by Tillie Cole
He snorted. “It’s Python.” As simple as that. “So let’s go. I surprised you once with my philosophy knowledge. I’m pretty sure I can do it again.”
I waved dismissively. “Whatever, you’re twenty-one. I’m still only twenty and I’m already on my master’s. I doubt there’s anything you can show me, superstar. It’s my area of expertise.”
In a flash, Rome had jostled me into his chest and caught my earlobe between his teeth. “Maybe not in philosophy, but I can sure as hell show you other things, Mol—in my area of expertise.”
“And what’s that?” I asked breathlessly.
He pressed lingering lips on the furiously beating pulse on my throat. “Much more… pleasurable things than work.”
I froze and he moved before me, jerking me back into stride. “Come on, megabrain, let’s go research and get your dirty mind outta the gutter.”
* * *
Romeo stayed with me at the library for hours, helping me type up notes and research counterarguments for the paper. To give him his dues, he was extremely knowledgeable on the subject. He seemed different when we parted, somehow lighter, and I was too. His company settled me and although he could be abrupt and occasionally a bit scary, I found I liked it. But unfortunately, that meant I was right back to thinking about him constantly.
I had to go to the library again the day after, and I headed straight to the office door and turned the lock, only to find Romeo with his legs propped up on the desk, arms behind his head, with a smirk on his face. “It’s about time, Shakespeare. I’ve already written a goddamned thesis waitin’ on you.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked with a radiant smile, happy that his lip looked less swollen and his knuckles were bandaged over.
Swinging his legs off the desk, he stood before me. “I’m here to assist the assistant. Put me to work. I’m eager to please.”
I placed my books on the table and put my hands on my hips. “You want to tell me how you got in here, in a locked room?”
Rome shrugged playfully. “I have a secret admirer in the librarian. She opened it for me after a little sweet talk.”
“Ms. Rose? She’s, like, ninety!”
“Cougar on the prowl, more like,” he quipped with a mock shiver.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Mm-hmm! And why, Romeo, do you want to help me write notes again?”
He lost his playful smile, the same flash of vulnerability that I saw spread across his face yesterday dulled his beautiful features, and he crossed his arms defensively. “You don’t want me here? I’ll go if I’m gettin’ in your way. I don’t wanna be where I’m not wanted.”
I moved before him and took his scowling face in my hands. “Hey, I didn’t say that. I’m just taken aback by the fact that you want to be here with me. It’s… nice to be with you, in any capacity.”
He tilted his head and pressed a kiss to my palm. “I like being around you too, Mol. I feel good when I am. Plus, I owe you for what you did for me yesterday.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
His finger stroked down my cheek and I almost dropped to the floor. “I’m stayin’ with you.”
“What about your classes?”
“I’m stayin’ with you. I’m kinda becomin’ addicted.”
I swallowed. “Addicted?”
“That’s right. To you and how you make me feel.”
I blushed and fiddled with the strap on my bag. “Right, well… err… let’s get you to work, then.”
He saluted and sat opposite me with a huge, self-congratulatory grin.
* * *
A drawn-out, dramatic sigh came from behind me, causing me to jump.
“We need a break,” Romeo ordered as he came through the door, holding two large coffees, a disapproving look on his face.
As I hadn’t even noticed him leave, I would have to agree that a break was probably in order. I slouched back in my chair and rubbed my tired eyes. “How long have we been in here?”
Dropping down on his chair, he pushed my coffee and a brown bag holding a cream cheese bagel across the desk. “About six hours.”
My eyes widened. “Oh. Crap.”
“Yep, crap.”
I took a sip from my coffee, closed my eyes, and groaned loudly in pleasure as the familiar kick of energising caffeine flowed like opium through my veins. A chair scraped on the vinyl floor and I heard Romeo jump up, cursing. I opened my eyes to see him shaking coffee from his wet grey T-shirt.
“You okay?”
