Roman calls me now. All of the Devils do. Emilio sends me a joke each morning. Or a funny meme he found online. He wants to make me smile. And while I appreciate the gesture, it’s a lot to take in. The sudden shift in their behaviors.
One second they hate me. Now it’s like they’re smothering me in distant affection.
Dominique is the only one I talk to at school. He sometimes walks me to class when Aaron isn’t around. He makes sure no one gets too close. I didn’t ask him to play guard dog, and when I told him as much, he just gave me this serious stare and carried on like I hadn’t said anything. I’ve learned not to push. If he wants to make himself late to class each day, that’s his prerogative.
Roman messages me each morning. A variation of good morning, beautiful, and calls me every night. I don’t respond to the texts and never answer the calls. He doesn’t leave any voicemails which is probably for the best. Hearing his voice at school is bad enough. If he left me messages, I know myself well enough to know I’d replay them again and again, obsessing over the sound of his voice. Trying to peel back any hidden meaning. It’s already what I do with his texts. Sometimes he adds an emoji and it’s enough to leave me guessing, hoping. For what, I’m not really sure.
But without fail at nine o’clock each evening my phone lights up and his name flashes across the screen. A part of me has come to look forward to that phone call. When eight fifty nears, I start counting down the minutes, hoping he’ll call, and that alone scares me. Because sooner or later, he’s going to give up. He’ll stop calling. He’ll stop texting. And he’ll move on. I want him to move on.
I can’t afford to need anyone else in my life. I’ve lost too much, and I don’t think my heart can take any more. It doesn’t matter that I miss him or that his presence sets my heart racing.
What happens when he’s no longer there?
I’m already dreading when the calls stop.
It’s been a week since he found out what happened to me. A week of pretending I don’t want him. Of trying to convince myself that I’m better off without him. But I’m slipping.
I catch myself staring at him when he’s not looking. And I hang onto every word Dom says whenever he mentions Roman. How he’s doing. Where he’s at. What they’re eating for lunch. It’s borderline obsessive and I know it, but I’m desperate to know every little detail.
Aaron has mentioned him a few times, too, which was surprising at first. He’s always made it clear how he feels about Roman. I know they have history, and while I’m curious, I also know it’s none of my business. But even he’s tried to convince me to talk to Roman. To at least hear him out. He thinks it’d be cathartic for me. And maybe it would be. But….
“Hey, Allie?” A hesitant voice calls out and I turn away from my locker to find Emilio standing a few feet away. He mashes his lips together, his eyes on the ground near my feet. “You doing okay?”
“Hey. Umm, yeah. How are you?” I glance around the hallway, class will be starting soon.
He shrugs and looks up, giving me a small smile. “I’m good. I, uh…” he trails off and looks away. “I wanted to try something. If you’re okay with it?”
I nod and brace myself.
“I know you said hands were a thing for you. So, I, ah…” He raises his hands so the tops of them face me. He’s painted his nails an inky black and has a gold band on his left thumb and another on his right-hand middle finger. “I was hoping this might make a difference for you.” He shrugs again with an almost sheepish expression on his face, and I can’t help but smile as I take in what he’s done, focusing on his nail beds and the jewelry. I take a tentative step forward. When my heartbeat stays steady, I take another. Emotions clog my throat and I take another step.
Emilio bites his upper lip, his eyes anxious as he waits for me to close the last bit of distance between us. When I do, I reach out and take one of his hands in mine, turning it over to trace the lines of his palms. I give him a tentative smile. “You going to wear nail polish all the time now? It might mess with your player status both on and off the field.”
He smirks. “I think the black makes me look cool. I’m going for that whole emo-rocker look with some Latino flare.”
“Ah, is that where the gold comes in?”
He smiles and hesitantly reaches for my elbow tugging me close. When I don’t object, his arms wrap around me and I breathe in the smell of him. Spice and mint. His embrace tightens for a split second and I stiffen but he’s quick to release me, taking a single step back. “I missed you, vanilla.”
“I missed you, too.”
He winks. “So, uh, you maybe wanna—” His eyes flick to someone over my shoulder, and I turn to find Roman standing just outside the door leading to our first-period class.
“He misses you, too,” Emilio says behind me.
I shake my head. “I can’t fix that E. Rome and I,” I brush my hair out of my face and give him a tight-lipped smile. “We were just each other’s way to pass some time. We both said as much from the beginning. A happy ever after was never in the cards. It’s time to move on.”
“Do you really believe that?” he asks.
I shrug. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe. It doesn’t matter now.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve known Roman almost my entire life. I’m closer with him than I am my own brothers. He’s not the best at showing how he feels, but he cares about you, Allie. A lot. I don’t want to push you. You’ve been through enough but just … don’t write him off yet, okay?”
I bit my bottom lip and look away. “I don’t think I can afford to care about him any more than I already do. It hurts—”
“I know, sweetheart. I know. But I think Rome can make you happy. You deserve to be happy.”
