Chapter 19
The slow thud of a headache beats behind my eyes. It could be the math. Calculus III sucks. Or it could be the continuous clench of my teeth. Ignoring Romeo’s hotness is entirely too hard.
We sit on the rug with our backs against his bed and our books in our laps. Crumpled papers covered in long calculations lay between us. Romeo’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He isn’t wearing shoes and even the sight of his naked feet is sexy. Each time he leans over and explains something, I catch the scent of clean shampoo, minty mouthwash, and a subtle spice I’m guessing is body wash, which puts inappropriate images in my head. Beyond the fact that we’re in a band together and he’s a player, is the fact that I shouldn’t be thinking of him all sudsy in the shower while I’m studying for a class I could fail.
I’m starting to understand thirteen-year-old boys. I need to get a grip on my hormones.
“What’d you get?” Romeo asks.
I tell him the number on the calculator.
He shakes his head and shows me the screen of his calculator.
Fuck. Whenever I’m wrong, he gets close. And my head swirls. If it isn’t his smell, it’s the brush of his muscled arm on mine. Or the concentrated look in those dark eyes. Or the pout of those full lips while he thinks of how to explain something. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but his close proximity is bordering on torture.
Of course, he leans over and points to the diagram in the book. The skin of his arm slides over mine. “I’m going to guess you missed the inner ledge here.” A musician’s finger traces the drawing in my textbook while his scent surrounds me.
Shower spray and muscles covered with bubbles flash through my mind. “Yeah, you’re right. I keep forgetting those little surfaces,” I say, keeping my gaze on the tubular drawing.
“Take a break while I go change laundry?” He shifts back to his spot and I allow myself to breathe again.
I force a weak smile and nod. “My brain’s getting fried.”
“The library would have been easier, huh?” he asks, standing and stretching.
I have to force a nod. His jeans ride low. Between hipbones, ridged stomach muscles flex. Holy hell. I resist fanning myself with my notebook and gaze around the room. “It’s kind of odd that you and Justin live here,” I say, stupidly looking for anything to get my thoughts off his body.
He reaches for the empty basket on the bed. “You mean in the dorm?”
“Ah, yeah. Why don’t you guys have an apartment like Sam?”
He shrugs. “Dorm’s paid for. I’m here on a variety of academic scholarships. Justin’s parents won’t splurge for an apartment until his GPA comes up.” He moves to the door. “There’s water and pop in the fridge. Be back in fifteen.”
As soon as he’s gone, I do fan myself. Shit. I wonder if my face is flushed. I get up and look in the mirror above Romeo’s dresser. Relief fills me at the sight of my normal skin tone. I stick my tongue out at my reflection. I spent way too long getting ready this morning and destroyed my room picking out clothes. I didn’t want to look like a slob but overdressing was out of the question. After feeling a bit too much like Chloe, I settled on my favorite pair of jeans and a mauve sweater that brightens my light brown eyes. Then I spent more time getting my makeup right. Not too much, but just enough. Ugh. All of that just to study.
Refusing to think of what all that primping says about me or my motivations, I examine the items on the dresser. A brush, Chap Stick, a stack of papers, and a tube of hair gel look lonely and too neat. Except for the small picture of an older man sitting on a stool and playing a fiddle that’s stuck to the corner of the mirror, Romeo’s dresser screams boring. The huge mess of papers, hair products, gum wrappers, and pile of clothes on Justin’s dresser scream slob.
I move toward the back of the room. Justin’s desk is even messier than his dresser. Romeo’s is neat and orderly. A closed laptop sits in the center. A non-descript cup holds pencils and pens. Books fill the bottom shelf. Three pictures line the top shelf. Thankfully, none are of April. One shows a pretty, dark haired woman holding a toddler. Both are smiling. Another is of the old man from the dresser. This time he plays an accordion in front of a microphone. And the last is another of the old man holding up a boy who lifts up a red, white, and blue stripped belt in between boxing gloves. I pick up the last picture for a closer look. The dark haired boy is obviously Romeo.
“Thought I ruled the world at age eleven with my first title,” Romeo says from behind me and I almost drop the picture.
I didn’t even hear him come in. Startled, I almost drop the picture. “Was the man your coach?”
“And my grandfather.”
I turn. He’s too close but luckily looking at the picture in my hand. “The musical one?”
He nods. “Boxing and music were his life.”
