Teaching Roman (3 page)

“If I can help it,” Cassie promised him.

“Can I buy you two a drink?” he asked, placing his carry on on the stool next to mine.

I tried to look casual and failed miserably as heat rose to my cheeks. “We’ve moved on to water. Long flight.”

“Mine too.” Roman shifted on his heels and glanced at his phone. “I hate how early you have to be here for international flights.”

“Going somewhere exotic?” Cassie asked, twirling the straw in her cup.

“Puerto Vallarta,” he answered without skipping a beat.

Cassie’s elbow found my rib cage. “No fucking way! We’re headed there, too. Planning to hit the bars?”

“His family lives in Puerto Vallarta,” I butted in.

“I’m surprised you remember that.” Roman’s gaze searched my face, his expression entirely unreadable.

Crap. That sounded totally stalker-y. I just remembered things, especially things about Roman.

“She has a good memory,” Cassie said nonchalantly. “So you’re going to see your mom and dad?”

“My grandmother,” he said. “Most of the family has moved away. I’m actually the closest person she has left. The rest of us are scattered all over the globe. My sister’s in Spain.”

“It’s really nice of you to go see her,” I said in a quiet voice.

“She spoils me,” he admitted, “and the beach isn’t bad either. Do you like the water?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Cassie jumped in. “She loves it. Maybe you could take her swimming.”

I hated the water. Cassie knew that, and she was clearly up to something. And by something, I suspected she wanted me to hook up with our ex-prof.

“I’d like that,” Roman said. “It’s always nice to have someone to share the beach with.”

His chocolate brown eyes smoldered into mine, and I forgot to breathe. If anyone could talk me into drowning, it would be him. Just the thought of him in shorts, wading out into the waves with his shirt off, made my thighs clench together.

“I need to use the bathroom before we board,” I said, coming up with the first convenient excuse I could think of. “See you on board?”

Cassie nodded, returning to her conversation with Roman, while I strode quickly away. There was no doubt that Cassie was trying to get Roman and I together, but was it my imagination or was Roman flirting with me? Asking me to swim. I thought of his casual comment about sharing the beach with someone. With me. Maybe he was just being friendly, but something in his eyes said he wasn’t. And my body had reacted to it with a palpable desire I hadn’t felt before.

We hadn’t even gotten to Mexico and I’d already found myself in trouble.

––––––––

S
omehow Cassie had finagled us seats in first class. I didn’t ask how, because I had a feeling it had something to do with the emergency credit card Trevor had given her a few months ago. He was always flashing his money around her, and if our roomy flight accommodations were courtesy of his screw up, I wasn’t surprised. Not that I approved of Cassie using his card for revenge, but it was nice to know I’d get some work done on the plane. Plus, we got to pre-board, which meant that I was already seated and relaxed. I even opted for some white wine when the flight attendant came around to take our cabin’s orders.

Lounging back with my glass, I watched the parade of travelers struggling with their bags while Cassie organized a stack of magazines to read in-flight.
Maybe a few days in the heat won’t be so terrible after all.

Cassie leaned close to me.“So Markson,” she whispered, “is hot for you.”

“He is not,” I said harshly and the woman across from us shot me a withering glare.

“I suppose I don’t need to ask how you feel.” She giggled triumphantly and settled back in her seat.

No, she didn’t because try as I might to calm myself, I’d become a bundle of nerves since we ran into him. I tapped my fingers on my tray, wishing I’d dragged Cassie away from that bar earlier. But when I glanced up Roman was shuffling on board. My clit sent a distress signal at the sight of him. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and wondered if a quick bathroom masturbation break counted as joining the mile high club.

The line of people inched forward and Roman flashed me a crooked smile. “Have a safe flight.”

The second he was out of sight I slumped against my headrest and swallowed the rest of my wine in one exasperated gulp.

“You should totally nail him,” Cassie whispered to me, as if she could read my mind. “Join the mile high club.”

“What?” I turned toward her, sure she was joking. “I am not nailing Roman.”

“You want to nail him.”

“I do not want to nail him,” I repeated a bit too loudly and a few heads swiveled to stare at me. I shrank into my seat, pretending I was invisible.

