Page 64 of Revive Me

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what to do with myself, alright? I don’t have anything outside of MMA.”

My thoughts flash back to our very first conversation that night on the roof. We had a similar conversation then, him asking me about my hobbies and me realizing he had none. The only interest he mentioned was?—

“What about school?” I blurt out. “Have you thought about going back?”

Roman blinks at me, clearly shell-shocked by the turn in conversation. “Have I…what?”

“School. You had said you were really good at it but that you didn’t go to college because that’s when you started taking fighting seriously. You could always go back, find new interests.”

I canseehis head spinning as he tries to catch up to the current topic. “So just…go back to school,” he says in a disbelieving voice. “As if I’m an eighteen-year-old.”

“Why not? Plenty of people go back to school later in life. And don’t act like you’re not still in your twenties.”

He turns an angry glare on me, finally giving me a real reaction. “I’m not twenty-one,” he spits out. “I’d stand out, no matter what. Plus, it wouldn’t take long for someone to recognize me and spread it all over campus that the former contender-turned-nobody is now spending his Saturday nights in the library studying the Civil War.”

Civil War. That’s right; he likes history.

But instead of latching on to that fact and driving my point home, I quirk an eyebrow and say, “So now you’re too good for schoolandtoo arrogant. Nice.”

“That’s not—” Roman exhales his exasperation. “Of course, I’m not too good for school. It’s just…not a good idea for me.”

I push a little harder. “Why not? You said it yourself, it’s not like you’re doing anything else right now. You could do an online undergrad program and get your degree. Figure out what you like and go from there. Find a new career the same way twenty-year-olds find their first one.”

I know I’m getting through to him when he doesn’t answer, he just glares at me in annoyance.

“I think you’d do great as a history major,” I comment casually.

His eyes might actually bug out of his head. “Awhat?Where did that come from?”

I shrug. “You just seem to like history.”

His baffled expression doesn’t fade an ounce. “So…because I can appreciate a good history documentary, obviously I need to go to college to make a whole new career out of it. Makes sense.”

I sigh, knowing I’ve reached the end of this argument and that there’s no way I’m winning it. Today, at least.

Which is okay, because I’m suddenly hit with an idea so perfect, I have to actively fight against wiggling in excitement.

Instead, I stand and wipe my pants down. “Alright, fine, forget I said anything. It was just a stupid idea.”

He relaxes at that, but only slightly. There’s still a flicker of suspicion in his gaze.

“So…Saturday then?” he asks. “Are we doing strength or gait training?”

“Strength,” I answer, restarting my cleanup of the FES pads. But then I snap my fingers and turn to look at Roman again, as if something just occurred to me. “Oh, before I forget. Wanna grab dinner with me this week?”

He blinks at me. Then again.

“Are you on drugs?” he finally asks.

A huge grin splits my face. “Nope. Just using my patented physical therapy method. What do you say?”

“You’re serious,” he says. Not a question.

“I told you, I’ve never lied to you,” I answer.

His eyes narrow slightly. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now.”

“Nothing’s happening. We’ll just hang out for a little, have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around muscles or sensation. That’s it. It’ll be fun.”

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