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Chapter Six
Uncompliments and Appropriate Fondling.
I was completely convinced that Roman wasn’t going to be the kind of guy to mope two nights in a row. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d let the consequences of sex get in the way for long. So I felt it was safe to wander down to the lake again on Sunday night, ready to have a mope on my own.
So of course, I was wrong.
Because anything you expect Roman Lombardi to do, you should really expect he’ll do the opposite. His character may have been pretty consistent – until recently – but his behaviour was erratic. He had a speaker sitting on the shore a little behind him playing Nirvana and he stood skimming stones.
I watched him for a while, as his body turned and his arm flicked across his chest. He was wearing dark jeans and a hoody under his jacket, and I did take a minute to appreciate how nice his silhouette was. He leant his hands on his head when he ran out of stones and stared out at the lake like it had the answers to all his troubles, and it looked like he was feeling pretty troubled. Suddenly, my issues seemed insignificant.
I debated whether I wanted to run back up to my house and avoid him or see if I could find that weird sense of comfort around him again. It was decided for me when he turned as he went to pick up another stone and I swear he jumped.
“Fuck, Barlow!” he chuckled self-consciously.
“Hi.” Why did I wave? Who knows? “Is this a private pity party, or can anyone join?”
He smirked a little, but something about his posture made him look really tense. “Depends. How are your issues on this fine night?” He sounded forcibly upbeat as he bent over and picked up a few more stones.
I smiled a little awkwardly and looked at my shoes while I spoke. “They’re…issues. How’s the niece?”
“She went to bed before she passed out from exhaustion tonight. So, that’s something,” he answered, looking at the stone he juggled. He sounded likehemight pass out from exhaustion at any point.
I both liked and didn’t like seeing him differently.
I nodded and stepped up beside him as he went back to skimming. “Yay,” I offered somewhat weakly.
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”
I spread my blanket out and sat down. He juggled that one last stone as he dropped beside me. We sat, not talking, and the music washed over us. I only vaguely recognised half the songs that played, but I didn’t mind; they all seemed to mirror our moods perfectly. I could feel the tension radiating off him as he had a smoke and I wondered what vibe he got from me. But as we sat there, breathing became easier.
And sitting there, I realised I was glad he’d been there.
With Roman, even not talking, I didn’t feel quite so alone. Like those times we walked home, it was almost like he just knew when I just needed to sit and be and he was perfectly happy to sit and be with me. I didn’t know if he was feeling it, but I felt completely comfortable in a way I almost never did.
Not with Hadley, who always exuded anticipation or nervous energy. Not with my parents, around who I felt like I always had to be switched on to bubbly so they didn’t worry. Not with Celeste, who always opened her mouth when there was a split second of silence.
I didn’t feel the need to fill the void, to prepare for whatever crazy thing might come next, or pretend I was fine. I could relax, be myself, breathe easy. All the tension faded away.
It was both concerning and exciting.
During a song that I thought I recognised as Muse, he started singing softly, his hand running through his hair.
“You’ve got a nice voice,” I said, both of us just staring at the lake.
He lay down and I followed suit.
“I didn’t picture you as a singer.”
He laughed, but it was still tense and humourless. “I don’t tend to bring it out at school, true.”
I smiled to myself. “You’re different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, at school you’re all cool–”
“Aw, you think I’m cool?” he teased.
