Sweet Home

by Tillie Cole

  “The W?”

  “The win,” he replied on an exasperated sigh.

  “Right. Gotcha,” I mumbled, deciding it was best to shut up.

  The medic turned off the TV to remove the distraction, finished his examination, and helped me use white sports tape to put my glasses back together, the crude repair job fully visible on the bridge of my nose. Not the best of fashion statements, but it would have to do. Like my Grandma would say, “Ca sera sera.”

  I returned to my seat, only to hear the final whistle blow and the crowd erupt into screams of ecstasy. Cass and Ally were jumping up and down and on seeing me, both rushed in my direction, practically tackling me to the floor. I held on tight. I would not hit the deck twice.

  “Molly! Are you okay? We watched it on the big screen,” Ally asked, her dark eyes widening as she stared at my face. “Darlin’, your glasses!” She leaned back and frantically searched me for any visible marks.

  “Yeah, Molls, I can’t believe you took an elbow to the face—Molly Shakespeare, the newest member of fight club. It was friggin’ hilarious.” Cass laughed, holding her stomach as if it were hurting. She suddenly lost her smile. “Where’s my chips and root beer?”

  “I didn’t quite get around to it, Cass!” She pouted and crossed her arms in disappointment.

  “Did we win?”

  Ally wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Win? We completely smashed ‘em, darlin’. After Rome kissed you, he went back on the field a different person and hit every pass, every play. He was friggin’ MVP.”

  My eyes bugged. “Well, that’s good, right? Most valuable player?”

  “Good? Honey, people were saying it was your kiss that gave him some much needed good luck.”

  I stepped back and viewed her sceptically. “Why would that be lucky?”

  “It turned his game right ‘round, a full one-eighty.” She smiled and clapped excitedly.

  Cass put her hands on my waist and turned me to face the Jumbotron. “You see?”

  Bloody hell.

  The guys that control the screen had worked hard in my absence. The collage playing on repeat began with Rome missing a series of plays. It then cut to me being piled upon by two drunken idiots, being smacked in the face with an elbow, and falling to the floor—it looked worse than it’d felt. Next, Rome was running off the field, ignoring the coach, leaving his teammates gaping after his retreating form, then capturing my face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss. The final segment showed his three winning touchdown shots that I’d missed while in the medical room.

  It was too much. My heartbeat took off at a feverish rate and my chest tightened. I hated being the centre of attention, and being broadcast to thousands of people was more than I could handle. Add Romeo’s kiss into the mix and I was an anxious-ridden mess. I was a firm believer that not everyone should be in the spotlight; I put myself first in that queue.

  I turned slowly to face the field where Rome was doing interviews and, surprise, surprise, Shelly jumped in the shot next to him, kissing him on the cheek, acting the proud girlfriend.

  I felt my heart plummet as I stared at Shelly and Rome together, and one thing became glaringly obvious—I was way out of my league.

  I’d been so friggin’ stupid in coming here, in thinking anything could happen with someone like Rome. He was the most popular guy on campus, lusted after by a stampede of aggressively determined girls, and I was a bookworm, a painfully private introvert.

  Romeo Prince should be with someone like Shelly. Someone who fit seamlessly into his high-pressured, glamorous life.

  I turned to Ally and Cass, trying to hide my emotions. “I’m off home. I have to get back to study. I’ll catch you guys later.”

  I walked out of the stadium before they could put up a protest and tried, over and over, to forget the feel of Romeo’s beautifully soft lips against mine.

  To quote Romeo himself. “Easier said than done.”

  7

  “Molls, get your juicy English ass out! We’re gettin’ trashed and need the fourth musketeer!”

  “Seriously, Cass, for the last time, I’m gonna pass, but thanks anyway.” A loud rustling blasted through the speaker and I had to hold my phone away from my ear. Cass was clearly already intoxicated—friggin’ moonshine.

  “Molly? Molly!” Ally had taken charge of the phone.

  “I’m here, Ally.”

  “You sure you won’t come, darlin’? I don’t like that you’re alone in your room and everyone’s here having a good time.”

  “Seriously, Ally, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

  There was a long pause, allowing me to hear the Zac Brown Band and loud chattering booming in the background. “Fine, darlin’. I’ll catch you in the morning, but if you change your mind, call me.”

  “Okay, hun. Have fun!”

  I pressed end and slumped to my bed, rubbing my thumb across the screen, staring at the wallpaper of a pink lotus flower in a tranquil pond.

  Once I’d arrived home, I’d showered and changed into my old faded pink nightdress, declining any invitations to hit up one of the parties celebrating the big football win.

  Cass, Lexi, and Ally had decided to attend Rome’s fraternity’s party across the street and had tried everything in their arsenal to get me to join them. I needed to distance myself from all things Romeo Prince, so I made my excuses not to go.

