Roman Holiday

Tuesday

Chapter Eight

I have four more days until I can return to a normal life.

Stretching, I fix myself a cup of coffee and close myself out on the balcony so I don’t wake up Mom and Chuck. I check my phone. Caspian left a voicemail last night, so I should probably call him back and be a good invisible girlfriend. But I find myself on Twitter instead, searching for Roman Montgomery sightings. I'm not obsessed. I'm really not.

There isn't a single picture of us from last night—thank God. One person said she saw him in Myrtle Beach, but no one believed her.

Exiting out of Twitter, I dial my best friend's number. She picks up in two rings. “Good morning, bb,” I greet happily. "How's work hanging?”

"Like how bad do I want to hang myself or how low Mrs. Jackie's hemorrhoids are hanging today?"

"I'm sort of disgusted you know the second one."

"She talks. A lot," Maggie deadpans. "Like, her voice echoes in the library."

The palm trees sway against the breeze. The condo is on the fourth floor, so we're eye-level with the top of them. Cyclists move in lines across the beach, leaving thin trails in their wake like comet tails.

“I met someone last night.”

“Ooh!" Maggie's voice raises an octave with interest. "Do tell! Cute? Tall? Hunky? Dorky? Sneezy?"

"And he lives with six other men in a cottage by the woods, sure."

"I always loved the polygamous type. Is he hot at least?"

"Yeah," I reply, trying not to think about that one half-naked poster of him in Maggie's bedroom.

"On a scale from one to f*ckable?"

"Super f*ckable. And I'll probably never see him again."

"Oh, you know what they say, never say never."

"Where have I heard that before?"

"Besides," she goes on, "he can't possibly be comparable to Roman Montgomery. Oh, hunky piece of hipster manflesh...I just read a new amazing scoop on John's blog. Well, it isn't really amazing. It actually kinda sucks."

My stomach twists. I sip my coffee to try and loosen my nerves. The coffee is warm and bitter, just the way Dad would've liked it. "How does it suck?"

“Like, no one can find him so the music company they're signed with, you know, Muse Records? They’ve got Renee Prosperity and Jason Dallas, too?”

Renee Prosperity has a ‘true love’ fetish, and Jason Dallas is as emo as a black crayon. "Jason Dallas's new song isn't that bad. I mean, for an emo pop-rock—"

“Are you even listening? Roman has no contract anymore! I mean, it's like duh because you can't have a band that doesn't want to be found, but still. I think my heart broke a thousand times when I read that. The record company even gave their Madison Square gig to Jason Dallas. This is huge, Junes.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “This is bad.”

Does Roman even know this? I remember the bitterness in his eyes last night. He probably does. “What if he just doesn’t want to be found?”

“Or maybe he does but he’s been kidnapped and locked in some crazed fangirl's closet, screaming for help but only we can save him and—”

I interrupt her. "Have you been watching those Korean dramas again?"

The line quiets for a moment. "Maybe."

Rolling my eyes, I slouch down in the chair and prop my feet up on the railing. I watch a seagull hover in the air, cutting against the beach breeze. “Mags, think about it. What does he have to come back to? What in the world could he miss more than his best friend slash love interest slash whatever the hell Holly was?”

If Maggie replies, she does it in her own mind, because the next I know she's drilling me about the boy I barely met last night. “How tall is he? Hair color? Social Security number? Oh! I forgot to tell you yesterday, I saw Cas with some guy yesterday. Tall, dark-haired...totally McDreamy material. I didn't recognize him at first but bb, it was Geoff. Like, out in the wild. I NEVER see him outside the Lining. Did you know they knew each other? They were having coffee down at the Bean. Now, I wouldn't mind getting between those two hunks of manflesh. Mmmh."

No, I didn't know that my head bartender and my secret boyfriend knew each other. It surprises me, actually. I thought Cas hated the Lining. “Cas doesn’t even like coffee,” I murmur more to myself than to her.

“He sure seemed to be enjoying it.”

A kid takes off from across the pool deck and goes kamakazi-ing into the deep end after a beach ball. The poor kid belly flops and sends a tidal wave across the pool. He pops his head up, and goes paddling after the ball.

"Anyway, my smoke break's up. Yay, summer reading. Do you think I can get away with pretending to have mono for a week?"

"I doubt they'd buy it."

"True. I'll try hemorrhoids instead. Have fun without me, loser!" She makes a kissing noise over the phone and hangs up.

I melt down into the hard plastic chair like chocolate on summer cement and can't help but wonder if Cas just doesn't like coffee with me.