He nodded curtly. “Just… don’t make those kinda noises around me, Mol.”
I squirmed as I noted his smouldering expression as he watched my chest rise and fall in reaction to his words. He sat back down and we ate in strained, crackling silence.
Romeo stretched. “You must be nearly done now. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard at anythin’. I have no doubts you’ll make one hell of a professor.”
I shrugged. “I love studying. It keeps me occupied.”
Titling his head in question, he asked, “From what?”
“From thinking about other things.”
“Like?”
I repeatedly clicked the top of my pen. “Bad things… upsetting things… things from my past.”
His hand encased mine. “So studyin’ does for you what you do for me?”
I gulped, not knowing how to respond to such a statement.
“It’s true. You’re doin’ somethin’ to me, Mol.”
“I… What? You…?” I refocused on the table and listened as he chuckled at my fluster. I then ripped off some of my bagel and threw it at his chest. He picked it off his shirt and popped it in his mouth, waggling his brows. I couldn’t contain my giggle.
“So how are you feeling today?” I asked when the heavy atmosphere dissipated.
“Better. This pretty gal helped me get through some personal shit.”
“What gal? What does she look like?” I teased.
He pretended to think. “Brunette, hot accent, fuckin’ sexy as hell librarian with glasses thing going on.”
My stomach flipped. “Right. But seriously, are you okay?”
Dropping his smile, he said quietly, “Gettin’ there. One day at a time.”
I left him to his thoughts and sipped at my cappuccino, reading back over my notes. I quickly became distracted as Rome lifted slowly off his chair and walked towards me, eyelids hooded and lips slightly parted. I gripped the arms of my chair when he placed a hand on the bookcase behind me and the other on the desk, trapping me and slowly leaned in. I closed my eyes as his mouth stopped before mine.
“Romeo, what—”
His tongue darted out and he slowly licked the corner of my lip.
I stilled.
“You had foam on your lip.” His voice was husky and strained.
I deflated. “Oh, I—”
Diving back in, he locked my head in his hands and crashed his lips against mine. I surrendered and groaned when he fisted my hair, tipping me back to get even deeper, thoroughly massaging my mouth.
After several seconds, he eventually he withdrew.
“And then?” I murmured, staring into his wild eyes and rubbing the moisture from my lips.
Pressing his forehead to mine, he hushed out, “Well, then, I just wanted to kiss you.”
He dropped to his knees so we were eye level and his hands traced circles on my thighs. “Come to my game this weekend.”
“I have to study,” I answered automatically.
His look of disappointment cut me. “It’s just for a few hours, Mol.”
“I know, but I get paid to assist the professor and I pride myself on getting everything done on time. I need my pay check to survive, Rome. Living in the sorority house is expensive. I’ll be here on Saturday when the game is on.”
Signing loudly, he dropped his shoulders. “Okay, I don’t fuckin’ like it, but I understand.”
I cupped his rough, tanned cheek. “Please don’t be disappointe
d. Sports are just not my thing. I have absolutely no clue about American football, or quarterbacks, remember?”
Leaning into my touch, he said, “I hear you, Mol. No one’s ever there supportin’ me anyhow. Nothin’ new.”
“Romeo—”
He got to his feet, scratching his head. “I have a practice I gotta get to.”
I reached out and brushed my hand through his tense fingers. “I’ll be here a few more hours yet. I’ll catch you later though, yeah?” I felt terrible that I’d let him down. I’d been doing so well since yesterday, making him happier. We’d gone right back to square one.
Rome bent down, searching my eyes, then abruptly turned and left the room, leaving me frozen on my seat.
For the next two hours, I stared at the knots in the oak table and wondered over and over again what the heck was happening between Romeo “Bullet” Prince and me?
As I gathered my things to leave, a note under the door caught my attention.
Please come to the game.
I want you there.
Your Romeo x
My Romeo?
Well… shit.
