Blindsided (Roman Holiday 3)

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I should have warned you about the alligator. And I shouldn’t have gone off with Mitzi while you were in the shower. That was rude. And last night—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s really not fine.”

He turned to look at her. “We’re not friends, Ashley. I don’t have friends. It’s fine.”

Nothing about him looked sad when he said it—not his eyes, not his face, not his beautiful mouth or his overabundant eyebrows. That was the part that made her want to cry.

She handed him his phone.

He opened the console between their seats, extracted a cord, and inserted it into the phone, then plugged the other end into the lighter. The wire curled and flopped unattractively in the gap between the phone and the console. Roman frowned at it, then looked away.

With his right hand, he dug deep into his pants pocket. Suddenly, air began blasting from the vent in front of her, making her jump.

“Remote starter,” he said.

She blinked.

“In my pocket.”

“Oh. Right.”

The air rapidly cooled. She cast around for something to say. “Did you get in touch with the tow-truck guy?”

“I’m supposed to call him back.”

“I can ask Mitzi about Jerry.”

“Don’t put yourself out.”

“Roman—”

“Oh, knock it off.”

“I can’t. I just want you to know how sorry I am about—”

He flung his door open and hopped down from the car. Abruptly, the cool air cut out, and the car fell silent. Roman slammed his door shut.

Ashley flung open her door and followed him out. “Where are you going?”

But he was twenty feet away already, with his head down. She had to run to catch up. “Roman, where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“You can’t. I need to talk to you.”

“I can’t talk to you right now.”

But he had to. If not now, when?

He would leave. He would leave, and she would lose her chance to make him see all the things she needed him to see. What Sunnyvale was all about. What her grandmother had meant to her.

She would lose her chance to make him see her.