Just then, my phone buzzed, and I tried not to look too eager snatching it up. I heard the rattle of cutlery hitting the floor, and in my peripheral vision I saw Roman drop down to pick it up. But my focus was on the words in front of me. They swam in front of my eyes with a murderous rage.
Dina:That’s none of your business, Mr Thomas
My hand tightened on my phone before that anger gave way to amusement. Fucking brat.
Michael:We need to talk. I’m calling you later. You better pick up.
I noticed Roman was still under the table and had been for some time. “You okay?”
I winced when I heard a thump, but before I could apologize, a message came through.
Dina:Okay
My blood sang, and I stabbed my chicken, desperate to finish our meal.
After dinner, Roman and I sat in the living room making small talk while we drank coffee. Well,Iwas making small talk. Roman sat silently with his jaw clenched and his fist closed. Now and then he’d glance towards the door with an impatient expression. Was he desperate to leave? I certainly wasn’t going to stop him. This whole night had been awkward as fuck.
Admittedly, I hadn’t been the best host, especially since my mind was distracted by thoughts of Dina out with some fuck boy. What if she was texting him now? What if she was flirting and letting him know how much she was looking forward to their date?
Oh, hell no.
Just before I grabbed my phone to call her, it rang in my hand.
Dina.
“Sorry, I have to take this.”
Without waiting for a response, I walked briskly out of the room. I wouldn’t be surprised if Roman chose to sneak out. I didn’t care much if he did.
“Dina,” I breathed as I closed the door of our patio behind me.
Silence met me.
“Dina?” I gritted out again, desperate to hear her voice.
“I-I was waiting for you to call,” she whispered.
Satisfaction coursed through me and I closed my eyes to savor the sound of her words in my ear. “Did you miss me, baby?”
I heard her little gasp.
“No,” she puffed out. “You said you’d call me later. I didn’t want you to call while I was sleeping.” I heard her little indignant sniff down the line, and my mouth tipped up.
But then I was distracted by images of her sleeping. Did she sleep naked or with tiny shorts and a belly shirt? My jeans suddenly felt too tight.
“What are you doing to me, baby?” I groaned, allowing my head to rest on a wooden beam.
“I’m not doing anything.Yourejectedme, remember?”
“When you were too fucking young!” I ground out, trying to keep my voice down. I never once thought of her that way when she was sixteen. It never crossed my mind. Yet to think that just over two years later I would be tormented by explicit images of her made my head spin.
“That’s why I’m going on a date,” she continued. “With someone my own age.”
I rubbed the spot between my eyes. “Don’t fucking test me, Dina.”
“Why? I like testing you.”
“Dina.” She was driving me to the brink of insanity.
