Sweet Rome

I hated being hit. Yeah, that’s a stupid thing to say. No one likes it—well, unless you sway that way in the bedroom—but for me, it just reminded me of what I’d had to go through for most of my life: pointless beatings.

“Rome tasted of mint. That’s what you wanted, right, for this ridiculous initiation task?” Molly snapped, not seeming intimidated at all by Shelly’s shit and immediately stopping me from exploding in rage.

I stared, couldn’t stop staring, as her determined gaze met mine. I needed to leave before my anger became too much or I completely snapped and began nailing Molly to the floor. “She’s right. I’d just chewed gum.”

With that, I stormed through the full room, only pausing briefly to meet Ally’s sympathetic gaze at the exit. I hit her with my best “don’t start” glare, then got the hell outta Dodge.

“Rome, Man! Wait!” Austin shouted from behind.

Swerving to face him, I held up my hand. “I’m good… I… shit, I just need to be on my own.”

“What the hell just happened? Who’s that chick? And why the f**k were you kissing her?”

I glared at my best friend, clenching my jaw. “Carillo, I’m telling you to leave it. I can’t be around Shel right now, so I’m gonna split, okay?”

“You sure?” I could see the questions in his eyes, but simply nodding, I headed up the stairs to the top floor, Ally’s private balcony calling my name.

4

Three bottles of beer, two long hours of people watching, and five texts from the folks. No… wait… I checked my phone. Make that six.

Daddy: Can’t avoid this for long, boy. Spoke to Martin Blair tonight. Looking like a summer wedding next year after graduation. Don’t f**k this up. And from now on, MAKE the arranged dinners I plan. Not a request.

I cleared the message and tipped my head back, searching the constellations above just for something to distract my mind.

Didn’t work.

Summer. A summer wedding.

Perfect.

My mind wandered to what it would be like being married, or even being in love. I couldn’t imagine it—what my ideal girl would look like, what the hell we would talk about, if she would be able to cope with my mood swings, my past.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of my dark mood, hearing laughter and music down below me in the yard. Kegs were popping, folks were doing shots, but none of it appealed, and to top it all off, I still smelled Molly’s vanilla scent on my shirt.

Damn.

I kinda liked her. The way she kissed, the way she clung to my hair, pulling me close with her fists, and, mostly, the way she wasn’t fazed by all the football shit, didn’t look at me and instantly think, Tide QB, must try and tame.

I was in the middle of chastising myself for thinking too much about Molly when suddenly, the door to Ally’s room clicked open, and I craned my neck to try and see who was there. “Al, that you?”

There was no answer, so I got to my feet, ready to kick out whichever horny bastards had sneaked in. I just wanted to be left alone. I walked into the bedroom and stopped dead.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, I thought idly.

Molly. Fucking English Molly, gripping the bedpost in shock. Molly in a tight, figure-baring toga, staring at me with those huge, stunning eyes, and Christ, if her hanging on to that post didn’t give some pretty interesting ideas.

“This room is off-limits, Mol,” I said gruffly as I zoned in on her full lips and caught the way her eyes drank in my bare arms. She was affected by me.

Good, not just me, then.

I quickly took a swig of my beer to stop the nerves. I felt nervous for the first time in my friggin’ life, and that never happened—not in football, not even when dealing with my folks—but here we were, a geeky librarian with shit dress sense weirdly unnerving me.

She lifted a key into the air and said quietly, “Yeah, I know. Ally gave me her key to use her bathroom.” I stared at her for a moment longer and turned back to the balcony, needing to put some space between us… and get away from Ally’s damn inviting bed.

Once back outside, I pulled out my chair, propped my legs up on the table, and fought my conflicted feelings. I couldn’t get the idea of inviting her here on the balcony out of my head, but I knew I should leave it and not give in to my want.

I have ten months left, I reminded myself again. I couldn’t let anything f**k that up, not even pretty English girls with the innate ability to harden my c**k on sight.

Resolute to just let my interest in her go, I settled back, once again watching the crowd below. I chuckled as I watched Jimmy-Don get hit on by the female equivalent of him: big, loud, and country to the core. The girl walked straight up to him, hooked her arm around his neck, and planted a wet one right on his shocked lips. Jimmy-fucking-Don, the best guy I knew: kind, funny, and loyal to a fault. I was happy he was finally getting some, even if the girl, from up here, looked as scary as shit.