Basically, she wanted me to be the next JoJo Siwa, and we all know that’s not happening. So a simple yes will have to do in this case.
“Well, Lilly, it was wonderful meeting you. You’re so pretty!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Whitaker,” I say with a blush spreading to my cheeks, briefly wondering if her son feels the same way she does.
“I’ll let you kids get back to your lunch. I know you have to get to class soon.” She looks to her son, and I back away and take my seat on the other side of the table, still listening. “Call me later, would you?”
No doubt when he does, she’s going to grill him with a hundred questions about me.
Once Rome has ended the call, we sit in silence as he gathers himself. I can see he is unsure of what to say simply based on his body language, the hunched shoulders and the self-conscious way he sets his phone on the table then slides it into the center.
It certainly looks as if he’s searching for words to fill the silence.
He has absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about; his mom was acting like a typical mom. As far as I’m concerned, everything about their conversation was perfectly normal.
“She’s cute,” I say at last. “Much friendlier than my mother would have been.”
I pick up my burger and nibble from the end of the now cold, lifeless patty.
“How so?”
I swallow before telling him, “Well, my mom wouldn’t have been happy to meet you. She considers all males—romantic interests or friends alike—distractions.”
“Distractions from what?”
I shrug, chewing. “From…from…world domination.”
Roman tosses his head back and laughs, a hearty, pleasant sound that has me smiling around my bun at him, burger in my mouth and all.
“Your mom wants you to take over the world, huh?”
“Yup. One football game at a time.”
“How’s that going for you?”
“Terribly.” I take another bite before continuing. “I’m the absolute worst at it.” Plus, she would positively freak if she saw me eating a hamburger straight after eating a marshmallow-drenched cereal bar.
Not that my body is any of her damn business, but she has hovered over me most of my life and watched every calorie I’ve put inside of it, casting judgment.
Well. Those days are over.
This semester? I’ll finally be done with cheer, and I can finally live life on my terms.
Get a job. An apartment. Eat whatever I want.
Be with whomever I want.
“I would wager to say I’d be better at world domination than you.”
My brows go up. “How so?”
“Duh, science.”
That catches me off guard. “Who are you now, Gru from Despicable Me? Are you going to have a secret lab in your basement?”
“Secret lab, man cave—same thing, right?”
The idea of a house with a basement and a man with a cave appeals to me. A happy home with kids whose parents don’t ride their asses and let them be kids.
I sigh into my burger bun.
“That was heavy,” Roman observes.
“What was?”
“That sigh. What was it for?” He checks his watch at the same time he asks, probably needing to keep an eye on the time with a class looming.
Tick tock.
“Just me thinking about what life could be like as an adult.”
“Oh? How’s it gonna be as an adult?” He sounds genuinely curious.
“Normal. With lots of movie nights with snacks and loud noises. And definitely a dog.”
* * *
There is sweat dripping down my cleavage, sweat dripping down the center of my back and into my butt crack. We worked hard today at practice, and the air inside the field house was oddly humid. I think it’s because of all the athletes using the facility—it’s a busy season with lots going on. Football is in full swing, the cheer team is in here practicing, then there is the basketball team, the wrestlers, rowers, track team…
The place is packed.
Not to mention there’s a pool nearby, which most likely is the cause of the humidity. I wonder if they’ll do anything about that any time soon because man, today was rough. They definitely need to turn up the air conditioning units.
I decide to take a shower at the gym in the locker room, which is not something I normally do. I love having all of my own shampoo, conditioner, and body wash at my disposal. The stuff they have here just doesn’t smell as good, doesn’t clean my hair as well—it always feels somewhat matted when I’m done. But today I am just too disgusting to put clean clothes on and go home to wash off.
As I’m rinsing out the conditioner, Kaylee comes into the shower stalls and calls my name over the curtain.
“Yoohoo, Lill, is that you?”
She just saw me at practice; granted, we don’t practice in the same space—she’s a flyer and has different coaches—but still, things have been strained between us since Kyle and I broke up, and I haven’t been able to figure out why.