Page 5 of My Irish Roommate

“Yes, it was. Thank you for sticking up for me,” she tells me.

“I don’t think it’s your mother’s place to force you to tell me your business, but now that we’re alone, I would like to know what she was getting at. Were you in some kind of trouble back home?”

“It’s nothing serious and won’t interfere with your life. You don’t need to worry about that.”

I can sense that she’s hiding something. I need to know what it is so I press her further.

“If we’re going to live together for the next few months, we need to be open and honest with each other. Look around you. This place is too small for us to have secrets.”

She sighs and gnaws her bottom lip. “When I was in college in New York, I met a guy. We only went on three dates and I decided that I didn’t want to see him anymore. I told him and he lost it. He became obsessed with getting me back. He called so much that I had to change my number. He hung around my dorm, so I moved to a new one but he found me there, too.

“It got so bad that I had to call the police and get a restraining order, but that didn’t stop him from following me around. He just stayed more than fifty feet away. I was so happy to move back to Boston when I graduated. I thought that the move would finally get him off my back, but it didn’t.

“One month after moving home, I went out for a jog and saw him in the park taking pictures of me. I even saw him in the lobby of my apartment building. Then, one night after I went out with friends, he approached me at my car. He got rough with me and I had to scream for help.”

“Some men from the bar heard me and came to my rescue chasing him away,” she continues. “That was the last straw for me so I called my mother the next day and asked if there was any way I could move here. She spoke to you, and I began selling all of my belongings so I could afford a plane ticket.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. The more she tells me, the higher my blood pressure rises. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I tilt my head up and close my eyes. Fury washes me in waves. I’m still a little tipsy and can’t control my reaction.

“Did you sleep with him?” I just blurt out.

“What? Why does that matter?” She's shocked by how forward I am. She has no idea how forward I can be.

“It matters to me. Did you sleep with him?”

“No, never. I told you that we only went out three times,” she answers.

“And this is why you want to learn self-defense? In case this nutcase flies here after you?”

“Yes, I just want to know that I can protect myself if something bad happens.”

“You won’t need to protect yourself. As long as you’re here, I’ll protect you.”

“But you won’t be with me all the time. What if I go shopping or to a movie? Are you going to follow me to make sure no one else is following me?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes.”

“Why would you do that? You’ve just met me. I might technically be your stepsister, but I’m nothing to you,” she challenges me.

I grab her and pull her against me. “You could be everything to me,” I say and press my lips against hers. She gasps but doesn’t pull away. I take that as a cue to continue. I cup the back of her head and deepen the kiss.

When we break apart, she lingers in my arms for a moment then replies, “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m not drunk and there isn’t enough wine in the world to change what I’m feeling. When you walked in the door, I knew this was going to happen. I wanted to fight it, but I can’t. I don’t want you to be my stepsister, Ricki. I want you to be my girl.”

As I regain my senses, I realize that this aggressive confession of my feelings was very ill-timed. She’s just told me that a man is obsessed with her and I confess that I, too, am obsessed with her.

If she grabbed her bags and walked out the door, I couldn’t blame her. Holding my breath, I wait for her reaction. It seems like an eternity has passed when she finally begins to speak.

“I like you, too, but maybe we should slow things down. I don’t want to ruin things by moving too quickly. And I still want martial arts training. Can we start in the morning like you said?”

“Of course, we can, little one. Anything you want,” I reply.

She smiles and kisses me again and says, “Thank you. Good night.”

I lie in bed and watch her climb under her covers, wondering how long it will take for sleep to come for me. I kissed her and she kissed me back. That’s huge but she also asked me to take it slow.

How am I supposed to do that? I’m not the type of guy who sits back and lets life happen to me. When something feels this right, you grab onto it with both hands and you don’t let go.

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