All I've Never Wanted(109)

My dad (who had been about to come in and punch Roman if my mom hadn't held him back):

*Attempts to give me the birds and bees talk, even though my mom fully gave me that talk when I was thirteen* Luckily, he failed, seeing as how I walked out of the room after about ten seconds because a) that’s a highly awkward and traumatizing conversation and b) I still haven’t really forgiven him yet.

Venice:

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! You’re dating Roman Fiori!!! Oh my god! That’s amazing! How did you do it? Tell me about the kiss! He got you a puppy? He did?! Aaaahhh!” *Carries on this way for ten minutes before fainting*

That last one was how I ended up in the emergency room, since I wanted to make sure my best friend didn’t get a concussion from fainting on a tile floor. Luckily, she didn’t. Unluckily, she still remembered why she fainted.

When I told Roman what happened, he laughed. Laughed, like the whole thing was hilarious.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” I grumbled, reaching down to pet Mickey good-bye. He let out a low whine, staring up at me with those sad puppy eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me that way, baby,” I cooed. “I promise I’ll be back soon. If you’re a good boy I’ll even bring back lots of doggie treats for you.”

He stopped whining and stood up on his hind legs, pawing my leg adoringly.

I grinned. He was so adorable! I’m so glad I managed to convince my parents to let me keep him. I picked Mickey up, waving one of its paws at Roman. “Say ‘bye, Roman.’” I smiled mischievously at my boyfriend. Boyfriend. Just the word caused my heart to flutter.

“Rome, say bye to Mickey.”

Roman rolled his eyes, looking annoyed. I think he seriously regrets ever buying me the puppy. “He’s a dog. It’s not like he understands.”

I gave him my own puppy dog face.

“Fine,” he finally groused, glaring at Mickey. “Bye, Mickey.”

In response, Mickey stuck up his nose and turned his head away.

I burst out laughing at the look on Roman’s face. “Come on, let’s go.” I set Mickey down on the floor and pushed a highly offended Roman out the door.

“Talk about ingratitude. I was the one who bought that little mutt,” he grumbled angrily, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“He’s not a mutt,” I defended. “Besides, I’m the one who feeds and bathes him.”

“Whatever.” Roman yanked open the passenger side door. “Just get in.”

Despite his gruff words, I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re such a gentleman.”

After two weeks of officially dating, I was beginning to see how much of a softie he really was under that cold, icy fa?ade, a fa?ade which was slowly melting, much to everyone’s delight.

“Don’t think that came for free,” Roman said with a smirk as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Oh really?” I raised a challenging eyebrow, but I can feel anticipation coursing through me.

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long, because at that moment he leaned across my seat and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. Even after half a month, I was surprised by how tender he could be. Of course, he did threaten to take Mickey away if I ever breathed a word about his “softer” side to other people.

I went along with it, although I highly doubt he’d be able to wrest Mickey away. That dog was too doggone smart (pun intended).

“Where are we going?” I asked as his Ferrari flew through Valesca’s streets to some unknown destination.

“You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously.

Hmm. Well, color me intrigued.

An hour and a half later, we were two towns over, parked in front of a…carnival, only this time, it wasn’t filled with celebrities. There were just regular people: couples on dates, families with laughing kids, all running around eating cotton candy and waiting impatiently for their turn at one of the many popular games.

“I thought that since I, er, cut your last carnival experience short, I’d make it up to you,” Roman said sheepishly, turning off the engine. “I know this is a bit different than Hawaii, but it’s probably better than just dinner and a movie, right?”


My heart swelled so much it nearly burst out of my chest. He could be so darn thoughtful sometimes. “This is way better,” I agreed softly. “This is perfect.”

Roman smiled happily at that, and he got out of the car to open the door for me, grasping my hand firmly in his as we wandered through the carnival.

Honestly, I liked this better than the Hawaii one. The Perrys’ over-the-top birthday party had been amazing, but this carnival was more down-to-earth. More real.

After we’d stuffed ourselves with cotton candy and popcorn and went on almost every ride twice (and rode the Ferris Wheel three times) we decided to try and win one of the giant stuffed animal prizes at what seemed to be the most popular booth. At least, I decided and Roman had no choice but to tag along.

It turned out to be an utterly classic carnival game: the plate toss. If you tossed a dime and it landed in the center of the plate, you won a prize.

Since my hand-eye coordination was somewhere south of zero, I turned to Roman with pleading eyes.

He sighed and held up a hand. “Don’t even ask,” he grumbled, as the booth operator handed him a dime with a toothy smile.