Teaching Roman (5 page)

"Shit, I forgot." Cassie skipped back to her room and came out with a stack of clothes. The tiny red bikini on top.

"All of this?"

"Yours," she said. "I overpacked. Look, I'm sorry if I flipped out earlier. You're right. I should drop the joking about Roman."

"But you aren't going to?" I guessed.

"Oh, hell no, but I’ll keep in mind that I might piss you off if I do."

“I’m sorry, too,” I said. “I overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t. I just...don’t like Brett.”

Part of me wanted to pour out the dilemma I was facing to her. That Brett wanted to get married and I wanted to pretend he’d never asked and go back to my safe, boring life where I wasn’t masturbating in the shower at the thought of my off-limits professor. But I’d already stuck my foot in it once. I wasn’t sure how Cassie would react to finding out Brett had proposed to me on the night that Trevor had cheated on her.

Instead I said, “Noted.”

“Get dressed.” Cassie swatted my ass. “I’m starving and I want a drink.”

That made two of us.

A
pparently Cassie was going to drink away her memories of Trevor. Cassie's dinner consisted of a bit of rice and three margaritas, so it was up to me to find somewhere to purchase necessities while keeping her upright, which was proving to be no easy feat. Deciding to venture out to find a convenience store to stock up on what Cassie called the "essentials," we traipsed down the street, following the directions of the concierge. Basically we were making a booze run, but Cassie was too classy to call it that. The nearby bodega was packed with tourist essentials, and there was wine and a toothbrush. Score.

"How many nights are we here?" Cassie asked. "Six? So we need what, 20 bottles?"

"I think your math is a little drunk," I said, taking a bottle out of her hands before she fell on it.

"One more Moscato?"

"Fine." I grabbed a bottle off the shelf and placed it in our basket, which already felt like it was going to rip my arm off.

"Let me pay," I told her. Trevor's credit card had seen enough damage. I shooed her outside before she tried to whip it out anyway.

A minute later, our necessities were purchased and I ducked out the door as my phone buzzed in my pocket. There were texts from Jillian and Brett. I ignored Brett's, because it stank of desperation and included a short bullet point list of all the reasons why "our break" was totally unfair to him. Scrolling down, I read Jills' text and smiled.

JILLIAN:
You aren't going to believe what Tara told me she got Liam for Christmas. Deets later.

I could imagine what Tara thought was an appropriate gift for her daughter's boyfriend based on years of Jillian's own Christmas presents. One year she'd given her a self-help book on coping with life-altering illness. Nothing says happy holidays like a reminder that you’re sick. I texted her back to say we'd call her tomorrow and when I looked up, Cassie was nowhere to be seen.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I'd lost track of Cassie. Strike that. I'd lost track of a drunk and angry Cassie. This could spell the end of times.

Darting around the corner, bags clutched desperately against my hips, I searched the next street for her with no luck. I'd only been distracted for a minute.

I walked another block, but she was nowhere to be seen. Most of the shops were closed and the only other people out were American tourists.

"
Loca
!” The cry was followed by a stream of angry Spanish. Cassie couldn’t be too far.

I sprinted in the direction of the cry and discovered Cassie ripping apart a copy of what looked to be a Spanish bridal magazine.

"No," she said, tearing off the cover and stomping on it. "I don't want to plan the wedding of my dreams!"

"Cassie," I said. "Come on, honey. You don't want to do this."

"Yes, I do." She spit on the now destroyed magazine for good measure.

Behind me the operator of the news stand unleashed another torrent of Spanish that I couldn’t begin to keep up with—
but
I did understand the word
policía
. I held up my hands and shook my head, struggling to remember any of my high school Spanish. He gestured around the street, and I realized Cassie had gone on a spree. Dozens of magazine pages littered the sidewalk in front of the stand. She might not actually speak Spanish but she’d managed to destroy every magazine that hinted at love or couples or happiness.

“Cassie, give me your purse,” I said, but she ignored me, so I snatched it off her shoulder.

“Hey!” She lunged for it, but I held her back.

I held up a finger. “Do not test me right now.”

