Page 177 of Dance of Defiance
“I told you,” I hiss, my eyes slicing into him. “Roman, I don’t give afuckif you’re gay, bi, queer, straight,whatever! Idon’t fucking care!!”
“Then what the fuckdoyou care ab?—”
“I care if you’reMINE!!” I yell in his face, grabbing him by the neck of his t-shirt. “That's all!”
If this were the movies, and we were Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, all our bullshit and baggage would crash to the ground right now, and we’d collapse into each other’s arms.
But this isn’t a movie.
Roman goes silent, his eyes still wide, his jaw trembling. Cars splash by in the puddled streets, people rush home past the mouth of the alley, umbrellas and newspapers held over their heads.
But here, in this frozen moment between us, nothing happens at all.
I choke out a bitter, quiet laugh as I take one last drag on my cigarette and toss it away.
“I think that silence is all we need to hear,” I murmur, shaking my head. “This was doomed from the start, wasn’t it.”
“Val…”
God, do I love the way my name falls from his lips like a broken prayer. But it’s not enough, and we’re both too late.
“Have a good life, Roman,” I growl, turning to walk out of the alley.
A hand suddenly grabs my arm. I pause, half-turning and letting my gaze sweep over him.
Fuck.
Roman’s shaking all over, his face haggard and his eyes wide, like he’s literally on the brink of tears or a complete meltdown. I let myself turn fully, facing him as he stands there soaked and trembling.
Still silent.
My head slowly shakes side to side. “I can’t keep guessing,” I murmur, my gaze piercing into his.
His eyes close tightly. “Guessing what,” he chokes.
He gasps quietly when I grab his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “You fuckingknowwhat,” I growl. “I can’t read your fucking mind. Ineed you to tell me.”
His lower lip trembles as his eyes plead with me, so wide, so fearful, so fucking scared of taking that last step.
“I—I don’t know what you’re asking?—”
“Yes, you do,” I say quietly, stepping even closer, until my wet chest is pressed to his soaked shirt. “Roman…”
He takes a shaky breath, his eyes darting over my face.
“Do you want me to stay?” I growl.
“I—” He shudders. “I don’t want you to leave…”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He whimpers when I cup his jaw tighter, my eyes blazing into his as my thumb traces his bottom lip.
His throat works.
He trembles against me.
…He says nothing.
