Page 83 of RomeAntically Challenged
“Not really.”
“You sure?” he asked. “Because someone once told me that roommates need to be open and honest with each other, in case something happens. What happened, Goldilocks?”
“Is my being your roommate the only reason you want to know?”
“No. I want to know because I like you.” He noticed her eyes were puffy from a recent cry, which gutted him. “A lot.”
“I just spent the whole night being reminded that I don’t fit in.” Her voice was soft and full of exasperated suffering, which he knew she’d never actually verbalize. “I went to the potluck so excited to find a deep connection, only to be smacked in the face with how different I am. I didn’t connect. At all.” She let out a laugh that was too close to a sob for his comfort. “I didn’t even have the right words to begin to connect. Literally, they were all speaking Vietnamese, so I sat in the corner, acting like that shy little In-Bee I worked so hard to leave behind.”
“In-Bee?”
She paused for a moment, as though trying to figure out if he was messing with her or being serious. “You know, someone who got stuck in between? Always battling people’s expectations and my reality. Half the time, I feel like a big fake.”
He shook his head. “You are as real as they come. That you care so much makes you uniquely Ann.”
“Being unique is exhausting and always comes with disclaimers and explanations. Sometimes I just want to be like everyone else so when I walk into a room I don’t have to play Twenty Questions before getting to the standard Get to Know You ones. Because no matter which side is asking, I’m never going to live up to their first impression.”
“You exceeded mine in the first ten minutes, and you continue to amaze me,” he said. Even in the limited light of the moon, he could see the tears pooling on her lashes, one blink from spilling over.
“When I walked into that room of women, they assumed I spoke Vietnamese, and when they realized I didn’t, I explained that my parents didn’t neglect their cultural duties; they’re just white. Which led to the whole adopted part of the story, where they told me how lucky I was that I was picked, which made me think about all of the kids who weren’t picked. And what it was that made me pickable so I keep doing that and not disappoint my parents. Maybe it was a onetime thing I happened to do, and Mom was like, ‘Did you see that, Marty? She laughed just like my mom used to. She’s the one!’ But I don’t really laugh like that, so maybe they feel conned, which ultimately leads me to the reminder that in order to be picked someone had to discard me first.”
She took a breath, jerky and trembling, and his heart clenched. Because when she’d said “discard” she looked embarrassed and a little lost and, the part that really slayed him, as if she believed she was truly discardable, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. She had the kind of heart that, if one was lucky enough to receive even the smallest piece of, deserved to be protected and treasured forever.
“I know this all sounds crazy and I’m probably scaring you off,” she said.
“You don’t sound crazy, and if a stiletto torpedo didn’t scare me off, nothing you do ever can,” he whispered. “You mentioned the other side—what do they do when they meet you?”
“When I walk into a room of white people and they learn that I don’t have fly chopstick skills or fall into some Asian stereotype, I have to explain that I was born in Vietnam but raised here in the states by white parents. The ‘white bread upbringing’ gives me enough cred that they take a chance getting to know me, but they should want to get to know me just because of me, not where I was born or what race my parents are. It’s like, I have to straddle two worlds, knowing I’m never going to be fully accepted or fit into either one.”
No wonder she worked so hard to please the people around her. Her life had been a nonstop battle to belong, where everyday encounters forced her to defend her own identity.
“You fit with me.” Taking the ice cream out of her hands and setting it on the island, he took her into his arms. “See, a perfect fit.”
She slid her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, holding on as if this was the most important hug of her life. Hell, it was for him. She fit so damn perfectly he never wanted to move, so he didn’t. Just stood there, silently holding her while his heart pounded against his chest. Her heart was doing some pounding of its own, fast and erratic, the tempo radiating through him.
“You’ve never asked about any of that. Why?” she whispered.
“None of that matters to me,” he murmured back, his voice a little huskier than before. “The moment you locked me out of my own room, I knew I wanted to learn everything there was to know about you.”
“You said I was crazy.”
“You always seem to leave out the cutie part,” he said. “And while I do love a cutie, I was even more intrigued by the woman who tried to kill me in my own house, then lectured me and locked me out of my bedroom. Independent, real, honest, strong—and stubborn enough to call me on my shit even after you realized I was your landlord.”
“You forgot smart.” Her fingers, which had been laced around his neck, slowly slid up through his hair.
“And sexy.” His fingers did some sliding too, down her back, lower and lower until he was reaching a line that, once crossed, could never be undone. “So incredibly sexy you have me stumbling over myself trying to impress you.”
It was dark so he couldn’t be certain, but he was pretty sure she was blushing—and staring at his mouth.
“For the record, you aren’t my landlord, you’re my roommate.” She shimmied toward the edge of the counter—and him—making this a seriousrun don’t walk toward that finish linekind of scenario, and he was just waiting for her to blow the whistle.
“We’re a whole lot more than roommates, Anh.”
“This would never work,” she said—against the side of his neck. “You’re all about grand gestures, and I’m into the little things.”
He pulled back enough that she had to lift her head. “Only because you’ve never had a gesture grand enough to be worthy of you. And for the record, I think this will work just fine.”
She seemed to have flipped to the same page as he, because she didn’t take her gaze from his lips. “Are you going to kiss me now?”
