Page 70 of Inside Out

“Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.”

~Benjamin Franklin

“Pick your battles; know when to speak and when to ignore.”

~Julius Shepherd

“Who are you supposed to be again?” I asked Rome as he tied a cape around his neck and reached for a wig. We’d rented a hotel room in Columbus so we could attend his friend’s Halloween party and be in town the next morning to have brunch with his family. I was really looking forward to meeting them.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked with a quirked brow. The wig was dark brown, wavy, and nearly touched Rome’s shoulders when he had it positioned correctly.

I stood back and gave him another once-over. Rome wore black, shiny shoes with large gold buckles, and ivory stockings beneath blue velvet pants that ended at his knees. He paired it with a double-breasted, velvet jacket in the same color of blue and an ivory silk shirt that tied at his throat. He capped off his outfit with a black satin cape.

“I have no idea. I can tell by the outfit it’s the late nineteenth century though.”

Rome slipped his arm around my waist and nuzzled his lips against my neck. “‘I can resist everything except temptation.’”

“I’ve heard that one, but I’m not sure which of the lecherous poets said it.”

“Lecherous poets?” Rome scoffed. “Is that what you think of me when I write you such beautiful words?”

“It loses the wow factor when you send your poems in a text message.”

Rome covered his heart like he was in pain then cleared his throat. “‘Roses are red, violets are blue. I’m naked in your bed, and I’m waiting for you.’ Tell me that didn’t motivate you to wrap up your parent conferences and get home quicker.”

“Lecherous poets,” I pointed out. “You didn’t woo me with words about my eyes or my lips or the way I made you feel. You wanted me to come home and fuck you.”

“That’s romantic,” Rome countered. “And it worked.”

“Hell yes, it did. I still don’t know who you dressed up as.”

“Oscar Wilde,” he said on a disappointed huff. “You’re going to freeze in your costume.”

“We’re not walking a great distance, right?”

“We’re taking a Lyft there and back. That way neither of us need to worry about drinking and driving. We can just relax and have a good time.” Rome raked his hot eyes over the expanse of legs showing between the hem of my too-short shorts and my crew socks with the red stripes around the top. “I’m not sure I’ll like other guys ogling your legs in those shorts.”

“I’m not sure I’ll like them looking at those velvet pants clinging to your ass either.”

“You’re going to be the only man I want in that house,” Rome said, leaning forward to kiss me.

“I only want you too.”

Rome’s smile said he loved hearing the words, but I started wondering lately if he believed them. He still made occasional comments about our age difference in the guise of a joke, usually referencing that a movie, song, or a show was way before my time. He always chuckled, but I couldn’t help but think perhaps he was more bothered by our age difference than I realized. Maybe it was time to bring out the bad teacher again to give another positive reinforcement lesson.

I wanted to address his comments and clear the air, but not before we were due at his friend’s house. I didn’t want to risk creating tension and ruin our night. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed him long and hard, hoping he could feel how much I wanted to be with him. I’d told Rome that I was in love with him, but I needed him to feel it deep down in his marrow.

Rome’s eyes stayed closed a few heartbeats after I pulled back from the kiss. I saw desire and adoration in his gaze when he looked at me once more. “We could just stay here and order room service.”

“And hurt your friend’s feelings? We at least need to make an appearance.”

“Fine,” Rome conceded. “We’re not staying long though.”

Sometimes five minutes is too long in certain circumstances. I knew I was far out of my league when the hired car drove down a long driveway that ran alongside a rectangular reflection pool. I was stunned when the driveway curved, and the Greek revival house came into view.

“Holy crap,” I whispered to myself as I slid from the car.

Rome thanked the Lyft driver then placed his palm at the small of my back and led me up the huge steps toward the front door. The porch had wide marble columns extending up to the roofline of the house. There was a second-story balcony that overlooked the front of the property and would offer spectacular views of the city.