  I was smart enough to know I was falling for him, big time, and the battalion of butterflies in my stomach, the jitters of my heart, and the countless erotic dreams that were haunting my sleep confirmed that emphatically for me.

  The time I’d spent with Romeo on our own over the past week had cranked my feelings up a notch and I just didn’t know how to deal with what we were to each other. So my plan—though admittedly not exactly CIA worthy—was to just avoid being in such close proximity to the Tide’s superstar QB.

  That plan began effective immediately.

  Shifting around my bed, I let loose my long hair, feeling the ends skirt across my lower spine, set to massaging my scalp from the strain of holding the mass of curls all day, and settled myself under the soft lilac covers with a good book. I picked up my dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre and happily settled into the world of old England, Mr. Rochester, and lost myself in its pages.

  About an hour later, I was completely engrossed and slouched in relaxation when I heard a tapping noise. I darted my eyes around my empty room, the only light coming from the soft red glow of the lamp beside my bed. I began to feel nervous; I was the only sister in the entire house.

  When I heard it again, I jumped up, standing in the middle of the room—it was coming from the doors of my balcony.

  I cautiously crept forward and twisted the lock, checking that no strange men were waiting on the other side. When I slid the door open, there were pebbles scattered around the red-tiled floor. I stepped forward, letting the gentle evening breeze wrap around me, and bent to pick up a stone. Just as I was standing up, more landed on my shoulder.

  I took a deep breath and walked to the rails and risked a peek over. At first all I saw was darkness. Then from it stepped a figure.

  “Shakespeare?”

  There was no mistaking that sexy southern drawl.

  Romeo moved from the shadows into the glimmer of the light coming from the porch. His large frame silhouetted in the dusky glow and he looked absolutely gorgeous. He was back to normal—low faded blue jeans and a sleeveless Tide T-shirt in red—and I tried to stop the excitement racking through my body.

  “Hey, Mol,” he whispered with a coy smile.

  “Hey, you,” I answered quietly. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you.”

  “You did? Why?” I was genuinely shocked. I assumed he would be out celebrating the win.

  Rome hunched his broad shoulders and tucked his hands in his pockets, casting a shy glance in my direction. “Because I noticed you weren’t out.” He stepped farther forward, making it easier fo
r me to see him. “And I wanted to check you were okay after today. I’ve been thinkin’ about you all night.”

  “Shouldn’t you be with Shelly?”

  “Why the fuck would I be with her?”

  I shrugged. “She was with you after the game, the two of you looked cosy. I thought you might have wanted to celebrate with her tonight.”

  His whole body stiffened. “Let’s get this straight right now. She’s not fuckin’ anythin’ to me. Never will be.” His head cocked to the side as he stared up at me. “Is that why you bailed on the party? ‘Cause you thought I’d be with that connivin’ bitch?”

  I grimaced at this whole conversation. “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.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  My heart beat rapidly as I stared at him directly below my room—below my room, assuring me nothing was happening with Shelly. I relaxed and realised just how much I’d been strung out over the thought of him with someone else.

  I peered over the railing and couldn’t control the slip of a chuckle that escaped my throat.

  Chocolate eyes narrowed, menacingly. “What you findin’ so funny, Shakespeare?”

  “That Romeo has come to my balcony to strive for my attention.” I muffled my mouth with my hand before clasping them together and resting them against my shoulder. “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.” I batted my eyelashes for extra effect.

  An arch pulled at his top lip as he unsuccessfully fought a smirk. “How the hell d’you know that from memory?”

  “I’ve read it about a hundred times. It’s beautifully tragic.” I snorted a laugh. “Kind of like us, don’t you think?”

  Romeo disappeared from my view and I detected the sound of rustling. I ran to the farthest corner of my balcony to see what he was doing, and there he was, scaling the wooden trellis that ran up the wall.

  “Romeo, be careful! What the hell are you doing?”

  Reaching for the next piece of fragile wood, he looked up with a playful glint in his eye. “Coming to see my Juliet.”

  I stumbled backwards. He was coming up to see me… in my room… alone.

  Fuck.

  Two hands gripped my stone balcony rail and Rome pulled himself over the top, righting himself on his feet and dusting his hands on his fitted jeans. When he glanced up at me, his breath stilled and his hands froze on his thighs, taking in the sight of me in my nightdress.

  Casting a glimpse down, I inwardly cringed at my state of exposure. I lifted my head to explain that I was already in bed when he turned up, but he was already before me, a hairsbreadth away. Big dark eyes drank in every curve of my body, his long pink tongue licking full lips, and I watched as his wandering eyes made their way from my hips to my breasts.

  Rome lifted a hand and ran it through my long, wavy hair. “I like your hair down,” he said in a rough voice, as though it pained him to speak.

