Page 23 of Catch Me (Becoming Us #4)

Roman

Travis was in a really good mood today, which wasn’t at all surprising considering how the LIVE went yesterday. I was beyond shocked by the whole thing.

He’d announced that he was dropping three hundred thousand dollars, and I questioned whether he was real.

When I looked at him, I didn’t see someone with that kind of money.

He’d finished three seasons and had been a Super Two player this year, so he’d obviously raked in a lot of money, and aside from his nice house, he didn’t seem to get extravagant things.

Then, he suddenly dropped that giant amount like it was nothing because he cared that much.

I’d also found out what he felt guilty about. I wanted to tell him that none of it was his fault, but he knew that. It also had nothing to do with me, so I didn’t want to insert myself.

We weren’t friends. Not friends, not friends, not friends...

“Jesus,” Travis exclaimed when I ran into him around the corner into the kitchen.

On instinct, I grabbed his biceps to keep him from falling. Now, I was stuck in a raging internal battle because I should let him go, but so mething about touching him felt good. That seemed to be his whole thing.

I wasn’t sure how long it’d been when I released him, but he didn’t act weird about it, so hopefully it had been a normal amount of time. He stepped back, taking the intense feeling with him.

“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t know you were back.”

“It was just a quick trip to the store.”

“What’d you get?”

“Nosey, nosey.” He moved past me and continued into his room.

I frowned as I rounded the island. We’d only been around each other consistently for a week, but the close proximity made it feel like longer. Some parts—the trips to the sub shop, swimming, and smoking on the porch—seemed like bigger moments than they actually were. And I wanted more of them.

I lifted myself onto the counter and pulled my tablet out of my hoodie pocket.

It opened to the picture I’d been working on yesterday while he was gone.

He was slumped in a seat at the stadium with his legs up.

At the time, he’d been singing softly. Since he’d been unaware of my presence, I’d given myself a minute to watch him.

He’d looked so at peace that once we got back to the house, I had to get to my room and try to recreate it.

Something about Travis made it difficult to truly capture him.

I thought about what he said the other day.

Art was missing life. I’d never really had an issue with that, though.

He was so full of life and energy that maybe the absence of it was too much.

Without those things, he wasn’t him . He didn’t belong on a page, but I kept putting him there, over and over again.

“Is that me?”

God damnit. I was an idiot.

After switching the screen off, I dropped my feet to the floor. I tried to brush past him, but he stepped into my path. Before I could turn around and go the other way, he grabbed onto my biceps like I’d done to him earlier.

“You’re ready to lash out,” he noted. “Don’t.”

I scoffed and shook him off. Without touching me, he started walking forward, forcing me to back up unless I resorted to violence, which I wasn’t going to do. When I was pinned against the counter, I reconsidered my stance on that.

“You reasoning through it? ”

Rolling my eyes, I tried to focus on anything but the tight grey t-shirt that hugged his chest. Or the way his scent was so strong after his shower.

He shifted, and I put my hand on his chest to keep him back.

“You don’t have to get weird or angry about every little thing,” he said, seemingly unaffected by the way I was touching him.

I was affected. “I’m not angry.”

“Good. Whatever’s going on in your head that made you try to dip, you don’t have to let it lead. You’re drawing me. So what? I like when you do.”

My eyes widened. I was aware of my fingers tightening on his chest, but he didn’t move, so neither did I.

“Why do you like it?”

“You’re an artist. Being chosen as your subject on more than one occasion feels like an honor. Can I see?”

I shook my head. He gently took my hand and pulled it away from his chest. I let it fall to my side and refused to show my disappointment. After a minute, I held the tablet out to him. The way he smiled made it feel worth it, but I still hated the idea of him seeing the illustration.

He moved to lean against the counter beside me, close enough that our shoulders were touching. “Wow. You blow me away, Roman.”

“It’s not great.”

He looked at me and shook his head. “There’s no way you think that. When I complimented your art at the game, you were confident. Was that a front?”

“No. I know my worth as an artist, but this one isn’t great. I can never get them right.”

As he stared at it, he hummed thoughtfully. “Never? Are there more?”

Well, I might as well tell dignity to fuck off.

I reached over and exited out of the project so that he could see my library.

All of the things I was working on were there—hundreds of them since I was constantly starting new things and many didn’t get finished.

There were quite a few featuring his teammates that I’d worked with already.

I’d done three or four each so that I had options for the final submission.

Maybe I’d give them more than one per player if they were good .

