The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (98 page)

“
Here
’
s what I think,
”
Doug begins to say, saving me from my thoughts.
“
One day, you
’
re going to look at her and it
’
ll hit you. You
’
ll just
know
that you can no longer go on like this. Then nothing, not even you, will be able to stand in your way.
Or
maybe the opposite will happen. Only God knows, at this point. The decision is up to you, and when you
’
re ready to make it, you will.
”

I nod, unable to find any words to follow his. I just hope with all my heart that he
’
s right.

Roman:
You owe me a hang out.

Me:
Haha, I do?

Roman:
Yeah. You skipped yoga to watch football the other day. You broke your promise. ;)

Me:
You
’
re right! :( Okay. When are you free?

Roman:
I
’
m off at 8 Wed. and Thurs.

Me:
Wednesday works for me.

Roman:
What should we do? Little Bird?

Me:
Sure.

Me:
Wait! No! I have a better idea!!

Roman:
Shoot.

Me:
I want to hear you play
…

Roman:
Really?

Me:
I think it
’
s only fair that I see if you
’
re any good before I agree to take the stage with you ;)

Roman:
You
’
re right. That is fair. My place?

Me:
Okay. Just send me your address.

Roman lives in a house about fifteen minutes away from me, north of town and a good distance away from campus. From the looks of it, his neighborhood seems quiet and quaint. I try and associate my surroundings with him, but it doesn
’
t seem to match. I don't know why, but it seems more like a place to settle down and he doesn
’
t strike me as quiet ready to
settle down
.

I park on the street, since there are two cars parked in the driveway, and make my way to the front porch. Before I ring the doorbell, my stomach tingles as I
’
m struck with a bout of nerves. I can
’
t really decide
why
I
’
m nervous
—
and then, he answers the door. He
’
s dressed comfortably in a pair of gym shorts and a tank top. His hair is wet, which makes me assume that he hopped in the shower after he got home from work, and his feet are bare
—
a sight I
’
m quite used to. He greets me first with a warm smile and the tingles in my stomach intensify.

Did I ring the bell?

“
Hey. I was sitting right here,
”
he begins to explain, pointing to his right,
“
and I heard you get out of your car.
”

“
Oh,
”
I manage.

All at once, it hits me
—
I
’
m about to be alone with Roman. Like
really
alone. I don
’
t know why I didn
’
t realize this until just now, and I
’
m not sure why it matters, but it does. We
’
ve only ever hung out in public places. Even if it
’
s just the two of us, we
’
ve always been in a crowd. It hasn
’
t been intentional, I don
’
t think; I mean, we haven
’
t gone out of our way to
avoid
being together privately. But in the four months that I
’
ve known him, I
’
ve never seen where he lives. He
’
s never seen where I live, either.
That
’
s all about to change
.

“
Did you want to come in?
”
he asks with a lopsided grin.
“
Or did you want to hang out on the porch? It
’
s nice out. We can, if you want.
”

I stupidly look around his front porch
—
which isn
’
t so much a porch as a wide set of cement stairs
—
and then decide I
’
m being ridiculous.
“
No,
”
I say with a smile.
“
Inside is good.
”

“
Okay,
”
he chuckles, sweeping his arm out in a gesture of invitation.

Right away, my eyes are all over the place. It
’
s a ranch style home and from where I
’
m standing, I can see the living room, to my left, and the dining area, which is across the room in front of me. There
’
s a black leather love seat and couch in front of the big television mounted on the wall. The room is clean, but kind of cluttered. There
’
s a large movie collection stacked up in piles against the wall on either side of the entertainment center that houses a couple game consoles and a bunch of video games. The coffee table is littered with textbooks, notebooks, and coffee mugs. Looking over in the dining room, I see there
’
s a round table that looks to be decorated just about the same. The five chairs that surround the mess are mismatched.

“
Want a tour? It
’
s not much, but if you want to look around
…”

“
Yeah, sure,
”
I say with a nod, curious to see how he lives.

“
Okay. Living room, dining room,
”
he says, pointing as he makes his way in that direction. I follow and just to the left of the dining room, behind the wall where the TV is mounted, is the kitchen. I smile at the row of cereal boxes that are on top of the fridge.
“
Ashton is a cereal junkie,
”
Roman explains.
“
He
’
s also the reason why there
’
s school work all over the place. He
’
s studying to get his second master
’
s.
”

“
Second?
”
I ask, in awe of this roommate I
’
ve never met.

“
Yeah. He got his first in sports and exercise science; now he
’
s working on food science and human nutrition.
”

I can
’
t help the laugh that bubbles its way out of me.
“
Human nutrition? And he
’
s a cereal junkie?
”

Roman grins at me as he shrugs.
“
Nobody is perfect. Come on,
”
he says, leading me past the dining room and down the hallway.
“
Bathroom, Ashton
’
s room, Ryan
’
s room, and mine.
”

I barely peek into his housemate
’
s rooms, not wishing to invade anyone
’
s privacy, but I
do
walk around Roman to take a good look at his most personal space. I don
’
t know what I was expecting, but it wasn
’
t
this
.

The room is simple. It
’
s not big, but it
’
s clean, which makes it
feel
big. And when I say clean, I mean
spotless.
His bed
—
which is perfectly made
—
is tucked into the far corner of the room and his desk
—
which is almost empty, aside from a lamp, his laptop, and a notebook
—
is situated just beside the door. Instead of a dresser, he has a shelving unit that occupies the wall space beside his bed. It
’
s a large wooden square filled with little squares filled with clothes neatly folded on the top three rows, and books and notebooks on the bottom row. His closet is shut, but I can imagine that his shoes are probably neatly organized and it wouldn
’
t surprise me if his clothes were color coordinated.

I turn to look at him and arch my eyebrow teasingly before I ask,
“
OCD?
”

“
Sometimes,
”
he replies with a chuckle.

“
Apparently.
”
I turn to take one more look at the room and that
’
s when I spot his guitar case propped up against the end of his bed.
“
And there she is. I think it
’
s time you play me something.
”
He pulls the chair from underneath his desk and places it beside the bed, inviting me to sit. I set my purse down and bring my legs up, crossing them beneath me, as he pulls out his guitar.
“
By the way, where are Ashton and Ryan? Will I get to meet them?
”

“
Maybe, if you
’
re around when they get back. Ryan
’
s at work. Ashton has his church small group on Wednesdays.
”

I nod, pleased to have acquired this information. It
’
s like him knowing where his roommates are is just another part of being in his own space. As he sits on the edge of the bed and tunes his guitar, I watch him and smile. This is a side of him that I
’
ve never met before, and I
’
m anxious to know him.

“
What?
”
he asks when he catches me staring.

“
Nothing,
”
I insist.
“
I just can
’
t believe I
’
m about to hear you play. According to Daphne, I
’
m in for a treat.
”