Page 18 of Destined for the Devil
"What kind of job?"
"Um. A medical receptionist. I didn't finish school, so...that's all I cando for now." Shit, it was best to just forget about that last part, not start telling everyone.
Roman crossed his arms and turned toward me, all his attention on what I was doing. "What did you study, and how come you didn't finish school?"
Oh fuck. I really didn't want to talk about it.
"Medicine. It didn't work out." I tried to shut down the conversation and refocused on the clothes on the bed, grabbing a hanger.
"You were in med school? And you dropped out of that? Because it didn't work out?" he asked me in clear disbelief of my reasoning.
I met his intense stare, having zero energy to explain the reason behind it all. Roman’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was waiting…waiting for me to tell him what happened. But no. No. That was in the past. That's why I moved states—so I could forget about it and start fresh, even if the start was beyond rocky.
"Mm-hmm. It didn't work out. Anyway, do you think I should wear white? But that's a bit of a problem since you didn't actually buy me any bras that wouldn't show under white. Or a black blouse? Keep in mind, it will be hot as fuck tomorrow." I tried to rant on as much as possible, focusing the clothes in front of me.
Roman just stood there like a tree, observing the blouse in my hands. What? What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he so sad about my interview? I thought he'd be happy to hear I'm trying to get on my feet so quickly.
"What's wrong?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.
"Nothing. I think you should wear black. It accentuates your eyes, and also, no one will stare at your chest since I'm such a bad shopper."
Without saying another word, he turned on his heels and quickly walked out of the room. I stared after him, surprised at his sudden transformation. He walked into my room full of energy and walked outlooking angry.
A little lost at his change of attitude, I forced myself to move past the interaction. The truth was that I didn’t know Roman. Yes, we’d spent so much time together by now. Yes, he was kind and generous and so sweet. And yes, at this point, I was honest with myself:I waswaymore attracted to him than I should have been.
But it was best to just distance myself, get a job, and move out as quickly as possible and moveon.I needed to get my life back on track. Eventually, I’d go back to school, and that would beit; the door to my tragic past would forever be closed.
After his silent departure, Roman mostly stayed in his room the rest of the afternoon, and like usual, I made my way to the kitchen to make dinner around six in the evening. I liked cooking. I liked cookingfor him.
I stirred the pasta sauce, deep in thought about the interview tomorrow, when I heard a slight shuffle behind me, startling all my senses. I whipped around to see Roman sitting at the kitchen island, watching me. The wooden spoon jumped out of my hands and landed at my feet with a loud clatter, splashing pasta sauce all over the floor and white cabinets.
"Roman! Can you please announce your presence!"
“Sorry.”
He didn’t sound sorry in the slightest! I grabbed a paper towel and got down on my knees to wipe the sauce before it dried up, but in my peripheral vision, his legs suddenly appeared beside me, and slowly, he came to stand right in front of me.
Still on my hands and knees, I lifted up my head to see his dominant gazeincinerating me.Oh, fuck no. The view from here was too good. I couldnotthink of that. I could not engage in these thoughts.
As if burned by his stare, I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped my head, focusing on the sauce on the floor.
Just focus on the tomato sauce.
But Roman didn’t move an inch, so in a panic, I blurted out, "Are you going to help me or watch me like a creep?"
"Watch you." The response came immediately; he didn’t even have to think about it. My face blazed. In fact, every inch of me was on fire from his relentless stare while I was on my hands and knees in front of him. But I focused on the sauce, the sauce,the sauce—almost done!
But when the last of the pasta sauce made it onto the paper towel, I realized I wouldn’t be able to stand up like usual; the scars on the back of my thighs were still too recent. I rose up onto my knees, and my face landed right at his crotch.
Wonderful. I hadn't actually engaged in oral sex in literal years, but I loved doing it, and oh my God, was this turning me the fuck on.
"You need help?"
Of course I needed help! A second of silence ticked by us, but I raised my eyes to his, the view fucking phenomenal.
Don’t think of it, don’t think of it; think of anything else!
I nodded, hoping to somehow vanish into thin air.