6
“Ah, c’mon Rome! Get your head in the game!” Ally was on her feet, her hands waving about, along with Cass and every other person in the one hundred thousand-seater stadium—well everyone except me. I literally had no idea what the heck was going on.
I’d decided to go to the game. Ally had a spare ticket and had tried to convince me since the beginning of the season to use it, but I always declined. This time, however, I couldn’t get the hurt look on Romeo’s face out of my mind when I’d told him I wouldn’t come, and so I caved and found myself sat at my very first Tide game.
It was the note.
I’d become the hopeless romantic girl I never thought I would be, and his sweet words had tipped me over the edge.
“Rome! What the hell? Argh!!!” Ally screamed once more.
We were sitting at the lower level student seating area of Bryant-Denny Stadium watching the Tide play Auburn University—the local derby, and biggest rivals—and apparently, Rome wasn’t having a great game, the third of the season where he was off his usual perfect form. I looked to the Jumbotron and saw a close-up shot of him snapping loose his chinstrap and cursing like a sailor, slamming his fist into the ground, and shoving players out of his way, obviously unhappy with whatever just happened.
The whole bad-boy thing he was working on the field was extremely sexy, and coupled with the way his uniform showcased his impressive form—well, it should practically have been illegal.
Ally had her head in her hands, peering through the gaps between her fingers, her face one of desperation. Cass—who had just tucked into her third corn dog—was shaking her head in disappointment.
The cheerleaders began their stunts and I watched as Lexi kicked her legs with glee. She’d made the cheerleading squad with flying colours, flooring the competition with her backhand spring and triple split cartwheel. She was one happy Goth.
I took that moment to take in my surroundings. The stadium that was the home of the Crimson Tide was immense. The atmosphere was electric, and I quickly realised why Rome was so well known around campus and quite frankly, all of Alabama.
The moment he had run out of the tunnel, his face and statistics broadcasted on the giant screen at the end zone. As he and the team took to the field, the hundred thousand-strong crowd chanted, “Roll Tide!” at the top of their lungs to the accompaniment of blaring horns and the thunder of drums. It was beyond anything I’d ever seen before.
Every time Rome threw the ball, the fans held their breath, almost in prayer, and unfortunately up until that point, he hadn’t successfully completed one of his passes. I was told by Cass, in no uncertain terms, that this was a very bad thing.
Back on the pitch, Rome was hauling his angry frame back to the bench where a coach proceeded to shout in his face, smacking his hand against a clipboard to emphasis his point. I had a sudden urge to leap from my seat and push the man away from him.
I faced Ally. “Why is he getting told off? So what? He missed a few throws. Is it really all that bad?”
“Yeah, it’s that bad. Rome can’t afford to miss all these plays, Mol. He’s a senior and regarded as the top quarterback in the country—a sure win for the first draft. All eyes are on him. Plus, if the Tide is gonna make the National Championship again this year, we need him a hundred and ten percent. He’s currently pulling about twenty. I’ve never seen him so off. I just don’t understand it.” She looked baffled.
The crowd began cheering again and when I looked to the field, Rome was running back to the gridiron, fixing his helmet back in place.
As usual, the sun was beaming down in Tuscaloosa and the close-packed, open-roofed stadium was getting far too hot. I had worn a short white linen sleeveless dress and a pair of Ally’s brown mid-calf cowboy boots, which she had kindly given to me as a hallelujah, you’re comin’ to a game’ present. She’d told me bluntly, that I had to fit in and adopt a sassy southern attitude. I’d also honoured this occasion with a covering of light makeup, and I found that I actually loved the country look.
“I’m going to grab a Diet Coke. Either of you want anything?” I asked, shouting over the roars and cheers, batting away a mosquito with my hand, needing a respite from the intense heat in the stadium.
Ally shook her head, too engrossed in watching the game, and Cass reached into her pocket, pulling out a twenty. “A large bag of chips and a root beer, darlin’.”