Cassie was going to get her ass thrown in Mexican jail. Hell, she was probably going to get both of our asses thrown in jail. Pulling out the credit card I waved it at the shop owner.

“Para,” I said, pointing to the damage.

His grimace sank further and he slapped a small sign that hung near him.

Únicamente efectivo.

I couldn’t read that, but I could read the translation scrawled below it.
Cash only.

Crap. Digging through Cassie’s wallet turned up, a few pesos, a condom, and some business cards. Of course, that’s all she would be carrying on her right now.

I offered the man the pesos, and he laughed.

“Cien pesos,” he said.

I shook my head that I didn’t have it and he produced a cell phone. “Policía.”

“No! No! No! Un minute,” I said, resolving on the spot to buy Spanish language software as soon as I got back to Olympic Falls. If I ever managed to get back there. I couldn’t help but think that I might wind up wasting away here. Scrambling into my own bag, I searched until I found Roman’s business card and dialed his number before I could think better of it. He was the only Spanish speaker I knew here, and the best shot I had at getting us out of this.

It rang twice before he picked up. “Hello?”

“Oh thank god,” I said.

“Jess?”

“I’m so sorry to call you like this, but I don’t know what else to do and Cassie’s going to wind up in Mexican prison and possibly me too—”

“Slow down,” Roman said. “Where are you?”

I looked up and repeated the cross streets to him.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he promised.

“Roman,” I said before he could hang up, “can you bring one hundred pesos?”

Roman arrived in a pair of white linen pants and a gray t-shirt, confirming my fear that I’d interrupted his evening. He’d clearly been with his grandmother, relaxing, and now he had to deal with two former students. But his casual attire coupled with his perfect body made him look more like a movie star than anyone had a right to, especially a teacher. There was a casual confidence to his walk, and he flashed me a quick smile as he began speaking in swift Spanish to the shop owner.

“He says he’s going to call the police if the damaged magazines aren’t paid for,” Roman explained.

“I know,” I said. “But he won’t take a credit card and we don’t have enough cash. I considered running for it, but Cassie is a tad sauced.”

Roman’s eyes darted to Cassie who was draped across me for support. “So I see.”

He turned and spoke for another few minutes with the shop owner before he pulled a few bills from his pocket and handed them over.

“It’s dealt with,” he said, returning his attention to me.

“Thank you." I exhaled in relief. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. She's suffering from temporary, post-break-up insanity.”

“Don’t worry about,” he said. “I couldn’t let you wind up in Mexican jail.”

“Fuck jail,” Cassie slurred. She tried to take a step forward on her own, but she misjudged her ability to walk, catching her foot on the pavement and crashing toward the cement. Roman caught her around the waist and pulled her into his arms.

“Where to?” he asked me.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I can get her back.”

“I won’t sleep tonight if I’m worried about you,” he said. His voice was soft and deep, leaving me dizzy.

“We’re not far.”

“Great, in which direction is not far?”

I could tell he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “We’re two blocks that way.”

I hadn’t been here long enough to have a strong sense of direction, and I really hoped I wasn’t about to get us all lost.

Gathering up the bags Cassie had dropped when she went on her rager and my own bags, I led him toward our hotel.

“I’m really sorry,” I said again.

“Stop apologizing or I’m going to have to punish you,” he said.

My breath hitched in my throat. I was sure I wasn’t imagining the suggestive tone of his voice. I pushed it aside and laughed. “Okay, but at least let me get you a drink.”

“Are you asking me to have a drink with you?”

I felt his gaze on me, and I wanted to melt in the heat of his eyes.

“Yes, I am,” I said, mustering as much confidence as I could.

“We’d better get her into bed first,” he said, hoisting Cassie up a little higher. She’d fallen asleep, her face pressed against his shoulder. I was insanely jealous of her in that moment. I wanted to press my face against that shoulder. “Is this it?”

His question called me back to reality. We were standing in front of the hotel. I waved for him to follow me past the main entrance and towards the beach. “We’re back here.”

