Page 19 of Catch Me (Becoming Us #4)

Travis

When I came into the kitchen, I intended to talk to Roman because I heard him leave his room earlier.

He was on the phone with Tilian, of all people.

I didn’t want to bother him or interrupt, so I decided to leave him alone.

All I heard was him apologizing, which I wasn’t going to read into.

Whatever their deal was, it wasn’t my business.

Instead of returning to my room, I opened a coat closet and grabbed a pack of cigarettes I stashed there. I rarely smoked, but they were for times like this when I felt like shit in a multitude of ways.

I wanted to apologize to Roman for overstepping when I came to the stadium and for the way I responded on the deck.

The thing was, his words got to me. I’d made it a point not to make him uncomfortable, and I didn’t really think that he was, but he’d lashed out, and frankly, I was tired of it.

There was no reason for me to keep dealing with his shit. Four days of this was enough.

Logically, I shouldn’t have invited him to stay here.

There were times when I made offers without really thinking about it.

I liked to be nice, and I hated to think that nice people got burned a lot, but it had happened a few times.

I had to set boundaries for myself. It wasn’t like I’d stick to them, but whatever.

I sat on the front steps and pulled out a cigarette. The flick of the lighter was a sound that I’d always enjoyed. It was the first step to making unhealthy decisions. Or lighting candles. No in-between.

My eyes closed when I took my first drag. The rest of the cigarette never felt the same as that initial hit. By the end, I’d be tired of the taste and just want to be done, but this part made me feel calm for a second.

I blew out the smoke, then looked over my shoulder when I heard the door open. Even though I’d wanted to talk to Roman, now that he was here, I felt the opposite. The peaceful moment was shattered and this just tasted like tobacco.

To my surprise and annoyance, he sat on the step beside me. As I took another drag of the cigarette, I glanced at him. He had his elbows on his knees, and his chin rested on his knuckles. I picked up the pack and set it on his thigh along with the lighter.

When it clicked, I let out a breath. “I like that sound. My brain associates it with my grandpa. My parents would drop me off there when they went to work, and he’d let me play outside for most of the day.

I’d be sunburned and smell like death by the end of it, but I liked when they left me there because he’d tell me all these stories.

I’m pretty sure most of them were bullshit. ”

I laughed and hit the cigarette again. After flicking the ash off, I watched the gentle breeze blow it away. It wasn’t too cold tonight, but the temperature would start to drop more. That meant no more days in the water with Tessa. I might do it anyway, but I didn’t want her to get sick.

“Why does the lighter remind you of your grandpa?” Roman asked.

I blinked, then glanced at him again. He was staring ahead with an unreadable expression. He tucked the cigarette between his lips and inhaled, then turned to look at me.

“He smoked a lot,” I explained. “When I was playing outside, he’d sit on the porch and I’d hear that lighter over and over.

Eventually, I told him it wasn’t good for him and I didn’t want him to die.

He made me a deal that he’d only have one during every story he told me.

When he realized I stopped asking for stories, he decided that cigarettes were banned during story time, which made me ask for more of them.

I still heard the lighter when I was playing, but not while he told me stories. ”

I looked down at my hand and wondered if that was why I kept these around for bad days. Thinking about it now, the smell brought me back to afternoons with my grandpa, when the days were always good.

“What happened to him?”

“He got old and died.”

“Is that all?”

I kicked my feet out and rolled my ankles. “They went to drop me off one day, and when we walked in, he was on the ground in the living room. Stroke.”

“Damn. That’s shitty.”

“It is,” I agreed. After a second, I chuckled.

“What?”

“Just your response.”

“Sorry. Was it rude?”

“No. Most people say they’re sorry or that he’s in a better place, and I don’t really give a shit.

It’s been fifteen years, and I’m not grieving.

It was the same when my mom died. Condolences, condolences.

They’re nice words, but it’s a broken record, and at a certain point, I started to resent hearing them. ”

“How old were you?”

I turned my body to face him and angled my legs so they wouldn’t touch him. He matched my position and held my gaze. His expression seemed more open than usual. I would’ve tried to decipher it, but I saw his suitcase and backpack on the patio.

“Are you leaving?” I asked.

He looked at his lap, then back at me. “I’m gonna find a hotel.”

“Ah.”

It was what I’d been considering before he came out. I should just wave him off and wish him luck on the project. Now, though, he was being civil. More than civil. We were having an actual conversation and he hadn’t shut it down like he always did. I wondered what was different.

Rolling my lip between my teeth, I looked at the bags again. “Can you stay like this?”

“What do you mean? ”

“This Roman that’s in front of me. I’m asking if you’re capable of controlling the...less desirable part of you.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

“I’ll just head out.” He got to his feet and slung his backpack over one shoulder. “Thank you for all of this. The commission, the flights and the room. And for being kind when it made no sense for you to be. Sorry that I was a dick.”

