Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 66

"The walk is short to the coffee place, and I smile, stepping inside with him. I was feeling nagged by these questions about our relationship, and now I'd finally get some answers.

We sit down and order our drinks. I get a muffin with butter too. They looked too good to pass up.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" He asks with a shrug, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"Tell me about your family," I shrug, starting easy, and he shrugs in return.

"My dad worked on Wall Street; I told you that. Mom was a stay-at-home wife. I don't have any brothers or sisters."

"None?" I ask, and he nods. "Sounds sort of lonely."

"It wasn't all bad. I had a lot of friends growing up," he insists, and I smile. "Tell me about yours," he adds, and I furrow my eyebrows.

"I-I have told you about them," I answer, feeling worried. "A lot. I love my family. We're really close."

"Right, yeah," he shrugs. "Of course, I was just making conversation."

Weird start, Dane. This weird silence falls between us, and I feel my stomach twist up. This was truly what I worried about; you take away all the distractions and fun stuff, and you end up with...this. This awkward nonsense where two people who have been dating for weeks can't hold up a conversation.

In an ideal world, you're supposed to like talking to the person you're in a relationship with. It's supposed to feel easy and effortless to be with them. Everything felt like effort with Dane. He wasn't nearly as confident and smooth as I pictured him. He didn't have whatever I needed to properly come out of my shell.

"Well...tell me a memory with them? Something you did once that you still think about?"

"We took a trip to Montreal when I was about eleven," he shrugs. "Dad worked in New York, but Mom and I lived in Seattle. He'd travel back and forth, so I didn't see him a whole lot; that was our only family trip."

"I've never been to Canada; what was it like?"

"Montreal's a French city; most locals speak this weird...aggressive French, but it's an interesting place," he admits, and I nod. "It would make for a really interesting weekend getaway." I swallow the lump that forms in my throat at that statement. "What if I took you for your fall break?"

"I always spend that weekend with my parents," I remind him. "I couldn't."

"Well, how about some other weekend? What's your schedule like?"

"I can't do that, Dane."

"Why not, Juls?" He asks, sounding frustrated. "Are you afraid of being alone with me or something? You never seem to want to rearrange your schedule for me when I would for you in a heartbeat." He sighs, and I press my lips together, looking down at my coffee. "And now I've upset you," he mumbles, stirring his black coffee.

"Look, Juls, you never want to spend the night. You fork up excuses left and right about why you need to go home...do you even know how weird it is that we've never kissed?" He hisses, and I sigh. "I'm just stating facts. I don't care if you're a virgin or if I'm your first boyfriend."

"What?" I ask, feeling really irritated. What a jerk. "Are you serious right now?"

"I have needs, Juls. I've been really patient, and you think talking to you about my childhood is going to patch up this distance between us?" He asks, sounding annoyed.

"You have needs, do you?" I ask, feeling frustrated, and he chews the inside of his cheek. "Use your right hand, Dane. Get over it. I'm trying to do something real, and you want to start talking about sex? You think that's the problem between us?"

"I think it's one of them," he admits, sounding calm, like he'd been doing a lot of thinking on this. "How much more could you possibly want from me, Juls?"

"I want you to actually care about me," I shrug, crossing my arms. "You don't listen to me."

"I listen to you, Juls. Trust me, we talk all the time, and I listen," he sighs.

"Really?" I ask. "My parents, the ones I mention at least once every time we meet up and who you're meeting tonight...what are their names?"

"That's not fair; you call them 'mom' and 'dad,' how would I remember?" He asks, and I laugh. I bet Kent could remember my mom's name.

"What's my honors thesis?" I ask with a defiant shrug.

"I-I don't know...something about early modern studies?" He suggests, and I sigh.

"That's my major," I retort, starting to worry. "Can you even name one of my friends by name?" I ask, blinking at him, and he clears his throat.

"Cathy, the brunette you introduced me to on Halloween," he says, sounding confident, and I close my eyes with a sigh.

"Her name's Abby," I whisper. "And that's not the first time I've reminded you."

"So what if I don't know your friends' names? What can you tell me about me, since you claim we spend so much time together that you're the only one listening?" He retorts, and I sigh.

"You match your dress socks to your ties; you only own suits in two colors, and you never repeat the same one two days in a row. I know you start your mornings by going to the gym in the basement of your building. You only drink your coffee black; you do your morning routine in alphabetical order. I know you have friends that I've never met; their names are Jason, Malik, and Devon; you talk about them all the time." I answer, blowing out a tense breath and folding my hands. "You want me to keep going? Because I've got more."

He just sits there quietly, looking confused, shocked. I cross my arms with a shrug. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.