Page 70 of Ski You Later
He looks back at me with disbelief, but the tension that slowly releases from his frame doesn’t go unnoticed.
Frankly, I’m just as nervous as him about this whole thing. Preparing myself to let his words infiltrate a piece of me I’ve been keeping closed this whole time is a scary thought.
Locking his eyes with mine, his face solidifies as if finally settling the debate within himself.
His free hand reaches across and gently grabs mine. The gentle manner in which he holds me does nothing but further weaken my resolve, and I prepare myself to enter this exchange with my walls down.
Taking a big breath, Roman makes the first move to end our fake relationship. “Let me take you out on a real date. This Friday.” His eyes are the closest to pleading that I’ve ever seen them, but I say nothing as I wait for him to continue. “I tried my best to respect your space and keep this whole thing fake because of your past. But I want more. I want there to be an us in private, just you and me, Rhodes and Roman.”
His warm fingers engulf my hands as he genuinely looks at me, and the hope in his gaze is palpable. He must see the hesitation on my face, and he keeps going before I can voice my thoughts. “Give meone chance. Then if it is a total disaster, we’ll keep this fake-dating going until the wedding.”
With the guarantee he’s going to the wedding with me, my reasons for saying no are dwindling by the minute. “Promise you will come to the wedding, no matter what?” I ask with skepticism heavily laced in my voice.
“I promise you, Rhodes.” His tone is as serious as I’ve ever heard it, and I can feel the last foundation of my defence crumble.
I extend my hand toward him in a very dramatic display as I smile shyly at him. “Then it’s a deal,” I say.
His hand lightly clasps my own, turning it upward and bringing it close to his face. Keeping his eyes locked with mine, his lips brush my knuckles delicately. “Then it’s a date.”
The smoke from the curling iron brings me back to reality, and I drop the strand of hair before I go on my first date as a bald woman. The blonde lock falls down my front, and I’m just relieved that the curl looks to be the right shape.
I have one more section of hair clipped up, which I make quick work of. The trembling in myfingers brings a smidge of concern to the forefront of my brain, but I choose to ignore it as I move to my closet.
First date. First real date with Roman. Roman is taking me on a date. That is real.
I breathe in a deep breath and try to center myself. We got back to the city late Sunday night and haven’t talked too much since then. Everyone’s always majorly behind in school after a race weekend, so I’m not surprised by the little contact. We texted a little back and forth, but I guess we both agreed to save on conversations for Friday.
Snapping myself back to the present, I decide I’d better keep it casual and dress for any occasion. Roman’s text just said to be ready at seven and not to eat beforehand. That didn’t help me at all when it came to picking out an outfit, but any further inquiries I made just resulted in a question mark being sent back to me.
I try to let my excitement overpower my fear as I rifle through all the options before me. Not once did my ex ever plan a date, let alone have the desire to keep it a secret.
It’s that thought that pulls me back into the present, and I stare at my floor in thought. If I’m truly going to give this a real chance, it’s officially the end of ever thinking about my ex. I have to create newexperiences, and not compare every aspect of this night to my past date nights. I look at myself in the mirror and let the resolve settle in my bones.
My safest choice is something I feel comfortable in, so I go with a short plaid skirt, my dark brown turtleneck, and chunky gold jewelry. My thick tights are a life saver for the colder climate, and I decide to finish the look with my boots that sit right under my knee.
Walking out of my room, I find Aurora lying horizontal on the couch, watching whatever new action movie released on our streaming service. She’s wearing comfy sweats that I envy as I plop down beside her.
“Oh, you look so cute! Let me see the whole look. Do a twirl!” She pushes the popcorn out of her lap and sits up fully to look at me.
Aurora successfully makes me smile and I bounce off the couch to give her a spin. The short skirt gives a cute little lift as I turn, and my best friend proceeds to put both fingers in her mouth and whistles.
“Stop,” I admonish. “I’m already so nervous; I don’t need your whistling.”
“My whistling is the exact thing you need right now to get you hyped up!” She shoots up off the couch as she says this and proceeds to throw her hands in the air. I try to let her excitement infect me, but the nervescoursing through my body win as they start to give me a stomach ache.
Aurora must see my queasy expression because she seems to sober up and come close to me. “Rho, I’m going to be really honest with you right now.” Pulling me in by my elbows, we both sit to face each other on the couch. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, because you’ve basically been dating this whole time.”
She says this in such a matter-of-fact way that it takes a minute for me to process her words. “What? What are you even talking about?”
Aurora gives me an unimpressed stare, as if I’m the ridiculous one. “Honey, all the guy does is find random excuses to be around you.”
“Yeah, so everyone would be convinced that we were dating,” I counter.
“Well then, I think he might have done too good of a job. That boy has a bad case of the Rhodes fever.” Aurora laughs hysterically at her own joke as I throw my couch pillow at her.
“Just admit it, this is a safe space!” She screams as she moves, putting the coffee table between us.
“There is nothing to admit!” I yell back as I stand in defence.