When he started toward his car, I dropped my head back and once again cursed my dumbass for never learning. “Can you try?”

He turned around and cocked his head. “To be less of a dick?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Trying is something I can do.”

“Then, stop being dramatic and put your stuff back in the room. Unless you still want to leave. That’s up to you.”

“Are you sure? You have every right to kick me to the curb. I know that I’m an asshole sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a masochist.”

“Really?”

“No,” I laughed. “You really need to joke more.”

“Maybe I’ll try that too.”

“Thank god. You have nothing to do tomorrow, so maybe you should practice your comedy routine.”

When I glanced at him over my shoulder on the way inside, he was smiling. He saw me looking, but he didn’t get weird and hide it.

Cool. Maybe we’d be able to coexist. I’d thought that a couple times now, but maybe this would be the time it happened.

*****

“I don’t know.” I swore when I nearly dropped an egg. Deciding the phone-to-ear position wasn’t working, I put it on speaker and set it down.

“Are they still being bitches?” Sen asked.

“They’re always bitches. They didn’t say anything about our last LIVE, but—hold on.” I looked at Roman as he wandered into the kitchen looking half dead. “Want eggs?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed a coffee cup and filled it, then set the milk on the island for him .

“Travis?” Sen said.

“Sorry, I’m here. What was I saying?”

“They didn’t say anything about the last LIVE.”

“Right. If you tell your story, it’ll be really in-depth.”

“Is that a problem somehow? It’s just my experience. You’re not taking stances.”

“They said that telling people this state doesn’t allow conversion therapy bans was equivalent to me declaring my political opinion or whatever.

And your story is going to stir things up, which is what I want, but I don’t know how much more they’ll tolerate from me.

Like, can I even share resources at the end of the LIVE?

Can I say that what you went through your whole life was fucked up? ”

“It was.”

“I know!” With a sigh, I gripped the edge of the counter. “How many times can I tell them human rights aren’t political?”

“The people in power made them political,” Tilian chimed in.

“Are you guys always together?”

“We’re the least chaotic of the gang.”

Roman snorted from his place at the island. I couldn’t hold back my own smile.

“Maybe do a workaround,” Roman suggested quietly. I raised my brows, encouraging him to go on. His eyes went to the phone on the counter. “Direct them to someone else’s page. They do the LIVE, and you stay hands off. Don’t even go on the video.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Who’s that?” Sen asked. “Travis, do you have a secret boyfriend? I feel betrayed that you didn’t tell me.”

Roman looked down at his coffee, and it made me laugh. “No, my plus one will always be Tessa.”

“What’s your type?” Tilian demanded a little too aggressively.

“Men.”

“Boo. You’re boring. Light or dark hair?”

“Dark?”

“I am offended. Blonds are superior. Sen agrees.”

“Your boyfriend has dark hair.”

“Well, you can’t have two blonds in a relationship. It’s, like, a rule or something. Like me and Sen. We both prefer to bottom, so how does that work?”

“I mean, it’s Kai.” Sen countered .

“Fair point. It’s great either way, but there’s just something about being used like a common—”

“Alright, I’m gonna go,” I said. “See if Kai or West will host the LIVE for you. They have the most followers already, and I can make something directing people there without saying what it’s about.”

“Cool,” Sen replied. “I’ll text you.”

After I ended the call, I tried not to laugh as I shot Roman an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head while he took a drink. “I’m not bothered.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll wear earbuds from now on.” I looked around with a frown. “If I can find them.”

“Where’s the last place you saw them?”

“If I knew that, they wouldn’t be lost.”

He laughed. “Okay. When was the last time you had them?”

I tapped my fingers on the counter and continued scanning the space. Something had to trigger a memory at some point.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

I narrowed my eyes and pointed at him. “You don’t get to judge me.”

“Not judging. You should hire someone to keep track of your things.”

“That would be the most ridiculous job.”

“But you’d have your earbuds right now. There’s a Nightmare Before Christmas coffee cup on the banister out front. Have you been looking for that too?”

“I...” Pursing my lips, I returned my attention to the eggs. At least when I was in this place alone, I didn’t have to be reminded of the things I forgot. I snapped my fingers. “They’re in my backpack.”

“Go check.”

“No.”

He raised a taunting brow and made me second-guess myself. Since he wasn’t relenting, I grabbed it from the living room and took everything out, then flipped it upside down.

“Fuck.”

“The eggs are done,” he noted before he took a drink .

I whirled around and grabbed the pan to take it off the heat. He was leaning on his hand in a way that covered his mouth, which looked suspicious as fuck.

“Don’t say anything,” I grumbled as I put everything on a plate.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”