His voice is almost wistful. I clear my throat. “Marcus said something about you boxing here at the university before.”
Dark eyes narrow.
Does it bother him that Marcus and I talked about him? I lean a hip on the desk. “It was when you were in the cafeteria with all those boys.”
He sets the basket filled with folded clothes on the chair in front of the desk. His expression eases as he crosses his arms and sits halfway on top of the desk. “Any sport at the this level is a huge commitment, even out of season. I trained and studied, and that was about it. I missed life. I missed music. I was poorer than shit without a job. I decided to quit and start a band. It just made sense at the time.”
I can’t help a smile. “Well, music makes more sense to me than boxing.”
“Me too,” he says while his gaze goes back to the picture. “But it was a hard decision. My grandfather boxed for half his life. He never made it big, but he was good enough to make a living at it. He wanted me to go farther than him, but I just didn’t have the same drive for the sport as he did. But I do have that drive for music.”
I lower the picture to my side. “So you want to take the band past college?” I joined to keep playing drums. The idea of anything bigger scares me.
He shakes his head. “I’m majoring in music. Minoring business. I’m thinking of getting a master’s degree in music technology and production next or something in a related field.”
“You want to produce music?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure, but a degree in performance seems useless to me.”
I frown at him. I’ve considered a performance degree.
His lips twist into a slight smirk. “I’m not saying people shouldn’t get them, but I’m getting the experience I want through the band.”
“Managing experience too?”
He nods.
I blink. “Um…wow, you have everything perfectly planned out.”
“You must have some plans.”
A miserable laugh escapes me. “My plan was to get to an out of state college and play the drums. Education was part of the packaged deal.”
He raises a questioning brow.
“This is going to sound stupid, but back in freshman year of high school they drilled college down our throats. Probably hoping we’d become serious students. Well it worked with me. I became obsessed with the idea of moving away and going to school. My parents had a modest college fund going for me. I was a good, not awesome student. However, I did play the drums awesomely and our school went to several competitions throughout the year.” I shrug. “I became obsessed with getting a percussion scholarship.”
His chin tilts. “You did get one.”
“I did, but things didn’t work out.”
“Your mom?”
I nod. “And my sister.”
His eyes turn into melting dark chocolate. “That’s pretty amazing for you to give up your dream for them.”
“Ah yeah, it doesn’t always feel amazing,” I say while my cheeks heat. Feeling warmer by the second under his gaze, I set the picture on the shelf. “Between the scholarships and the band, I’m sure your grandfather’s still proud of you even though you don’t box.”
“He would be.”
“Oh…” my eyes round with the knowledge that his grandfather must have passed away. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It’s been over five years.”
I don’t entirely believe him. Obviously, his grandfather was someone important in his life. “Well you’re still involved with boxing right? You were pretty impressive keeping that group of boys controlled.”
“I’m shocked,” he says with a grin.
“Why?” I say slowly, confused by his announcement.
He leans closer. “You, drummer extraordinaire, just complimented me.”
Ah, so that was the reason for his astonishment. I lean over the desk too. “Was that a return compliment?”
His full mouth curls into a wide smile. “I believe it was.”
My eyes lock on that mouth for two seconds too long. When I look up, Romeo is watching me. My whole body warms. “We should get back to studying.”
His lashes lower. “We should,” he says but sways just the tinniest bit closer.
I sway in too.
The sound of someone turning the doorknob has us jumping apart.
Justin walks in. I’m in the corner next to the little fridge while Romeo sits on the desk with his arms crossed. Justin looks between us. “What’s going on?”
Hell, my face burns at his words.
Romeo flicks a finger to our Calculus books lying on the floor. “We’re just taking a break from studying.”
I bend down and grab the first thing my fingers come into contact with in the fridge. Unscrewing the water, I let out a little laugh. “It’s more like tutoring. I’m not doing too hot in the class,” I say, hoping Justin will buy my embarrassment as academic.
Justin finally pulls his eyes from us then moves to the mess on his dresser. “Well you came to the right place. Nobody’s as smart as Romeo,” he says sarcastically.
Romeo gives him a level look.
I let out another little laugh. “Yeah, I just might pass tomorrow’s test.”
Justin plucks a beanie from the tumbling mound on his dresser before yanking out a jacket from the closet. “Sam’s having a poker party at his apartment if you get done early.” He opens the door. “Twenty will get you in.”
“Um…maybe,” I say still feeling like an idiot.
