Little Moments (Second Chances 2)

He shrugs, inching closer to me. “Oh nothing. Just thinking about having a little fun.”

“What do you—”

At that moment, he takes a scoop full of flour and

throws it all over my shirt. I gasp as it hits me, powdering all over my clothing and face. He bursts into laughter as I stand there shocked, not quite believing he’d really done what he’d just done.

He continues to laugh. “You have got to see your face right now.”

“Does it look something like this?” I quickly grab a handful of flour and dump it on top of his head. It cascades down his face and trickles down his clothes, falling to the floor. My laughter erupts at my amusement.

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s on woman.”

Instantly, both of us grab handfuls and explode into an all-out flour war. The white powder is tossed all over the kitchen as we aim for each other. Shrieks of laughter echo throughout the apartment as we pummel each other with handful after handful of flour. I’m pretty sure I got some in my mouth and up my nose, along with every other nook and cranny of my body. Once the bag is empty of flour, I glance down at my clothes, seeing it’s all over me. I rub my hands to try and shake it off, but it’s no use.

Roman smirks. “It won’t come off like that.”

Still trying to shake it off, I ask, “Then how will I clean my clothes?”

His silence catches me off guard as I look up at him. His face is covered in flour, but his dark eyes are still perfectly visible. He inches forward, reaches his hand up, and touches my face. I feel his finger slide down my cheek, wiping away a trail of flour. That same finger glides across my lips as he stares at them, breathing heavy. My body freezes as the nerves come crawling back.

His mouth opens as his whispers softly, “Melanie I’m—”

Panic takes over my body and I step away from him. “Sorry, I have to use the bathroom.”

I rush out of the kitchen and slam the bathroom door behind me. Looking at myself in the mirror, I notice all the flour so I turn on the faucet and wipe my face clean. Drying myself with a towel, I think back and try to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

It’s Roman, why am I always running? I want to be with him, don’t I? Of course I do. Pacing back and forth in the bathroom, my mind spins as nerves and panic threaten to make me sick. Calm down, what’s wrong with you?

He’s obviously showed enough signs that he wants to be with me, but once again, here I am running off in a mode of panic. I’ve never been one to get scared, but that’s what I feel: scared. All the times I’ve put myself out there, it hasn’t ended well for me, but Roman is different; I can feel it. Maybe that’s why I’m even more afraid. Because there’s so much more to lose. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and if I lose it, I don’t think I’ll ever get another chance.

But why is he different? Why do I care so much? I promised myself I wouldn’t end up in the same situation as I had with Easton, all brokenhearted. Staring at myself in the reflection of the mirror, I think back, remembering all the good times Roman and I have shared together these past couple of months.

It started out bumpy but I’m truly happy now. I can’t imagine my life without him. I can’t imagine not knowing he exists. Maybe that’s why Duke, Easton, and all the other relationships didn’t work: because deep down I’ve been waiting for Roman this whole time. He means the world to me because…well, because…

Looking into my eyes in the reflection, a low whisper escapes my lips. “Because I love him.” Pulling the bathroom door open, I rush out into the kitchen to find it’s completely clean. The sound of the TV echoes from the living room so I follow it, finding Roman sitting on the couch.

I tiptoe toward him and quietly sit on the sofa next to him. His face is hard as he avoids eye contact with me. I touch his arm but he pulls it away. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He looks away and reaches for the wheelchair. “I’m actually tired all of sudden. I need to get some sleep.”

His stern voice sounds a little cold but I push harder. “I could stay and keep you company. It’s still early.”

Sitting in his chair, he wheels toward the bedroom. “No, I think you should leave. I’ll call you later.”

Following him, I stop the chair as he tries to push forward. “But wait, I wanted to talk.”

He twists his head to look at me. His eyes flash with a hint of anger. “Well, I don’t.”

I beg, “But I—”

His voice growls, “Please Melanie, just leave.”

Startled by his cold demeanor, I turn around and rush toward the foyer. Putting on my coat, I grab my purse and dash out the door, slamming it behind me. Waiting at the elevator, I silently beg. Please come after me.

As the elevator door opens, I step inside and cry softy as the door closes behind me.

******