Chapter 23 Fun
“You’re no fun, Roman.”
“Do you have a question or not?”
“Yes. How many girls have you had relationships with?”
“Zero.”
Her mouth drops open. She snaps out of it in a second.
“Okay, then how many girls have you fucked?”
I smirk at her.
“I’m not sure I can give you an exact number.”
“Incredible,” she mutters. “You keep track of the number of people you’ve killed, but not the number of women you’ve fucked.”
“When you put it like that…” I trail off with a laugh.
She rolls her eyes. I spot a gas station up ahead and pull into it. Elena leans her head back in her chair and her eyes close.
“I need to fill up the tank. Do you need anything from the store?” I ask.
“Can I get some water?”
“Okay.”
I get out and close the car door. After filling up the tank, I head to the store. The bell rings above my head as I enter. It only takes me a minute or two to buy us snacks, but by the time I get outside, Elena is no longer in the passenger seat. I see her across the street, in front of some homeless guy who looks like he just crawled out of hell.
My heart speeds up, and the pressure increases as I catch a glimpse of a knife from afar. The man’s expression is downright menacing. I quickly walk over and grab her wrist before she can hand the man some money.
“Damn it, Elena!” I growl.
She struggles against my grip.
“Let me go. What’s wrong with you?”
“Get in the car!”
Her green eyes flash with irritation.
“No. I’m just trying to help him,” she says, pointing at the man still lying on the ground in front of us.
His expression is less threatening, more amusing. She's bigger. She's not some vulnerable girl he can take advantage of because she's alone. I fight the urge to punch him in the face.
"I'll do it," I say, exasperated. She won't leave unless I do. I put the bag of groceries in her arms. "I'll give him the money, now get in the car."
She sighs before turning and walking away. I turn to the man on the ground.
"I'll give you a hundred bucks," I begin, pulling out my wallet. I throw the money on the ground in front of him. He fights for it, grabbing every dollar. “If I ever hear that you are responsible for hurting someone kind enough to help you, I will find you. And I will hurt you. Do you understand?”
The man is not that old. Late forties, I would say. He has a scruffy beard and dull blue eyes.
He nods, clearly alarmed. He rises to his feet and walks away with the money on thin, shaking legs. As he leaves, I return to the car. Elena is already staring at me from the passenger seat.
“Your macho, protective bullshit is annoying as hell,” she declares.
I ignore her and start the car. I pull away from the gas station, and we’re on our way again. We’re about five minutes from her neighborhood. Good. It’s been one hell of a night, and I need some peace.
“Answer me, Roman,” Elena says, refusing to let this question go unanswered. “Does this make you feel good? Getting into situations that aren’t any of your damn business?”
“He had a fucking knife!” I yell. Tension wells up in me. I pull over and kill the engine before looking at her. “Is this what you do in Boston? Approaching random homeless people alone? Are you trying to kill yourself?”
She's stunned for only a moment or two before her gaze sharpens.
"How was I supposed to know he had a knife?"
I laugh. This is borderline hysterical.
"That's your excuse? Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? There are rules. I know you think you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart, but even you can't be stupid enough to think approaching homeless people on your own is a good idea."
"I didn't think."
"That's the point," I snap, cutting her off. "You never do.
The look in her eyes as I say the words makes me want to apologize immediately.
“Elena…”
“Fuck you, Roman. You’re an asshole,” she says quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “Fuck. You’re driving me crazy. I saw the knife and I lost it, okay? I was afraid you’d get hurt.”
Her gaze is soft as she looks at me.
“It shouldn’t bother you, Roman.”
“I think we’ve established the fact that I’m doing this.”
We’re both breathing heavily, chests heaving. As I look at her, our gazes connect, and something icy slides down my back. Elena doesn't look away. Her green eyes are piercing, mesmerizing. My throat goes dry, and I swallow.
"Truth or dare, Roman," she whispers.
"What?"
"Come on, truth or dare. I need to check something."
I can see in her eyes that this is different from before.
"Go for it," I say, my voice low and challenging.
Elena smiles triumphantly, as if she's just won something.
"I'm daring you to kiss me."
I've never been one to back down from a challenge. But in this case, it has nothing to do with my desire to win, and everything to do with my desire to feel. Because right now, every time I look at Elena, I can't help but imagine what it would be like to taste her.
I've spent more time than I'd like to admit fantasizing about what it would be like to kiss her. And now she's giving me the chance to do it.
I'd be a fool not to take it. But I'd feel shitty, too, if I did.