"Nope. Just offering friendly advice."
My ball returned, and I followed his instructions. The ball's impact proved quieter that way, but I still ended up in the gutter.
"All right. Show me what you can do," I grumbled, sitting down huffily into a chair.
Roman strode up to the lane, movements graceful and flowing like a cat's. The ball poured from his hand like water from a pitcher, sailing smoothly down and hitting nine pins. When his ball returned, he threw it effortlessly once more and took out the obstinate tenth.
"This is going to be a long night."
"Cheer up." He chucked my chin. "We'll get you through this. Try it again, and aim more toward the left. I'm going to get us some beers."
I threw to the left as advised but only succeeded in hitting the left gutter. On my second throw, I tried greater moderation and managed to hit one pin on the far left. I whooped in spite of myself.
"Nicely done," cheered Roman, setting two mugs of cheap beer down on the table. I hadn't drunk anything not from a microbrewery in over a decade. "It's all about baby steps."
That certainly turned out to be true as our evening progressed. My pin count increased slowly, though I soon developed the nasty habit of creating splits on my first throw. I showed no aptitude for picking them up, despite Roman's best explanations. To his credit, he gave good, nonthreatening advice, as well as some hands-on instruction.
"Your arm goes like this, and the rest of you leans like this," he explained, standing behind me with one hand on my hip and the other on my wrist. My flesh warmed at his touch, and I wondered if his actions were truly driven by altruism or were an excuse to get his hands on me. I exercised such techniques regularly in succubus work. It drove men wild, and now I knew why.
Ruse or no, I didn't tell him to stop.
I hit my peak in the second game, even managing one strike, though my performance declined in the third round as beer and fatigue took over. Sensing this, Roman called our bowling adventures closed, lauding my progress as highly impressive.
"Do we have to go to a dive now for dinner, in order to keep with this dream-date slumming fantasy you've got going?"
He put his arm around me as we walked out to the car. "I guess that depends if you've succumbed to my wily charm or not."
"If I say yes, will you take me somewhere good? Sometimes the posh places do work, you know."
We ended up at an upscale Japanese restaurant, much to my satisfaction. Taking our time, we savored both food and conversation, and again Roman's knowledge and wit impressed me. This time we discussed current issues, sharing opinions on recent news and culture, things we liked, things that drove us crazy, etc., etc. I discovered Roman had traveled quite a bit and held strong views on world politics and affairs.
"This country is so in love with itself," he complained, sipping sake. "It's like one big mirror. It just sits all day and looks at itself. When it can be bothered to look away, it's only to tell others 'do this' or 'be just like me.' Our military and economic policies bully people outside our borders, and inside, conservative groups bully other citizens. I hate it."
I listened with interest, intrigued at this side of a normally light and easygoing guy. "So do something about it. Or leave."
He shook his head. "Spoken like a comfortable citizen. The old 'if you don't like it, you can just leave' policy. Unfortunately, it's a lot harder than that to cut yourself off from your roots." Leaning back, he forced levity with a small grin. "And I do do things here and there. Small acts. My own battle against the status quo, you know? Attend the occasional protest. Refuse to buy products made with third world labor."
"Avoid fur? Eat organic food?"
"That too," he chuckled.
"Funny," I said after a moment's silence. Something had just struck me.
"What?"
"This whole time, we've talked about current things. No sharing of traumatic childhoods, college days, exes, or whatever."
"So what's funny about that?"
"Nothing really. It's just that the human mating process usually seems to dictate everyone share their histories."
"You want to do that?"
"Not really." I actually hated that part of dating. I always had to edit my past. I hated the lying, having to keep track of my stories.
"I think the past plagues us enough without muddling it into our present. I'd rather look forward, not backward."
I studied him curiously. "Does your past plague you?"
"Very much so. I fight every day to not let the past overtake me. Sometimes I win, sometimes it does."
God only knew mine did the same. It was odd to talk to someone about this, someone who felt the same way. I wondered how many people in the world walked around with invisible baggage, hiding it from others. Even while packing said baggage, I'd always kept it concealed. I had a driving need to keep up surface appearances - hence the so-called "happy face." I'd smiled and nodded through the worst times of my life, and when that superficial reaction had not been enough, I'd finally just run - even though it cost me my soul.
I smiled slightly. "Well then. I'm glad you and I stick to the present."
He tweaked my noise. "Me too. In fact, my present is looking pretty damned good right now. Maybe my future too, if I keep weakening your resolve."
"Don't push it."
"Aw, come on. Admit it. You find my outrage at the powers-that-be endearing. Maybe even erotic."
"I think 'entertaining' would be a better word. If you want outrage, you should spend time with Doug, my coworker. You guys have a lot in common. By day he cleans up and plays respectable assistant manager, by night he's the lead singer of this wacky band, registering his discontent against society through music."
Roman's eyes flickered with interest. "Does he play around here?"
"Yup. He'll be at the Old Greenlake Brewery this Saturday. Me and some of the other staff are going."
"Oh yeah? What time should I meet you?"
"I don't recall inviting you."
"Don't you? Because I could have sworn you just named a day and place. Sounded like a passive invitation to me. You know, the kind where it'd be my job to say 'mind if I come along,' and then you say 'yeah, no problem,' and so it goes. I just skipped a few steps."
"Most efficient of you," I observed.
"So... mind if I come along?"
I groaned. "Roman, we can't keep going out. It was cute at first, but it was only supposed to be one date. We've already gone past that. People at work think you're my boyfriend." Casey and Beth had informed me recently what a " hottie" I had.
"Do they?" He looked very happy about this.
"I'm not joking here. I mean it when I say I don't want to get serious with anyone right now."
And yet, I didn't really mean it. Not in my heart. I'd spent centuries cutting myself off from any sort of meaningful attachment with another person, and it hurt. Even when I had purposely cultivated relationships with nice guys in my succubus glory days, I had immediately dropped them and disappeared post-sex. In some ways, my life now was even harder. I avoided the guilt of stealing a nice man's life energy, but I never had true companionship either. No one who cared exclusively for me. Sure, I had friends, but they had their own lives, and those who got too close - like Doug - had to be pushed away again for their own good.
"Don't you believe in casual dating? Or even male-female friendships?"
"No," I answered decisively. "I do not."
"What about the other males in your life? That Doug guy? The dance instructor? Even that writer? You're friends with them, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah, but that's different. I'm not attracted - "
I bit off my words, but it was too late. Roman's face bloomed with hope and pleasure. He leaned toward me, touching my cheek with his hand.
I swallowed, terrified and thrilled by how close he was. Beer and sake had made me fuzzy in body and mind, and I made a mental promise not to drink the next time we went out. Not that we were going out again... right? Alcohol confused my senses, made it harder to differentiate between the succubus feeding instinct and pure, primal lust. Either one was dangerous around him.
And yet... in that moment, lust wasn't even really the issue. He was. Being with him. Talking to him. Having someone in my life again. Someone who cared about me. Someone who understood me. Someone I could go home to. And with.