Sweet Home

by Tillie Cole

  I reached the far side of the room when a dismembered voice from the balcony called out, “Al, that you?”

  I jumped and held my chest, my heart thundering at the fright. I leaned against the bedpost when the owner of the voice entered the dark room.

  Rome.

  I glanced up to see him staring at me, obviously taken aback by my presence.

  “This room is off limits, Mol,” he said rather curtly as he took a gulp of beer from his brown bottle.

  Mol. I loved how his tongue rolled around my name. No one had ever called me Mol, but one utterance from his lips had me petitioning to change my name.

  I straightened nervously, his gruff voice stunting my breath, and dangled the key in the glow of the moonlight. “Yeah, I know. Ally gave me her key to use her bathroom.”

  With a lick of his lips and without another word, he stalked back onto the secluded balcony terrace on his bare feet. I watched him go and scurried to the bathroom. I quickly took care of my needs and stared into the mirror, willing myself to pull it together.

  I borrowed Ally’s brush from the vanity and ran it through my frizzy hair and resecured the knot at the top of my head to contain the mass of brown curls. I spotted her toothpaste and put some on my finger, running it over my teeth, and finally, I straightened my rumpled toga, tightening it over my C-cup breasts and around my curvy behind. The tattoo on my hip wasn’t visible, much to my satisfaction, and with a final smoothing of my eyebrows and a plumping of my cheeks with my fingers, I left the safety of the bathroom.

  I gently clicked the door open and tiptoed towards the exit. I was almost at the door when Rome shouted flatly, “Mol?”

  I froze on the spot. “Yeah?”

  “You wanna hang here for a while… with me?” His voice sounded strained, as though he fought his better judgment by asking me. That made two of us. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself with him… at all.

  “Mol?”

  “Yeah… okay.”

  When I stepped out onto the open terrace, I located Rome sitting on a white chair around a patio table, staring through the rails, looking down onto the back lawn of the sorority house with a bored expression on his face.

  I pulled out a chair opposite and slinked down, trying to see what had him so enthralled. Rome didn’t acknowledge my presence until he slid a bottle of Bud in my direction and sipped on his own, slouched low in the chair, his thoughts occupied.

  I surveyed the balcony behind me, taking in its beautiful decoration of potted bright plants, and when I turned back towards Rome, I was met with the undivided attention of his intense dark-brown gaze, and he hooked a small smile on his full lips for the first time since I agreed to keep him company.

  I took a sip of my drink just to do something with my hands. He remained quiet and leaned his head on his hand that was perched on the arm of the chair.

  “How long have you worn glasses?” he asked, clearly just to start a conversation.

  “Since I was about three, I think. Around then, anyway. My eyesight has always been shite,” I answered, and he turned, staring blankly once more at the crowd below.

  A bottle smashed on the lower floor and he peeked through railings to check it out. “It’s getting loud down there,” he mumbled mundanely.

  “Yeah. Well, you should try walking down the corridors. It sounds like a brothel. I didn’t realise college life could be quite so… active.”

  He chuckled quietly and held his bottle up in a mock toast. “Welcome to Greek life.”

  I smiled and held up my bottle too, then downed half of it in one drawn-out swig to enable me to survive the guerrilla attack of nerves that were accosting my body.

  I placed the bottle on the table as Romeo raised an eyebrow.

  “I like beer,” I explained weakly.

  “I can tell,” he answered with that same amused smirk.

  I blushed and laid my chin on my cupped hand. “So why are you up here hiding out?”

  Rome hunched his broad shoulders. “Don’t feel it tonight.”

  I mock-gasped. “Mr. All-star Quarterback doesn’t want to mix with his adoring fans?”

  His demeanour changed from amused to pissed off in an instant, and he proceeded to rip the label from his Bud bottle in frustration. “Well, that didn’t take long. Who told you who I am?”

  “Lexi and Cass.”

  “Who?”

  “My roommates, they told me after we… erm, after we… you know…”

  “Kissed?” he said bluntly, without embarrassment.

  I fixed my eyes to the red-tiled floor. “Erm… yeah.”

