Pure Love

My eyes were suddenly shrewd. "Ruth's love is real.
"It is," he agreed wholeheartedly. "She had to leave her family as well. It was proving to be more dangerous with her around and I think she kind of adopted the role of my grandmother. "
"What do you guys do, specifically?"
"We're spies," he said, his eyes burned with sincerity for a moment — his gaze increasing blood flow to my brain in all the right places— and then he smiled. "Secret Agents."
I took a huge breath, calming myself considerably before I spoke. "What exactly do secret agents do?"
With a litte tilt of the head, Roman allowed his eyes to scan me, taking me in. It was as though he was trying to figure something out by looking at the surface. Whatever it was that he was looking for must've not been there for a disgruntled look masked his features.
"My job is to find out the secrets of other governments, especially unfriendly foreign countries."
"When did you get in?"
His smile was condescending now. "I was twenty-one.
"Shouldn't you avoid attention?" I asked, though I was not well informed on the subject, I knew that much.
"I'm actually trying to attract the attention of people who have been laying low," he told me. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. I can't tell you much about the job itself, I'm sorry."
I stood silently, staring at Roman's grave. If he hadn't told me, I wouldn't even have guessed what his true line of work was.
"What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few minutes.
"I'm just wondering about your parents," I said quickly. "Your real parents. What were they like, on those rare occasions when your mother was substance free, normal?"
That made him smile down at me. "My father wanted me to be like him, a cop." He grimaced, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I can't imagine you in uniform." Though he would totally rock it, I thought with envy. He could get away with anything. I realized with great chagrin.
He frowned. "Neither can I," he agreed pleasantly and then his face grew grave again. "He didn't get me at all. I was nothing like him. He lived for the people, chose to see good in everyone. I was quite a rebellious teen growing up."
"And your mother?"
He didn't answer. He took a deep breath and stared through narrowed eyes at the thick, heavy clouds, almost within reach.
"She got you," I said more to myself than him. I kept my expression firmly frozen, skilling it to give nothing away.
"But she was also very hypocritical," he said with another smile.
Our eyes met and locked, the silence stretched out — and suddenly shifted. The electric shock from earlier surged into the moody atmosphere as he gazed, unwavering into my eyes. I realized I didn't need any drugs that would stimulate dopamine transmission, being with Roman was enough of an addiction. My breathing ceased and the trees and Roman lost shape. I realized I'd stopped breathing.
I hoped he didn't see what an effect he had on me.
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine frantically. "She wanted to keep the peace instead of choosing a side." His voice was much more husky than usual.
"That's what a mother's role is," I said, my head still yet to clear.
"And you, will that be your role?" His voice was more in control now.
"No," I said too quickly and he laughed. "I've already chosen you. In fact, the choice wasn't mine to make." I admitted. My fate was already decided the day I first saw those blue eyes.
I smiled wider at him. "And your other parents?" I asked, he joined me as I cleaned his mother's grave. "If you'd told me we were coming here I'd have brought flowers."
He looked at me apologetically. "Kate and Julius are great," he mumbled in awe. "Kate is the computer wizard, Julius has all the fighting skills. They are not together though, Kate has a husband who doesn't know about our world. No one is supposed to know. Julius is not married but he does have kids."
I enjoyed the comfortable silence that followed, and once or twice I would steal glances at him, always afraid that he would disappear. I glanced up again — on instinct — to steal a look at his stunning perfection and stifled a gasp. His face was mere inches from mine, he smiled that beautiful smile that made me melt at the knees, his eyes were intense, staring at my face with profound curiosity. He was too perfect for me, I admitted inwardly with a sigh of despair.
"We should be going home." He stared at me, troubled by my tormented expression.
I couldn't find my voice.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he confessed with self hate. "I'm sorry."
I ignored that. "Okay, let's go."
He helped me to my feet and as we walked back to the car, that feeling of spasms shooting through my body was back.
I hardly felt the ride back home; in fact the whole weekend felt like a mere second. He was asking me questions nobody had ever bothered to ask me before — what I normally did before bed, who my friends were, what my favorite weather was, what I thought about the newly elected president.
That started a debate by itself but he was more interested in my views, listening with great intent, his eyes shifting between my mouth and eyes. I was worried that I was wasting his time, that surely he had better things to do than listen to me tell him every insignificant detail about my boring life.
I was sure I had never talked for such a long time in my life. That night he never allowed me to shut up enough for my body to send a signal to my brain that I was hungry. We sat up the whole night talking — I did most of the talking. He was so utterly involved in the conversation that my eyes welled. How could someone — least of all Roman — find anything I said compelling?
But there he sat, on his bed, hanging on to my every word. And once when his cell phone had vibrated he didn't even glance at it.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" I asked, worried that it might be Ruth or the president or someone equally important.
"Nah," he shook his head. "I'll call them back in the morning."
"But it could be important," I persisted with urgency.
"This" — he waved a hand between us — "is more important, Nuru."
As expected I flushed.