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That night we only lasted two episodes of our show before calling it a day and heading to sleep.
“Lucas?” Rosie whispered loudly from the master bed.
I smiled up at the ceiling from the couch. “Rosie?”
“Did you like the Chicken Karaage?”
“It was okay.” It hadn’t beenjustokay.
My head was already pondering how to reproduce the way they’d breaded the chicken and maybe even give it a twist. I could add crumbled crackers or even very finely chopped nuts marinated in soy sauce. I could—
“Liar,” Rosie called. “I saw you licking the container lids when you took everything to the kitchen.”
Busted.
I threw an arm up and rested my hand under the back of my head. “Fine, it was fucking fantastic. You were right, and I’d lick those containers again if there was anything left on them.”
She laughed and the sound made the corners of my lips inch even higher. It was a beautiful sound and it didn’t come out nearly often enough.
“Why are you trying to play the tough guy card and saying it was just okay?”
I went with the truth. “Because the plan had been to feed you those pizzas. And burning them bruised my ego.”
We fell into silence for a couple of minutes, my head going straight back into my gutter. Thinking of her, of tonight. Of her parted mouth and how I’d wanted to dip my head and lick her bottom lip—
I cursed myself when my sweats got a little tighter at the crotch.
“Lucas?” Rosie called.
When I answered my voice was thicker. “Yeah?”
“Tonight was amazing. Regardless of the pizzas.”
“I’m happy it helped, Rosie.”
“It wasn’t just that,” she replied. “Sure, it helped. More than you know, but I… loved it. It was the best second date I’ve ever been on. I don’t deserve you going out of your way so much for me—for this,” she corrected herself. “For the experiment.”
Something in my rib cage shifted. “Your bar is so low, Rosie. It drives me insane.”
A beat of silence.
“Why do you say that?” she finally asked. “I think my standards are normal.”
The fact that she believed that made it all even worse. “You shouldn’t be content with a date that ends up with you scraping an oven clean,” I told her, and I could hear the frustration in my voice. “Or standing on top of a counter, terrified.” I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, needing the time to stifle the urge to say more than I should. “You deserve so much better than any of that. Whether it’s an experiment or not, you deserve more.”
No answer came from her. And I hated that I had snapped like that and couldn’t see her face in the dark.
Only when I’d given up and thought she’d fallen asleep, she spoke, “I wish you’d attended Lina and Aaron’s wedding, Lucas. I…” She trailed off, what sounded like a shaky breath chasing her words. “I really wish I’d met you that day.”
My chest constricted.
And I thought about that for the first time. That alternative reality where we—Rosie, the maid of honor, and Lucas, the bride’s older cousin—would have met and perhaps had a glass of wine or two. Maybe a dance. Hopefully a little more than just that. God knows I would have tried.
But I wasn’t that man anymore. I couldn’t… hope for more with anybody when I didn’t even have my own shit together. And we were friends, roommates. And I loved that. Spark or not, I loved having Rosie in my life.
For now, I reminded myself. Because in three weeks I was going to leave.
And that was something I shouldn’t forget.