  “So what did they say ‘bout me?”

  “That you were the Romeo Prince, quarterback extraordinaire for the Crimson Wave and that you were the Prince William of college football, yada, yada, yada…”

  He stopped in his label destruction and put the back of his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.

  I pursed my lips in annoyance. “What?”

  “The Tide.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s the Crimson Tide. Not Wave.”

  I shrugged and waved his correction away dismissively. “Whatever. Tomayto tomarto.”

  “Well, we’d better keep that between us. It’s not tomayto tomarto ‘round here. It’s… everythin’. It’s life and death.” He sighed and went back to picking the label.

  I took a few more sips and announced, “So, Romeo, eh?”

  Cocoa eyes frosted ice cold. “It’s Rome.”

  I shook my head, my eyebrows dancing. “Ah-ah! It’s Romeo. I’ve been reliably informed.”

  He scowled at me, his face rigid. “No one calls me that, Mol.”

  “Just like no one calls me ‘Mol,’” I retorted, and my eyes widened at my uncharacteristic boldness.

  It earned me a surprised glare. “Touché, Molly…?” He trailed off, waiting for me to say my last name with an expectant smirk.

  “Molly Shakespeare.”

  Rome drifted closer, mouth tight. “What?”

  “Shakespeare. Molly Shakespeare.”

  The annoyance was evident in his intimidating expression. “Are you tryin’ to be funny?”

  “Nope. Romeo, I’m a Shakespeare—born and bred.”

  He stilled for a moment before he rolled his head back and held his stomach while he boomed out a laugh. His red shirt lifted slightly, showing a line of his tanned, hard stomach.

  “That’s not the only weird thing about our names,” I announced nervously.

  “Really? ‘Cause things have been all kinds a’weird since meeting you today. I’m not sure I understand what it all means yet.” He furrowed his brow and shook his head.

  “Well, get a one-way ticket to freaky-ville, my friend, because my middle name, Romeo, is Juliet,” I rushed out, tapping my fingers on the glass-topped table.

  Rome’s drink froze mid-air and his tongue caught between his teeth. “Are you serious?”

  “Yep, my dad thought it would be a fitting tribute to our family surname.”

  He tipped his head to the side, regarding me with a curious expression. “Very fittin’.”

  “Yeah, but at the same time kind of embarrassing.”

  “Well, Shakespeare, you gonna treat me differently now too? Now that you know I’m Romeo ‘Bullet’ Prince?”

  “Bullet?” My nose scrunched in confusion.

  Scratching his hand across his forehead, he said, “Yeah. Football nickname. ‘Cause of my arm.”

  I regarded him blankly.

  “My throwing arm…”

  My expression didn’t change.

  Rome pointed at himself. “Quarterback… Quarterbacks throw the ball… in football… to the other players… They control the game.”

  “If you say so,” I said with a smile and a shrug.

  “Shit, you really know nothin’ about football, do you?” He genuinely was flabbergasted. I could see that in his expression.

  “Nope. And no offence, I don’t want to either. It do
esn’t interest me. Sports and I don’t mix.”

  With a scrape on the red-tiled floor, Rome shifted his chair around the table to be closer to mine and leaned on his hand to face me. “I like that you know nothin’ about football. It’ll be a change, talkin’ to someone about somethin’ other than the new blitz defence or spread formation.”

  “Eh…?”

  “I love that you have no clue what I’m talkin’ about,” he mused.

  “Happy to be of service.”

  As Rome reached for the case of beers, seeming more relaxed, he slammed the top of mine against the edge of the table and handed it to me, doing the same to his own before laying his legs in my direction, his bare foot touching mine.

  From that brush of contact alone, I felt as though he’d stolen all of my breath.

  “So, Shakespeare, what’s your deal? I take it you’re a brainiac if you’re already on your master’s and been Professor Ross’s research assistant for the last couple of years. In fact, you must be fuckin’ unreal for her to bring you all the way to Bama with her?”

  I shuffled in discomfort and stared at the table top. “Err, yeah. Something along those lines.”

