Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(35)
Thoughts of today’s game bolted into my mind. I’d asked her to be there for me, to support me, and although it wasn’t what she wanted, she came anyway, sacrificing her precious study time… for me. Having her there completely changed my game, that kiss relaxing me for the first time in such a long time. I couldn’t ever say that about my folks, or any other chick I’d f*cked. Too many people wound me up to the point of snapping, but not Molly. She listened, comforted, and calmed me right down. Who wouldn’t become desperate to have that level of connection all the damn time?
Molly made me feel good about myself. Christ, she made me friggin’ smile, and the way she’d coped with so much shit in her own life gave me hope, hope that maybe I could get through my obstacles too… one day… maybe with her help.
Fuck it! She was worth every shitty text, every aggressive slur, and every strike I’d have coming my way.
After I’d been sitting debating my predicament for nearly an hour, I rose to my feet with a new sense of determination, scooping up more gravel as I went, and set to launching them at Molly’s closed balcony doors. I figured if that weedy f*cker Montague could get his prize this way, I had a pretty good chance of doing so as well.
Shadows danced behind the white curtains and the balcony doors opened slowly. “Shakespeare?” I called softly, checking the grounds of the sorority house to make sure no one was around.
There were a few moments filled with shuffling sounds before a mass of long brown hair fell over the balcony rail and a pair of taped-up glasses looked down at me.
“Hey, Mol,” I said, my chest already feeling lighter in her presence.
“Hey, you. What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyebrows pulled together to form a deep frown.
“I came to see you.”
She straightened some and asked, “You did? Why?”
Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I want to kiss those damn lips again so bad I can’t bear it… Then I want to continue south until I taste you on my tongue as you come and writhe against my mouth… Only to then strip you bare and f*ck you until you can’t stand. I didn’t think the truth would go over too well with a girl like Molly, so I simply replied, “Because I noticed you weren’t out. And I wanted to make sure you were okay after today. I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
Pushing her broken frames back on her nose, she asked, “Shouldn’t you be with Shelly?”
Those words caused my back to stiffen, and I snapped, “Why the f*ck would I be with her?” The very fact that Molly thought I’d be with Shelly of all people, had me steaming with rage. Shelly! Why did everything always come back to her?
Clearing her throat, Molly answered, “She was with you after the game. The two of you looked cozy. I thought you might have wanted to celebrate with her tonight.” Although she’d fought to hide it, I caught the disappointment in her voice. I got it. She’d heard all the rumors about me, about me f*cking any piece of ass that moved, so why should she trust me? Why think she was different to me?
I needed her to be convinced.
Standing directly below her and pinning her with my gaze, I pronounced, “Let’s get this straight right now. She’s not f*ckin’ anything to me. Never will be.” Molly’s entire body visibly relaxed and a small smile broke on her lips.
Wait—
“Is that why you bailed on the party? Because you thought I’d be with that conniving bitch?” Even in the dark, I could see the guilty blush smother her cheeks.
Shit. That was why she snubbed my party and why she wasn’t there for me at the end of the game.
“Rome, I just didn’t fancy the party tonight, that’s all. You go and enjoy yourself. You don’t need to check on me.” She was trying to push me away. I knew I was a scary concept to her—hell, to most—but this was one fight I wasn’t going to lose. She was one chick I wouldn’t just throw away.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her, my voice stern and laced with authority. I grimaced internally, unsure if my tone would scare her off. But hell, this was me: stubborn, strict, one hell of a moody f*cker, and harboring a desperate need to be in control.
As always, the girl surprised me, and instead of being deterred and telling me to f*ck off, she burst into hysterical laughter.
I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off or join in on the amusement. “What’re you finding so funny, Shakespeare?” I asked, a hoarse roughness to my voice.
Leaning farther forward, she sang, “That Romeo has come to my balcony to strive for my attention.” I barely even noticed she said that damn name; I was too mesmerized by the lift in her spirit.
Clasping her hands, she recited, “The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here… they will murder thee.”
“How the hell do you know that from memory?” I asked, fighting not to return the wide smile that was plastered on her damn cute face.
“I’ve read it about a hundred times. It’s beautifully tragic.” Pointing at me, then herself, she said, “Kind of like us, don’t you think?”
She’d hit the friggin’ nail on the head. We were tragic, both pretty f*cked up. But we could be f*cked-up together, balance it out.