Justin nods. “Later losers,” he says, shutting the door.
Romeo stands. “Fuck,” he snarls, turns, and punches the wall.
The water almost slips from my grip as I step back and run into the fridge.
“I told myself this wouldn’t happen.” He holds his fist. “Between the band and your boyfriend, I’m acting like a fucking idiot.”
His actions and his words shock me, but two words have me completely confused. “My boyfriend?”
He gives me a cold look. “Goes by the name Marcus.”
What the hell? “Marcus isn’t my boyfriend.”
He raises a brow. “You broke up?”
I shake my head. “We’ve been friends since second grade. Nothing more.”
His gaze becomes pinpoints as he folds out one finger. “You guys practically cuddled at band tryouts.” He folds out another finger. “Him getting busy with another girl had you shit crazy.” He folds out a third finger. “I referred to you as his girlfriend and he never denied it.”
I wince. Though I’m still upset about how he treated Chloe, I’d been feeling sorry for Marcus. Romeo’s revelation has me pissed again.
“Marcus was never my boyfriend.” I set the water on the desk. My hands fist on my hips. “You read the first two wrong. The third is a lie by omission. But how can you even spout this crap at me when it’s obvious you’re at least dating April?”
He crosses his arms, leans against the desk, and gives me a level look. “I dated April last year, but we’re just good friends now.”
Everything inside of me pauses at that news.
Romeo sighs and folds his arms behind his neck. “None of this shit matters because if Sam or Justin ever knew we messed around…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence and I don’t tell him I know about his asinine pact from Justin. “I should go.”
I start throwing stuff in my bag. The fact that he’d kick me out of the band if someone else hit on me pisses me off. That he’s the one who hit—man whore Justin doesn’t really count—on me pisses me off more. Or maybe it was me who hit on him first. Whatever. “Let’s just forget about this again.” I stand slowly and meet Romeo’s gaze even slower before lifting my chin. “And other than band practice and Calculus, I think we should stay away from each other.”
His eyes nearly burn me to the spot. His full lips are drawn into a thin line, but he only nods.
“Thanks for the help,” I say over my shoulder before shutting the door.
I walk out the building in a strange daze while replaying the last hour over in my head and trying to figure out where things went wrong. Of course, the almost kiss was the beginning of the end of our truce.
“Riley?”
About to open my car door, I look up to see Marcus getting out of his car. He rushes over to me. “What are you doing here?” His hopeful tone—he must be thinking I came to see him—helps reduce my anger at him.
“I was studying with Romeo. We have Calc III together.”
His face falls but he asks, “You’re tutoring him?”
My laugh is miserable. “Ah no. I’m actually having trouble in that class.”
He twirls his key ring around his finger and tries to look nonchalant. “Look Riley, I’m sorry if I put you on the spot last night, but I’m not going to take it back. I’m bat shit crazy about you. However, I won’t pressure you or anything. Things can stay like they are. Or maybe you’ll come to your senses,” he adds with a grin.
His lame attempt at flirting has me gritting my teeth because no matter what he says, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t like me that way. For whatever reason he’s talked himself into thinking I’m the one. “Tell me something, Marcus. Is there anyone other than Romeo, who you let believe I was your girlfriend?”
His eyes round while his feet shuffle over the curb. “No…It’s just after we saw the band that first time, he seemed to be fishing for information about you, which I thought was odd. So I let it slide when he referred to you as my girlfriend.”
How many times can I want to junk punch him in twenty-four hours? “You were protecting me?”
“Yeah,” Marcus agrees with a slow smile.
I unlock my door and throw my book bag across to the passenger side. A multitude of bitchy wants to erupt out of my mouth. I check it. My relationship with Marcus is already heading into disaster. “Regardless of your feelings, please don’t ever lie about me again.”
Marcus’s smile fades.
I shut the door, turn the ignition, and back up without looking at my male best friend. I drive home in frustration. Marcus thinks he’s in love with me, but I’m pretty sure he’s majorly interested in Chloe. He just can’t seem to admit it to himself. Then there’s Romeo. He may be a player, but I’m becoming aware the intense attraction between us isn’t one sided. And the fact he was asking about me after the first concert is beyond weird. We didn’t even talk to one another that night. He just caught me staring and couldn’t have been attracted to me. I looked like crap after skateboarding then crying. And that was before Chloe’s makeover that everyone seems to find so sexy.
So why was he asking about me?