Page 30 of Unexpected Company
He still won’t look at me, but I decide to finish up everything else before dealing with that.
“Go lie on the sofa, and I’ll change the sheets and then bring you something to eat.”
“You don’t have to,” he replies, his eyes down turned.
Lifting his chin so he’s looking up at me, I say, “I know. But I want to. Do you want me to take care of you?”
He nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly.
“Good, then do as I said and lie down.” I infuse a level of command in my voice and he turns on his heel and leaves the room.
I chop the leeks, onions and potatoes for lunch before clicking the kettle on. Then I place the vegetables along with water, stock, garlic, salt and pepper into the biggest pot I can find, and leave it on the stovetop to boil.
Opening the cupboard, I browse Roman’s selection of tea, trying to work out which he would pick for this time of day. With no milk, Earl Grey and Assam are both out – he’s already told me he likes those milky. My hand hovers over blood orange and cranberry before I take out the camomile.
In the back of my mind, I recall my grandmother making me a mug of this when I was ill. It’s a memory from so long ago, I’m surprised by the vividness of it. But then, it was the last time someone truly cared about me, so it’s a memory that sticks.
The kettle clicks then falls silent, indicating it’s reached boiling point. I put tea bags in two mugs, pour water over them and let the bag steep for exactly three minutes, as previously dictated to me by Roman. I never knew that there was a ‘perfect brewing time’ until I met him.
Carrying our drinks to the lounge, I find Roman curled up on the sofa, his heavy purple blanket draped over him. His eyes are closed and an instrumental festive tune is playing inthe background. The fire died down hours ago, but the electric heater is running, keeping the chill out of the air.
“Here you go.” I place the mug on the table in front of the sofa and Roman’s eyes open.
He sits up, tucks his legs beneath him and wraps both hands around the hot drink.
“Thank you.” He doesn’t look at me, just stares at the mug in his hand. Even when I perch next to him on the sofa, my hip brushing his leg, he doesn’t make eye contact.
“Roman,” I say sternly. “Look at me.”
Warm brown eyes peer up through thick black lashes.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
He sits straighter, taking a large sip of his tea, then shakes his head.
“Oh. I’m not embarrassed. I’m…I don’t know what the word is. Worried, maybe? I know I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. Not at all.”
He looks away from me again and I lean over and, with a hand on his cheek, nudge his face until we’re eye to eye.
“Why are you worried?”
He lowers his voice. “Because Ipeedon you.”
“That you did,” I reply, cocking my head to the side and tipping my lips into a grin. “But I encouraged you to.” His eyes widen, and he scoots closer, sliding his foot under my thigh.
“So you’re not upset or grossed out?”
“Short Stack,” I chuckle. “You know how you have that fantasy about a lumberjack – well, I don’t know the full story there – but you have a fantasy, right?
Roman leans forward. “I have a few, but yeah? Go on.”
“Well, I have one too. About –” I wave a hand in the general direction of the bathroom. “That.”
“Oh. Oh.Oh.Okay. Yes…hmm.”
Roman puts down his tea, takes mine from me, then climbs into my lap, straddling my waist. My hands hold on to his sides, one slipping beneath his hoodie to make contact with his skin. He’s still burning up, but his cheeks are no longer flaming red, and his eyes are brighter than they were earlier in the day.
“That’s hot,” he says, leaning his full weight on the tops of my legs. “If my body wasn’t rebelling against me right now, I’d be very turned on. Super turned on, actually.”