Who cared if Roman Markson was on this plane? Or if he looked incredibly hot? I had bigger things to worry about. My focus needed to be on getting into med school, not guys, and I'd ensured that would be the case by telling Brett "no" before we left. I'd just dumped a perfectly nice guy to focus on my own goals.

No. Now wasn’t the time for romantic entanglements. At least that was the sensible thing to tell myself. The trouble was that my body seemed to have more mutinous sentiments.

Cassie laughed at me and tossed me a
Cosmo
. “You so want to nail him. There’s 200 Sex Lessons in there. Maybe you can play teacher. Did you bring a plaid skirt?”

“Remind me to kill you as soon as we land.”

“Isn’t that against the Hippocratic Oath?” she asked me as she waved the flight attendant over and ordered two more wines.

I stiffened at the joke. “I’m not a doctor yet.”

“Jess!” Cassie rolled her eyes. “For the last time it’s not a jinx if we talk about you being a doctor. You’re going to be one. You’re right on track, but it wouldn’t kill you to let loose this week.”

It was easy enough for Cassie to say that, but she didn’t know how hard it was to get into med school—or to survive med school for that matter. Being able to earn that title was the one thing I couldn’t absolutely count on in my five year plan and I hated that little variable.

Almost as much as I hated the near constant stress I felt. Could Cassie be right about letting go and having some fun? Would a week off from studying be all that bad?

Or was I just trying to find the excuse I needed to open a door for Roman?

“Truce?” Cassie suggested as she held up her wine glass.

I nodded and took a drink just as she added, “You still want to nail him.”

F
ive hours later, we landed in Mexico. Cassie and I stumbled off the plane, six glasses of wine down. My eyes crossed slightly as we made our way towards customs. I touched the tip of my nose, wiggling it to discover it was numb. Then I counted my steps.

“Will you stop doing your intoxication checklist?” Cassie demanded, looping her arm through mine to steady herself. “Because newsflash: you’re drunk.”

I wasn’t that drunk, but I was definitely tipsy.

Cassie dropped her passport in front of the customs officer and smiled sweetly at him.

“Purpose of your visit?” he asked. He glanced up, but his gaze stayed locked on Cassie, who giggled encouragingly at the attention.  “Business? Pleasure?”

“Definitely pleasure.” She winked at him, and he stamped her passport a little too enthusiastically. She had that effect on guys. She barely had to speak and they were falling at her feet. That was a quality I lacked, but hopefully it meant that she’d find a rebound guy sooner rather than later.

The officer barely looked at me, releasing us both to collect our luggage with a “welcome to Mexico.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I had three messages. One from Jills that simply read, “Just remember ‘Mas tequila por favor’” and two from Brett, checking to see if I’d landed, and another asking if I’d cleared customs. He'd apparently forgotten he wasn't my boyfriend anymore.

I wrinkled my nose. Was he sitting somewhere refreshing my flight information for updates?

Cassie bumped my hip, drawing my attention back to her. “What’s that face?”

I flashed my phone at her.

“Tell him we’ve been arrested and are awaiting trial for carrying contraband over the border!” Her dark eyes gleamed playfully as she clutched my arm.

“He’ll come down here if I message him that,” I said, knowing it was true. 

Cassie’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell him that.”

Shoving my backpack and tote bag higher up on my shoulder, I scanned the arrivals board for information on our luggage, but my vision was still a tad blurry from our happy hour on the plane.

“Dos,” a warm voice said in my ear. I jumped a little in surprise and Roman’s hand shot out to steady me.

“Crap!” I clutched my chest, laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his chocolate brown eyes crinkling with amusement “I thought you’d want to know the luggage will come in on carousel two.”

“I did,” I said, trying to sound casual. Or at least not drunk. “I’m just out of it. Text message. Drama back home.”

I was blabbering now, the result of too much wine, too much hot guy, and too little self control. I heard it spilling out of me, but I was powerless to stop the chatter. Roman always got me a bit tongue twisted when I saw him on campus. It was a classic Jess-style crush. It wasn’t the first time I’d been attracted to a scholarly type. Probably owing to being such a nerd myself. But his effect on me was infinitely worse with him standing here looking like a male model. Instead of undermining his nerdy sex appeal, it only enhanced it, making it hard to see the student-teacher divide. Especially since I knew he was only a few years older than myself.