  “You don’t like to talk about how great you are in school, do you?” he inquired, intrigued.

  “Not really. It gets embarrassing, talking about being good at something. Anyone who enjoys that kind of attention, I think, is weird.”

  “Then that’s somethin’ we have in common.” He sounded happily… surprised.

  I laid my hand over his and whispered, “Well, that and our Elizabethan epic playwright names.”

  Heat zipped up my arm again, and seeing my reaction, he pulled a knowing smile. “That too.”

  “Rome? Rome? Has anyone seen Rome? Where’d he go?”

  Shelly.

  Rome groaned and put his head in his hands. I polished off the last of my beer and slid the chair back, my anxiety suddenly flaring up.

  I needed to leave.

  Rome quickly lifted his head, his face distressed. “You goin’ somewhere?”

  I leaned over the balcony, spotting Lexi, Cass, and Ally chatting and laughing on the grass. I should be with them and not with Rome. Shelly was stumbling around the lawn, I assumed searching for Rome. She was a mess.

  I pointed down to the backyard. “Are you not going to go to her? She’s pretty wasted by the looks of things.”

  “Am I fuck! She can just want. She’ll sleep it off with some other guy.”

  Kicking my chair back to where I stood, he ordered, “Sit your ass back down, Shakespeare, and have another beer with your most famously tragic character. You’re not leavin’ me yet.”

  Rome’s eyes demanded that I obey, and I rolled mine playfully in return, grabbing another Bud and sitting on the seat. “If I don’t stop drinking soon, I’ll be the one tottering around the lawn. You want me shouting for you, too?”

  Rome licked his bottom lip, and I involuntarily mimicked his action. “It’s soundin’ more temptin’ by the second.” I didn’t know what to say in response.

  Seeing my unease, he changed the subject, clearly tickled. “So, you’ve joined a sorority?”

  “Yeah, and Ally wants me to move into the main house, with Lexi and Cass, of course. It’s not exactly my thing, but I’m trying my best to embrace college life.”

  He smiled. “You and Ally been speaking?”

  “Yeah. After you left… the room… earlier… after the… erm…”

  “Kiss.” He offered once more, but this time with slightly hooded eyes and a husky timbre as his attentions refocused on my mouth.

  “Err, yeah. Well, Shelly screamed at me to leave and Ally fought in my corner and basically told Shelly to bugger off.”

  He ran his fingers through his dirty-blond hair, laughing quietly. “She’s not exactly Shel’s biggest fan. Al’s cool. She’ll be a good friend for you to have ‘round here. She’s my cousin and best friend. Hence, I got the spare key for this room when it gets too crazy out there.” He used his thumb to point over his shoulder to the horde of students.

  “She seems nice.”

  “She’s the best.” Leaning back, he put his hands behind his head. “So, Shakespeare, where you from in England? Don’t you dare say Stratford-upon-Avon or I’m checkin’ myself into an insane asylum.”

  “Nope, nowhere near. I’m from Durham,” I answered with a giggle.

  He stuck out his bottom lip in concentration. “Nope, never heard of it.”

  “Have you seen Billy Elliot?” I asked, trying to frame a reference.

  “The film about the dancin’ kid?”

  I grinned. “Yep. Well, I’m from the exact estate that he’s from in the movie.”

  “Really?” I could see him picturing the estate in his head. The rows and rows of small terraced street houses, the grey, and the relative poverty compared to this crazy lifestyle.

  Rome’s dark eyes dropped to the table. I put my hand on top of his and he flinched at the unexpected contact. “It’s okay. I know I’m poor. You don’t need to feel bad for thinking it.”

  “I wasn’t—” he stuttered and timidly flipped his hand so our palms met, staring at the action curiously.

  I fought to quell my nerves. “Yes, you were thinking that. It’s okay. I know where I’m from is not exactly glamorous, but I’m proud anyway. It’s where I grew up and I love it regardless of its reputation, although I haven’t been back there in years.”

  “Is your family still there?”

