Take-Out Dinner
It’s been two weeks since she ran out of that door in a hurry. “You can’t run away from your own feelings.” She remembers him saying. It’s true. It was stupid. She was afraid of her own feelings and fled as if he was the one who scared her away.
Roman had been nothing but friendly to her. However, he insisted that he wasn’t her friend. They were business partners now, and things have been going fine. He’d been trying to get her to spend more personal time with him, but she declined every time.
But that night, she felt ready. She was tired from working all day and hungry. The thought of having to go home and eat by herself felt stale. Declan will be home late as he has been for weeks. The raincheck to have dinner at Sebastian’s was gone and forgotten.
She walked into Ludus. The place was different at night, more private, personal, and felt like home. She loved it for that, and the smell of the floral diffuser was delightful.
She got to The Heart and looked at the room from the doorway, listening to the sound of the beating when someone knocked on the glass door. She turned to look. A delivery man raised two bags in each of his hands.
She heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Roman fresh out of the shower running to get the food delivery he had ordered.
“Oh, you’re here … great … food is here; I hope you like Sebastian’s,” he said as he passed her by.
She raised her brows and curved her lips, Sebastian’s a little fancy for takeout, but it’s one of her favorite restaurants. Eating it from the box at a bachelor pad was something she never imagined she would be doing.
But there she was, sitting in one of his dining chairs, a small table for two by the pantry, looking at his living room with a huge flat TV in front of a leather sofa. The whole floor was a huge flat without any walls separating the rooms. His messy king-size bed was further behind the sofa on a higher level; there were three small steps to get to the bed.
The windows and the door to the balcony were facing her studio; she was looking straight at it from where she was sitting. She ate in silence as she scanned the whole floor; the bed was a distraction and also a reminder that it was not a good idea to be spending time there alone with him.
“It’s nice to have someone to eat with once in a while,” he broke the silence.
She couldn’t agree more, “You don’t go out?”
“I do … sometimes … but mostly I eat my dinner here … by myself.”
She looked at her watch, “It’s almost 9. Do you usually eat dinner at this time?”
He chuckled, “No … I already ate dinner at 7, but I saw you across the street working and figured you hadn’t eaten.”
She paused, “Where do you usually go at night? Do you hang out with your friends?”
He shrugged, “Around … sometimes with friends, I don’t have many friends left here … I left Lancaster 10 years ago, most of my old friends have moved away, married, I meet new people at bars and clubs, but …” he lifted his shoulder, “I do have artists friends, and they’re all busy working and being … strange.”
She laughed, “Are artists really like that? Strange?”
“Most of them are … not strange, they just function differently … more of a loner, not very mainstream, you know what I mean?”
She nodded, “I know … I’m like that too sometimes.”
He smiled, “Me too … what about you? Where do you go at night?”
“Home … mostly … out drinking with friends, rarely. Declan likes to come with me when I go out drinking because my friends are his colleague’s wives, so …”
He looked at her, “A woman like you shouldn’t be left alone very often,” he smirked.
She didn’t reply; she was finished and walked over to the pantry to clean up after herself.
“Just leave it there. I’ll clean it up later … I wanted to show you something on the third floor,” he said.
“New items?”
“No … ” he stood up and put his empty box on the counter, “Something I thought you might appreciate.”
Before she could answer, his hand was holding hers as he led her the way to the stairs to go down. His hand was warm, calloused, yet familiar because it once held her for days without wanting to let her go.
‘PRIVATE: Do Not Enter’ is the sign on the door. He unlocked it with his key. The door opens to a dark room. When he turned the light switch, the studio was extended to her left and right. The white walls were covered with pictures of all shapes and sizes. Pictures that tell his journey from all over the world. Places and objects that had a special place in his heart.
Pictures of her that he took without her even knowing it. There were a series of photographs of her on the ship, the ones she knew he took, even the ones in the bedroom where she was only covered in sheets. Others were when she was eating, the ones she was watching the dolphins. The ones on the island where they rendezvous together for two nights.
There were thousands of them. Olivia was stunned by what she was seeing. She walked closer to the smaller ones. On her birthday. In her office. Walking down the streets. They were taken candidly but also artistically. She turned to look at him; she was speechless.
“Do you like them? I know I’ve taken them in secret; I guess it’s my habit as a photographer … I take snapshots of the beautiful things I find every day.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.
It was his defense. He was a photographer; he didn’t always ask permission for what he wanted to capture with his camera.
She turned to look at them again. The pictures showed a different light of her; she rarely saw that side of her in a photograph, and she couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was the angle, the lightning, or the distance he was taking them from. “I look different in these pictures.”
He walked closer, “Really? That’s exactly how I see you.”
He touched one of the pictures of her face and rubbed it with his thumb. His muse. His lover. Olivia had no idea that, in his mind, she was his girlfriend. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“I wish you hadn’t kept that one, though,” Olivia pointed to the one where she was wrapped in sheets without anything else underneath. She was laughing wide on the bed where they had made love just minutes before. It was a beautiful picture, but if it ever got out of that room, she would be in big trouble.
He tilted one side of his lips, “That’s my absolute favorite … look how happy you are in it.”
They fell silent. She took a better look at it. He was right. She looked very happy, and it made her feel terrible now that she was seeing it on paper. How could she be so happy doing something so wrong?
Her phone rang. Declan. Her heart pulsated quickly.
Declan: Hi, sweetheart … are you still at the studio?
Olivia: Mmm … yeah, why? What’s the matter?
Declan: Nothing, I just got off work, I thought I swing by there and pick you up.
Olivia: Oh … are you close?
Declan: I called the house, and you weren’t picking up; I’m close to home … I’m turning right now; I’ll be there in 10 minutes?
Olivia: Oh … okay … I’ll finish up … let me know when you’re close.
Declan: Sure, text you later, bye.
Roman was folding his arms in front of him and leaning against the wall. “He’s picking you up?”
She pursed her lips, “Yeah, he’s on his way … I guess I’ll be leaving.”
He nodded.
“It’s a remarkable room,” she chuckled. She didn’t know how else to describe it. “It’s just that …” The room seemed to expose her; she wasn’t comfortable with it.
“This room is locked at all times … I’m the only one who has the key … you don’t have to worry about that.”
She let out a silent sigh, “I have to go now … I’ll see you tomorrow? We’re going to a client’s house at 11.”
“Yeah … I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for dinner … I can see myself out,” she smiled and walked past him out the door.
She took small steps out of Ludus to cross the street back to her studio. Declan will arrive soon, and she didn’t want him to see her coming out of the gallery. As she crossed the street, a camera flickered, following her footsteps. It came from a car that was parked a few doors away from her studio. She had no idea; Roman’s lens was not the only one that tried to capture her every move.