Chapter 83 83

Chapter 83 83
Roman's POV

The local bar was extremely packed for a Monday night, filled with the usual loud crowd of college kids and neighborhood regulars trying to drown out the start of the week.

"Here you go, Foster," the bartender said as he pushed a glass of whiskey towards me. He gave me . "Man, I saw the highlights on the local sports channel. Rough game against the SIU Salukis. Tough loss, tough loss. You guys fought hard in the third, though."

I grudgingly thanked him, keeping my voice low as I took a slow swallow of the cold alcohol. I didn't want to talk about that loss anymore. Ten goals sliding past our blue line was humiliating enough without having to relive the entire disaster with the guy pouring my drinks. I wanted to scrub the memory out of my brain.

Miles shifted on the stool next to mine, his broad shoulder bumping against my side as he reached for his own pint. He waited until the bartender walked down to the other end of the counter to clear some empty baskets before he looked over at me.

"He's right, you know," Miles muttered. "Stop eating yourself up over it."

"I'm not eating myself up," I lied, staring into the foam of my beer. I cleared my throat, wanting to shift the conversation as far away from the ice rink as humanly possible. The memory of the cold sand at Ohio Street Beach from Saturday night rushed into my head, warming the back of my neck.

I took another long pull from my glass, checking to make sure nobody was within earshot before leaning closer to my best friend. "Listen... something happened after you guys left the parking lot the other night. I dropped you and Quinn off, but Harmony stayed in the car with me."

Miles stopped his glass halfway to his mouth, his dark eyes instantly filling with curiosity. "Yeah? And what did you do, Foster?"

"I took her to the beach. We talked for a long time. She told me some things about her family, about her mother. And then... I kissed her."

I braced myself for the inevitable onslaught of loud jokes and heavy shoulder shoves. Miles was usually the first one to rip into me the second a girl was involved, especially when it came to Harmony. But he didn't make fun of me. Instead, he set his pint down carefully on the coaster.

"Honestly, I was wondering when you were finally going to wake up," he shook his head. "The way you two keep acting around each other is ridiculous at this point. I'm glad you finally did something about it. So? Did you ask her out properly?"

"Well, no." I replied, instantly regretting that I hadn't.

"You idiot, Foster. You've had sex with her, you guys have kissed a couple of times, and yet..."

"It's not that simple, okay?" I argued, then rested my chin in my palm, looking at the neon sign buzzing behind the bar. "You know how she is, I told you. The second thing start to get even a little bit emotional, she pulls back. We had this amazing, intense breakthrough on the sand, and the kiss was... it was incredible. But the moment we got back to her apartment, she put her walls back up. I can tell she's terrified of letting anyone get too close."

"I understand that. But look," Miles looked at me directly. "Girls like Harmony, who I'm sure have been through the worst kind of hell, don't just hand over their trust because you gave them a great kiss on a beach. So if you try to push her to talk or force her to be vulnerable before she's ready, she's going to run in the opposite direction."

"So what am I supposed to do?" I asked morosely. "Just pretend it didn't happen?"

"No," Miles countered, shaking his head. "Just don't force things. Let her see that you're not going to disappear on her. If she realizes you're here to stay, the walls will start coming down on their own, piece by piece. You just have to be patient, man."

"So, let me get this straight." I muttered. "You want me to ask her out on a proper date immediately after kissing her, but at the same time, you don't want me to... rush things?"

Miles laughed. "I don't make the rules, Foster. Women like her are complicated, but you'll learn. Eventually."

I was about to open my mouth and answer, when my phone began to vibrate with a call. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, the screen lighting up with a name that instantly turned my stomach sour: MOM.

I slid the button across the screen and lifted the phone to my ear. "Hey, Mom."

"Great. You picked my call this time," she started.

"I see you had the decency to call me since the match on Saturday." I grumbled. "Did you hear about my defeat? Did you call to gloat?"

"There are much more important things than your match, Roman." My mother replied coldly. "I'm calling to ensure you haven't forgotten about tomorrow evening, we're expecting the Benningtons at seven sharp. I have spent the last three weeks organizing this dinner, and I will not tolerate any tardiness. Do you have an appropriate suit pressed?"

Shit. I had completely forgotten about the dinner I was supposed to have with our old family friends.

"T...tomorrow?" I stammered, my eyes widening as I scrambled around for an excuse. "Wait, Mom, tomorrow is Tuesday. I have practice."

"I don't care about your practice. You gave me your word, Roman," she said, her tone turning instantly cold and brittle. "You will be there, whether you want to or not."

"Right," I muttered. "I'll be there."

"Perfect. Wear your navy jacket. Goodbye."

She didn't wait for goodbyes before cutting the call sharply. I lowered the phone slowly, wanting nothing more than to smash my phone against the counter.

"Oh my God," Miles, who had overheard the entire conversation, burst into a loud, booming laugh that drew looks from a couple of students near the dartboards. "How did you even agree to this?"

"Shut up, Miles," I growled, burying my face in my hands. "It's not funny."

"Hey, whatever you say, Lord Foster," Miles chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Just make sure you don't use your hockey manners at the silver spoon table. I don't think your fancy guests will appreciate that."

I threw a ten-dollar bill onto the counter to cover the drinks and slid off the stool as the exhaustion of the entire situation finally caught up to my bones.

"I'm out of here," I told Miles, pulling my hoodie tight around my neck. "I need to go to my apartment and mentally prepare for this nightmare. I'll see you at the rink tomorrow morning."