Among all of those and some other random things, there were drawings of Travis.

Looking at them now, with his eyes on them too, I realized how many there were.

The swimming hole; the stands; what he’d looked like on the porch with his cigarette; a few of him playing with Tessa; him making breakfast; him sitting at the island, drinking coffee; a couple in his Jeep, including one when he had the window down and he was smiling while his hair whipped around; and two recreations of the LIVE video screen last night.

One was when he announced that he’d be donating to Sen and Kai’s campaigns. The other displayed an expression that I both hated and was drawn to because of its depth—after he admitted that he felt guilty about Dumont.

I glanced at him and remembered that moment. It made me want to hug him and tell him that he wasn’t allowed to feel like that.

Damnit. This made me look obsessed. Maybe I sort of was, even though it was ridiculous. Clearly, I wasn’t getting any better. I was a disaster, getting lost in some feeling that was mounting where it shouldn’t be.

I should flee and escape to my room. He couldn’t look at the pictures anymore, couldn’t see evidence of this part of me that I despised.

If nobody saw it, it didn’t exist. There were only a few people who could make any claims about it, but even then, all they had were the times I’d slept with them. This was so much worse.

Travis was silent and I couldn’t bear it.

When I snatched the tablet, I didn’t do the logical thing. Instead, I leaned a little more to the side, pressing our arms together. I opened the one of him in the water and tapped on it.

“See?”

“No,” he admitted. “Is it the hair again?”

“I don’t know.” After staring at it, I zoomed in on his face. “The eyes.”

“They’re brown. I don’t see how they aren’t right.” He squinted his eyes, then widened them. “You have the reflection of the water in them. How do you see this as anything but perfect?”

I moved to stand in front of him and frowned as I studied the depth in his eyes. They were too complex, and for the first time, I didn’t feel confident that I could get them right .

“There’s always something more in them.” Tentatively, I reached up and brushed two fingers down his temple.

Staying perfectly still, he kept his gaze on me.

“It changes, but it’s always there. And the color is different in every light, only by a marginal amount, but it makes it impossible to capture it just right. It pisses me off.”

His lips curved upward, and I wanted to touch them, but I pulled my hand away from his face. I’d already done too much.

“I’m challenging, then. That’s why you keep drawing me.”

I met his eyes briefly before I looked to the side. “No.”

“Oh. Well, don’t leave me in suspense.”

As I considered how to answer, I suddenly felt so small.

The weight of it all pressed down on me, suffocating me.

I was trapped with this part of me that I didn’t want.

No matter how many times I pushed it away, it came crawling back to fuck everything up.

I couldn’t kill it without doing the same to myself.

I didn’t want to think about that since it wasn’t the first time it’d come into my head.

Suddenly, he lightly pinched my chin between his thumb and index finger. He turned my face so that I was looking at him. “Tell me what’s in your head. You look...”

“What?” I asked.

“Lost.”

“I’m always lost.” Gritting my teeth, I jerked my head away to break his hold, then I stepped back. My own words made me panic, and I didn’t want him to see it, so I turned around, ready to do the thing I should’ve done ten minutes ago: run.

He latched onto my wrist and pulled me to a stop. “Cook dinner with me.”

“Why?”

Releasing me, he came around in front of me. A kind, casual smile appeared on his face. “The reason I went to the store was to get things for my favorite cold weather meal.”

“Which is?”

“Pot pies. Ever made them from scratch?”

“No.”

“It’s a bonding experience. Actually, I’ve only made them with my mom when I was younger or by myself, so I can’t say for sure. It mig ht be more akin to putting together Ikea furniture with someone, but I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

“I’m kind of tired . . .”

“No, you aren’t. If things go to shit, my knives are very sharp and it’s always likely I’ll be too distracted to defend myself fast enough.”

I rubbed the back of my neck and found myself nodding. “Yeah, that might be cool.”

“Sweet. Go change into shorts or something.”

“Uh, why?”

“Because it’s more comfortable than cooking in jeans. It’s Saturday, man. We’re supposed to be lazy.”

I looked at his basketball shorts and...were those fuzzy socks? I was ashamed to say it, but they looked comfortable as hell.

“Want a pair?” he asked when he saw me looking.

“Fuck no.”

“Let go once in a while, Roman. There’s nobody here to make you feel weird about it.”

“There’s you,” I pointed out.

“Yup, and I’ll make you feel weird if you don’t wear them.”

With a scowl, I brushed past him. If he did give me a pair after I changed, I might put them on. It was unlikely, though.