blue striped tankini; modest for a swimsuit, but also much more scantily clad than I’ve ever seen her. And his dad? Well, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks. With a surprisingly in-shape torso for a sixty-year-old. He must have gotten tips from Roman…

I subconsciously pull at the neck of my sweater, suddenly feeling slightly flustered, and feel Roman’s hand rest gently on my lower back.

“It’s strictly ‘relax’ attire on this trip. We’ll get you changed.”

We’ll?

Before I have any further time to translate the hidden meaning behind his words, Roman gently nudges me in the leg with my suitcase, urging me forward onto the deck. Except, I can’t.I can’t move. I can’t breathe. It’s hard to inhale. I feel myself start to tremble and I’m frozen in place.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

I look back at Roman. He drops the suitcases and pulls me back to the dock and over to a wooden bench on the dock.

“Come here. Sit,” he motions with one hand, “Lean down and put your head between your legs.”

I do what he tells me.Is this how I die?

“Breathe, Waverly.”

I always know when he’s serious, he calls me by my name and not the nickname he gave me all those years ago. And so, again, I follow his direction andbreathe.

He sinks next to me and begins to rub my back in slow, small circles until I’m able to sit up and take a long, deep breath.

“Any better?” he asks, sliding his hand from my back, but letting his fingertips linger on my skin. A wave of heat washes through me as I fight the urge to lean into his touch. Part of me wants to admit I’m not, to see if I could be comforted by more than his hand. But I nod in agreement, mainly because I’m embarrassed, and because we are being watched by literally everyone.

“Look at me, Kensi.” He tilts my chin to him so we’re eye to eye. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s notmeI’m worried about.” At least that much is true. I’m not worried about the ocean. I’m not worried about tsunamis. I’m worried that another person I love will die.Another person I love.That’s the first time I’ve admitted that.

My eyes widen and my mouth parts as I exhale hot air against the coastal breeze.Love.I couldn’t possibly love someone again. No love is worth that type of wreckage of one's heart. I take a few more deep breaths as I mentally steady.

Roman taps my shoulder gently, leans in, and rests his lips on the shell of my ear. “You don’t have to worry about me either. The cocky ones always die last. Look at Maverick.” He pulls away and puts his sunglasses on like the main character inTop Gun.I feel heat take over my cheeks and move to my chest. His corded arms extend and contract with every movement and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting a smile. “Enjoying the view?” A smirk spreads on his face.

“I was until your big head blocked it and you ruined it.” I stick my tongue out at him through my teeth, teasingly batting his arm with my hand.

“I ruined nothing.” He stands, puffs out his chest, and extends his hand to help me up. I never noticed how attractive his hands were. Large and tan, the veins popping out. Like he’s a man who isn’t afraid to use his hands. To work, that is.Definitely where my mind was. Age hasn’t caught up to him yet. And despite the sirens going off in my head, I take his hand. “Let’s get you on the boat before you decide to run back to the States.”

In response, he smacks his palm in mine and swings to his feet, "Aye-aye, Captain."

Our eyes lock for a moment, and our hands linger for just atouchlonger than necessary before he breaks away and turns his back, “I’ll have to issue you a dressing down if you make us late.”

Yes, please.

Jesus Christ, Waverly. Remember who this is. Patrick’s younger brother,Roman.Your friend,Roman.

“Roman,” I mutter under my breath.

“Roman!” That’s not my voice, but it sure is familiar.It’s not his mom or dad’s voice either. My eyes travel to the sound and see the source waving from where Roman’s parents had been standing only a few minutes earlier.

“Lena’shere?” I whisper, so that only Roman can hear.His ex is on the boat with us.Did he invite her?!“Did you not say she was moving out of your house and you were broken up?”

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