I took the money and made my way along the side of the field towards the indoor vendors. I’d only made it about ten steps when thousands of heads started to turn in slow motion, following my path. Before I had a chance to even guess why, the ball surged into the crowd and two men began to fight over who would keep it. Their ruckus caused them to careen my way, and I was smacked in the nose by a stray elbow, the impact of which had me hurtling on my arse. To compliment the hit, the crowd expelled a collective “oooh” and security came over and hauled away the two men.
My hands instinctively flew to my nose, which felt a little tender yet intact, and as far as I could tell, there was no blood. My glasses, however, were a different story and came apart in my hands. I clung to them the pieces as people hurried over, asking if I was okay. I heard a man shouting that he was a medic and he bent beside me, his hands skirting over my face.
“I think the impact of the ball just snapped my glasses,” I stated, taking the offered help from the squat and balding medic to help me stand. As I got to my feet, the crowd began clapping and I held my cracked glasses to my face, an arm in each hand, and surveyed the stadium, noticing to my mortification that my little fumble had been televised on the Jumbotron.
“Prince! PRINCE! Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?!” an angry male voice screamed and the small crowd around me began to part.
I peeked my head in the direction of the opening path, only to see Rome running my way. The expression on his face was one of utter horror as I stood holding my snapped glasses to my eyes.
“Shit, Shakespeare! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” he asked, panic in his voice. He dropped his helmet to the floor and both his hands cupped my face, tilting up my head, searching for injuries with his large brown eyes.
“Rome, I’m okay. I was saved by my glasses. They laid their life on the line to save my nose. You don’t need to apologise. It’s the two drunken idiots that landed on my face who are the dicks!” I held up my now two-piece set of black frames—losing my vision for a second before holding them back in place.
When I could see again, I noticed Rome pull a small smile and shake his head. “It had to be you. Out of everyone in this entire fuckin’ stadium, it had to be you who was involved. I’m no longer surprised; you’re always there. I think someone’s tryin’ to tell me somethin’.”
I shrugged. “I was going for a Coke.”
He laughed gently. “During my play?”
�
��Err, well, quite honestly, I didn’t know what the hell was going on, and I was thirsty.”
Women bent over the rails, screaming at Rome.
“We love you, bullet!”
“Take me home with you, honey!”
“Fuck me, seven!”
His smile dropped at my distracted attention. He gripped my chin so I focused solely on him. “You came.”
“I came,” I answered with a smile.
“Why did you change your mind?”
“You got through to me,” I teased, relaying his words from our heated corridor argument.
Rome huffed out a laugh.
“Miss? We need to take you to the medical room to check you over—policy, I’m afraid. If you’d like to come with me.” The medic held my arm and tried to usher me away.
Rome put up his finger to pause him for a second before bending slightly to meet my gaze. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good. Now, don’t you’ve a game to win? I’m sure all these people didn’t come here today to see us chatting.”
“Yeah, I was kinda in the middle of somethin’ before you decided to walk into that drunken fight.”
I went to follow the medic, when Rome suddenly dipped down, laying a lingering kiss on my lips. It was tender and soft, different from our usual frantic, spur of the moment fumbles.
We locked eyes for a second longer before Rome ran back to the field, determination on his face. The crowd openly gawked, wondering why the star quarterback had been so interested in the injured girl.
In the safety of the medical room, I began to regain my composure when an abrupt, rapturous roar seemed to shake the very foundations of the stadium, causing me to jump up from my seat.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in a panic.
The medic looked to the small TV screen in the corner. “Hot damn!”
“What?”
“Bullet just hit a wide receiver for a forty-yard touchdown.”
“That’s a good thing, right, a touchdown?”
He swung his attention back ‘round to me, no doubt wondering if I did have a head injury after all. “Yes, that’s a very good thing, especially with only one quarter to go. We’re tied. We have fifteen minutes to take the W.”