The row of villas was relatively quiet and the beach was deserted now that it was dark. I unlocked the front door and Roman carried Cassie to her bed while I shoved the stuff we bought into the fridge.

“Give me a sec with her,” I said, coming into Cassie’s room.

“I’ll be on the patio.”

He was being cautious, choosing to wait outside my hotel room to maintain a semblance of propriety.

When he left, I tucked Cassie’s covers around her and turned her on to her side in case she got sick. I’d need to check on her later to make sure she was okay. It was hardly the first time I’d been on alcohol poisoning duty. Everyone always expects the pre-med student to handle that. She hadn't drank enough to be in real danger, but her stomach was empty. Booze and no food was always a bad combination.

Tomorrow Cassie was getting a lecture. She couldn’t let Trevor affect her this deeply. I sat next to her for a moment, brushing her hair back from her face while gathering the courage to go outside. Something in my gut told me the second I walked out of this room and back to Roman, nothing would ever be the same.

A
s soon as I was sure Cassie was one hundred percent passed out and in no danger of more drunken shenanigans, I slipped onto the patio. The night air had dropped, making me feel like I was home again. It was cool enough that I wrapped my arms around myself as the breeze blew shivers into my skin. The moon shimmered on the glassy surface of the ocean, just bright enough to reveal Roman lounging against the wall. He took a hesitant step towards me as I came outside. We both stopped short of each other, maintaining a safe, classroom-appropriate distance.

“Is she okay?” he asked.

“She will be,” I promised him. “Boy troubles.”

“We are trouble,” Roman said. He grinned at me, his teeth whiter against his tan face in the dark. For a moment I imagined flicking my tongue across those teeth. The thought sent heat to my cheeks, but thankfully it was too dark for him to see me blush. Thinking like that was going to get me into trouble.

“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” I told him.

“If only I could get all 3 billion of us on the same page.” He shrugged a perfect what-can-you-do-about-it shrug.

“I’ll be happy to find a couple of men who share that attitude,” I said. “It would save my friends and I a lot of heartache.”

“Sounds like Cassie isn’t the only one dealing with boy trouble.”

That was the problem with having a conversation with Roman. He was trained in the art of communication. He picked up on the littlest signals or the most innocent word choice. Not that I had boy trouble per se. I was pretty sure flaking out on a nice, dependable guy who wanted to marry you didn’t qualify as a problem by most people’s standards.

Part of me wanted to open my mouth and spill the truth about me and Brett to someone. I could tell Roman. He was a fantastic listener, and he’d been so patient when I went to him for help with Jillian a few weeks ago, but this felt different and that was the problem. The feelings that prevented me from opening up to Roman about Brett were far from academic or professional.

“Solidarity,” I said instead. It was both the truth and a lie at the same time. I felt my best friends’ heartbreaks as acutely as I had ever felt during any of my own break-ups, and right now I was too consumed with Cassie's sadness to really think about Brett.

“You’re a good friend.” Roman paused and his eyes flicked to the path that had brought us back to our villa. “I should go. I wanted to be sure everything was under control.”

“I’ve got this. Don’t worry." But even as I spoke I didn’t want him to go. A variety of ways to keep him here flashed through my mind. I could set an accidental fire or faint or offer him that drink. Inviting him to stay for a drink seemed like the least dramatic or dangerous way to keep him from leaving.

“Can I get you that drink?” I asked. “Since I ruined your night.”

“I was home reading,” Roman assured me. “The only thing you ruined was my loneliness.”

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped over when he mentioned he was lonely, and went inside to grab a bottle of wine. My hands shook while I rummaged through the drawers for a corkscrew. I finally found it and dropped it on the floor. Thankfully Cassie was passed out or I probably would have woken her. Nothing short of a nuclear strike would get through to her right now. I’d played nurse to her drunk-ass enough times to know that.

“So was it a bad book?” I asked, hoping that I looked casual as I brought him out a glass of wine.

“Why would you think that?”

“I usually don’t feel lonely when I’m reading a good book." In fact, when I cheated on my textbooks and let myself read a romance novel or the latest bestseller, I was barely aware of my own existence.