Page 89 of Catch Me
“We gonna run for it?” I asked.
“Is there another option?”
“We could drive.”
It looked like he considered it, but he broke into a smile. “Teamwork or competition?”
I snorted, refusing to dignify that with a response. Once I got the tent unzipped, I darted outside. I slipped in the mud and barely stayed on my feet. Roman laughed from ahead of me, which was all the encouragement I needed to get my ass in gear.
It was easier when we reached the asphalt, but it wasn’t kept in good shape. Potholes, sections raised by roots, and puddles were all obstacles that we had to veer around or jump over. I leapt across a large well of water, and Roman nearly ran into me.
“Fuck off!” he shouted.
“You bumped me!”
“You’re a crazy bastard.”
“Lie down with dogs and get up with fleas,” I said before I shoved him to the side.
I sped up when I saw the small building. Roman tried to block me from passing him, and I pushed against his arm. I couldn’t slow down for fear of him beating me, so I continued at full speed, then caught myself with my hands against the wall. He ended up right next to me, and when I looked at him, his face was only inches from mine. Neither of us moved as we caught our breath, and just like when we woke up, we stared at each other.
With his hair wet, it hung just past the tops of his ears. Water dripped down his face, curving around the angles of it. I watched a drop detach from his hairline and travel the length of his nose. It was impossible to tell what was sweat and what was rain, but it didn’t matter. He looked incredibly handsome either way.
I wanted to stop the path of one drop heading toward his lips, but I kept my hands to myself. Most of the time, I made it a point not to touch him, aside from a few slips. He’d asked me not to on the way to his first meeting with Pete, and I respected that, which was why I froze when he touched my jaw with his thumb. He moved upward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
It didn’t matter, but I wanted to dig into the things that went on inside his head. What was he hiding in there, and was it more from others or himself? I had a good idea, obviously, but I wasn’t interested in speculation and the claims of other people who didn’t know the real man behind the mask.
When his hand fell to his side, I shifted to lean my shoulder against the wall. “You don’t have a girlfriend back home, Roman?”
He tensed, then blinked a few times. “No.”
“With all your qualifications? I don’t believe it.”
“What are my qualifications?”
“Master artist, you stay super fit . . . Objectively, you’re attractive.”
His lips twitched. “Objectively, I’m also an asshole.”
“That’s true, but I’ve had an insider look.”
“Tell me what you think you see.”
“More.”
He cocked his head. “More what?”
“Just more. You’re a whole person, and I wonder who’s seen even a fraction of it.”
“Mm. I’d rather they didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“You’re single too,” he noted, ignoring my question. “Are you anti-relationship?”
“No, I’m just bad at them.”
He laughed lightly. “Bad at them? Tell me how.”