  Family. I felt the recurring sharp pain sear through my heart at the word and coughed to hide my panic. I silently begged a higher power to just let me bury it deep again before I lost control in front of Rome. His hand touched my back and the anxiety began to retreat, the threat recoiling at the strength of the supportive touch.

  “You okay? You’ve gone all white,” Rome asked, leaning forwards and rubbing my back with added pressure.

  I clasped my hands together to stop the last of my shaking and lifted my gaze to stare at his handsome face. “Yeah, thanks,” I answered, somewhat at a loss as to why the panic had ebbed at his gesture.

  Eying me in concern and tilting his chin, he urged me to answer his question.

  I took a fortifying breath. “No, I don’t have any family.”

  The look on his face was priceless. If it weren’t so damn tragic, it would’ve been funny.

  “Shit, you’re an orphan?”

  “No, but I have no family left. I’m not sure an adult can still be classed as an orphan.”

  “Your momma?”

  “Died giving birth to me.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Died when I was six.”

  “No grandparents, aunts, or uncles?”

  “One, a grandma.”

  “And?”

  “Died when I was fourteen.”

  “But then, where…?”

  “Foster care.”

  “And that’s it? You’ve been on your own for… You’re twenty, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “On your own for six years?”

  “Well, I went to university so had some friends there, and Professor Ross took me on as a research assistant in my first year and watched out for me when she realised I had no other family. But yeah, I’ve been on my own for a long time. It’s been… difficult.”

  He’d unintentionally moved towards me, like I was gravity drawing him to ground. It was kind of sweet. It felt nice that he cared and strangely soothing to let someone in after years of silence. Not just anyone, it felt good to let… him in. The college bad boy. I congratulated myself. Only I would let in the guy who breaks hearts for fun.

  I ran my hand up to his forearm. “Not to be rude, but this conversation is kind of bringing me down, Rome. Death and Budweiser should never go together.”

  He nodded, and the strained silence filled the air once more. He’d left his hand on my back, though, and I subtly moved against it to increase the pressure.

  “So, you
and Shelly?”

  “Good subject change.”

  “Well, there had to be a reason she was so pissed at our kiss. Even if it was just for the initiation.”

  “We’re… complicated,” he answered hesitantly.

  “That sounds like a copout if ever I’ve heard one.”

  “Nah, not a copout. She’s been houndin’ me since sixth grade. Our families are pushin’ for an engagement. You know, to protect their investments, keep the company’s money in the family. Our fathers are business partners. I don’t even fuckin’ like her; she’s a big old thorn in my side.”

  “But? Are you going to go through with it? The engagement, I mean. I’m surprised you’d settle down with someone you don’t want. Or even settle down at all, if the rumours are to be believed.”

  Rome blew out a long, steady sigh. “Fuckin’ rumours. Look, girls just throw themselves at me. When it’s offered, I take it. Why the hell not? I don’t have a girlfriend, never have. Sex helps me calm down from being so riled up all the time and shows folks that I’m definitely not with Shelly. I won’t apologise for it. I just like to fuck a lot and never the same girl twice.”

  I’m sure my mouth gaped wide open at his crassness. But apparently, he was ignorant to my appalled reaction.

  “My parents have a set plan. I’m expected to graduate, marry Shelly, take over the family business, and live the American fuckin’ dream.”

  “So you don’t want to play football professionally? I thought I heard that you were destined for big things?”

  His face brightened. “Yeah, I do wanna play. I love it. It’s as natural to me as breathing—the rush, the camaraderie, the roar of the crowd on game day, popping the perfect shot for a touchdown. My parents don’t support it. They just… Hell, it don’t matter. I just fuckin’ hate my life being dictated by my folks, that’s all.”

  “Then do what you want. Screw everyone else.”

  Rome’s head flicked up, a dejected smile tugging at his lips. “Easier said than done.”

  “You can’t live your life for other people, Rome. You have to do things that you want, achieve your dreams, in any way you want to do it. If you’re happy, then your parents surely will be too, and if not, they’ll get over it in time. Don’t be with someone you dislike like Shelly. Be with a girl you can’t resist, who you truly want above anyone else. Someone you connect with.”