Chapter 42: Roleplaying

My stomach flip-flops. "This is silly." This is already awkward enough without pretending Roman is Luca Fontaine.

"Try," Roman says, as if he were urging me to eat my vegetables or something equally mundane.

But as strange as the request might be, as nervous as it makes me, I find myself wanting to rise to the challenge. To prove to myself - and to him - that I can take the initiative, that I can lead the course of a seduction.

"I look at his drink," I say. "And then I order the same thing."

"That could be dangerous," Roman says. "If you do that, he might want to start a conversation with you about his drink of choice. He'll notice if you don't know what you're talking about. You'll lose his trust right from the start."

"I'll order my own drink, then," I say. "A Long Island." Historically, Long Island Iced Teas aren't exactly my friend, but in this imaginary lounge, I'm willing to take the chance.

"Good choice," he says. I'm not sure whether that's coming from Roman or "Luca," so