Roman’s lips curved into a smile and he waved to someone in the distance.

“I should get my luggage,” I said.
And stop making a fool out of myself
. Besides, I’d already lost Cassie in the crowd.

“Roman!” A jubilant voice called his name, and I looked up to see an older woman ambling quickly toward him.

“My grandmother,” he explained to me

“We haven’t even gone on a date yet and already I’m meeting the family.” It was out of my mouth before I could take it back, but Roman responded with ringing laughter as he embraced his grandmother. I shifted from foot to foot, wondering if I should sneak away.

He stepped back, speaking in rapid Spanish and gestured to me. An older woman with coarse gray hair woven into a braid reached out and hugged me while I eyed Roman over her shoulders.

“My grandmother wishes she knew more about my life in Washington,” he explained. When the woman broke away, she took my chin in her hand, looking deep into my eyes. After a moment, she smiled and said something to Roman.

It was moments like this that made me wish I had taken more than the two required years of Spanish in high school.

“Aba!” Roman shook his head. “Ella no es mi amor.”

Amor
I knew, and it made me blush to think his grandma thought I was his girlfriend. Roman shrugged apologetically, but he couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

“Your bags?” Aba asked him.

“Aba speaks fluent English. She was testing your Spanish,” Roman said.

“It’s not very good,” I said, biting my fingernails.

Aba took my hand gently from my mouth, and said in a low voice, “It’s good enough.”

She patted it before she started toward the now moving luggage carousel.

“She’s opinionated,” Roman said after she was out of earshot.

“She’s lovely,” I assured him. I couldn’t help but think of Jillian’s MeMa. “Her name is Aba?”

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I should have introduced you properly. I call her Aba because I couldn’t say Abuelita when I was little.”

“Abuelita is Spanish for grandmother,” I said.

“See your Spanish isn’t that bad.” Roman knocked his shoulder into mine, but the friendly gesture sent a shock of electricity burning through me.

I tried to shake it off as we moved closer to the carousel. “I think I learned that from Dora the Explorer actually.”

Roman snorted. “Big fan?”

“I’ve got the hots for Backpack,” I said, licking my lips teasingly. “The kids I babysit during the summer would watch it all day if I let them.”

“I hope you’re well-paid,” he said. “Here we go!”

Roman jumped forward and pulled a duffle bag off the revolving belt, but he didn’t say goodbye.

“I’ve got this,” I promised him.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I pack light,” I said.

“Cassie doesn’t,” Roman said, and I followed his gaze to my best friend who was pulling a third bag off the belt.

“One of the reasons I can pack light.”

“Good friend,” he said.

“The best.”

There was an awkward pause, ended only by the arrival of my bag.

“Have a good trip!” he called as he joined his family.

Wheeling my bag behind me, I caught up with Cassie who was frowning at her phone.

“Something wrong?” I asked her as I grabbed for one of her bags.

“Nothing.” Her answer came out like a chirp, a mix between forced cheerfulness and anxiety.

I knew that tone. She could delete a guy from her contacts while still hoping he would call. And I guessed from the violent way she shoved her phone back in her pocket, Trevor the Ass hadn’t called.

“We’re in Mexico,” I said, trying to perk her up. “Sun. Tequila. Did you get Jills’ text?”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah. A no-sex edict from Tara should prove entertaining."

“You know Jillian's going to screw him all over that house now. This week is all about girl power,” I said.

“Oh, I’m getting laid, preferably by someone tall, dark, and handsome who doesn’t speak a word of English,” she told me.

“Come on, chicks before dicks,” I reminded her.

“Whatever. I saw you with Markson just now. Someone’s hot for teacher.” She batted her lashes at me as we headed toward the taxi stand.

“I don't bounce from guy to guy, remember?” It was much a reminder to her as myself, because I knew she was right.

Cassie winced, and I instantly wished I could take it back. 

“I’m sorry, Cassie. I’m being an asshat,” I said, letting go of my suitcase to give her a quick hug.