Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
It’s been a month since I’ve been back to school from Christmas break, and while we talk every day, the ache of knowing I’m no longer his, that he’s not mine, is still a jagged beat in my chest. Its uneven rhythm is my new reality. One that I’m still learning how to live with.
There’s a part of me that wants to call my brother and confess it all. I want to tell him I’m madly in love with one of his best friends. I want to scream at him for scaring Roman into thinking that he would never be good enough for me.
My phone rings. I reach for it expecting for it to be Roman, but it’s Forrest. I hesitate before hitting Decline, sending the call to voice mail. I get an immediate text message.
* * *
Forrest: Didn’t need anything. Just wanted to check in with you. Haven’t talked to you in far too long, kid.
Me: I’m good. Just busy wrapping up getting geared up for graduation. Lots to do.
Forrest: I’m so proud of you, Emerson. I see big things for you.
* * *
All I see for me is Roman, but I can’t say that.
I send back a heart emoji and toss my phone onto my bed. I hate that I’m mad at him. He’s guilty and doesn’t even realize he’s done anything wrong. That’s wrong of me, and I need to do better.
Pushing my brother and Roman out of my mind, I need to focus on myself. That’s all I can do. I gotta do me, and what I have to do is graduate. That means I must make my study group that starts in half an hour at the café just down the street from campus.
Climbing off my bed, I gather everything I need in my backpack and head out.
“There she is,” Sally says when I walk into the café. “We thought maybe you were standing us up.”
“Nope. I need to pass this class.”
“Don’t we all,” Gabe says, setting a cup in front of Sally and nodding toward the counter. “Want anything?”
“Not right now. Thanks, though.”
“All right, ladies and gents, let’s do this,” Allen says. He rubs his hands together before flipping open his textbook.
The four of us get busy. Surgical anatomy is going to be the death of me. We spend the next hour quizzing each other and coming up with different ways and silly sayings to remember the material.
“I need caffeine.” I push back from the table. “Anyone need anything?” I ask, grabbing my wallet out of my backpack.
“Me.” Adam hands me some cash. “Large black, extra strong,” he mutters.
“Got it. Hot lava coming up.”
I make my way to the counter and order Adam’s large black and a hot vanilla latte for me. I hand over Adam’s money for his and then pay for mine with the gift card that Roman got me. He keeps adding money to it, even when I tell him not to. I’m no longer his to spoil, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him.
When I get back to the table, Gabe hands me my phone. “Sorry, Em, I thought it was mine. It’s for you.” He grins.
“Hello.”
“Baby girl. Who was that?” Roman asks.
I hold up my finger to the group, letting them know I’ll be right back. With my latte in hand, I step outside in the freezing cold to talk to my “friend.”
“That was Gabe. I’m at study group. I was getting a latte that you paid for, by the way. Thanks for that, but, Roman, you have to stop.”
“I can’t, Em. I can’t stop. I don’t know how.” He sounds pained, and I feel that hurt in the center of my chest. “Is he the one who helped you fix your flat tire?”
“Good memory.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?”
“That this guy is getting so close to you.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “He’s not getting close to me. He’s a classmate. We’re on the same graduation track for surgical tech. He lives in Nashville. We have geography in common as well as our major.”
“And he’s your age. I’m sure Forrest would approve,” he grumbles.
“Guess what, Rome? Neither one of you gets a say in what I do. I’m an adult. I’m single the last time I checked.” I toss that out in anger, and I hate that I do, but I can’t take the words back. “My life. My choices.”
He’s quiet on the other end. I can hear him breathing, but he’s not saying a word. Finally, he whispers, “You’re right.”
“I hate that I am, Roman. I hate that I can’t get over you.”
“Get over me? It’s been a handful of weeks.”
“It’s been a month, Rome.”
“Feels like a lifetime.”
There is so much that I could say. That he didn’t want to fight for us, for me, but that’s not exactly the truth. Roman would throw down for me. He wouldn’t hesitate. He thinks that keeping us apart is fighting for me. Not us, for me. He’s doing this for me, and I need to keep reminding myself of that. This is what he thinks is best.