  I automatically went to fiddle with my locks, but instead, my palm landed on top of his. I went to pull it back when his fingers captured mine and he lowered them to our sides. As I looked down, his thumb stroked across my palm, causing shivers to race up my arms. Rome gently moved my hair from my shoulder, his index finger running up and down the exposed skin in a hypnotising motion.

  My eyes closed and my nipples hardened, brushing almost painfully against the light cotton fabric. “Romeo? W-what are you doing?”

  Minty breath tickled the skin on my face. “I ain’t sure. But I don’t wanna stop.”

  “Rome, I don’t think—” I snapped open my eyes at the sudden piercing sound of sorority sisters drunkenly returning to the house, interrupting our moment. If they tried hard enough, they would be able to see us up here touching, caressing, getting closer by the second.

  Rome nuzzled into my neck; my back arched by instinct, surrendering to his forward ministrations.

  “We… we need to stop.”

  Groaning, Rome licked at my sun-kissed skin. “No, Mol. I’ve held off for long enough. I’ve tried to take things slow, but no more. I won’t be a nothin’ to you anymore. I want you. I want you, so fuckin’ bad…”

  “Rome. This isn’t a good idea. I can’t do this.”

  “Sure you can,” he said with a humoured edge to his voice, his hands drifting low on my waist.

  I pushed on his hard chest. “Please… just… hold on a moment.”

  Romeo stepped back and blinked in surprise.

  “What?” I asked in reaction to his sudden stillness.

  “No one’s ever told me no before.” He was completely at a loss.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly.”

  “That’s… pathetic.”

  He skirted forward with a grin, his fingertips ghosting down my arm and settled upon my hip, gripping the flimsy material. “But true.” He visibly swallowed, a flash of nervousness sneaking through. “You don’t want this? You don’t want… me?”

  “Romeo… I—”

  “What?” he asked impatiently.

  I dragged my hands down my face. “You’re a lot to take on, you know.”

  “I know.” He exhaled a long breath with a cocky, crooked smile.

  “I don’t know what you want from me. You tie me up in knots and I’m not used to it.”

  Edging in closer, he wrapped his arms around my waist, stating, “Then let me show you what I want. Stop fuckin’ fightin’ this.”

  I tried to break from his hold. “No, Rome, this is just… just…”

  “I wanna be with you,” he pushed, his big brown eyes almost pleading. “C’mon, Mol. I need you. Tell me you get me. Tell me you’re as fuckin’ into me as I am you.”

  I closed my eyes and felt his hands move to my lower back, my insides quivering in response. It felt too good. There was no contest, no prolonged internal debate. I was going to give in.

  “Come inside,” I said huskily, my voice laced with longing.

  Romeo pressed his forehead against mine and sighed in sheer relief. “Fuck. Yeah.”

  Taking his hand, I led him from the balcony and slid the door quietly to a close. As I turned the lock, I felt warmth at my back, and Rome wrapped his arms back around my waist, his hands massaging my stomach through the thin material as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss just below my earlobe. Gentle fingers moved to my hips and jerked me back towards his groin, which hardened in response to my contact.

  I twirled in his arms and in the instant I faced him, his lips found their home against mine. At first his movements were soft, skimming across my mouth, tracing their delicate shape with his own. My hands skirted upwards and into his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue probed against my lips and he pushed forwards, stroking it against mine in sweet, twisting caresses.

  I was lost to him.

  I knew in that moment that things had categorically changed for me, that there was no going back to my pre-Romeo state. My body wanted what he offered and my heart wouldn’t allow me to resist.

  Rome twisted me in his arms and, without breaking our kiss, pushed me backwards until my legs hit the bed and we glided down, his hard body landing flush against mine. Loud moans of approval urged me further, and I met his enthusiasm with everything I had.

  My hands moved from his hair to the hem of his shirt, slipping under, and my fingers traced circles on his back as he groaned into my mouth, the growl vibrating against our duelling tongues. His hand smoothed down my waist and kept heading south. Long, experienced fingers stroked my thigh ever so slightly, and his mouth tore from mine.

  Romeo’s gaze dropped down and I felt his hand travel north, passing the bottom of my nightdress. I immediately stopped his hand and he froze, his eyes shooting back to mine.

  “I-I can’t. It’s going too fast,” I whispered and looked away in embarrassment.

  He sighed, h
is hand moved from underneath my nightdress, and he took my chin between his finger and thumb. “Don’t do that,” he stated firmly.

  “Do what?”

  “Feel bad for stoppin’. Never feel bad for that. When I have you, it’ll be when I have you writhin’ in need, beggin’ me to fuck you. Never feel bad for stoppin’. When you give yourself to me, you’ll be so wet that you can’t fuckin’ stand it.”

  “When I give myself to you?” I asked, slightly pissed off at his assumption that I’d be unable to resist his charms but at the same time so friggin’ turned on.

  “When you give yourself to me,” he replied knowingly.

  My mouth dropped. “You’re confident. I might refuse you.”

  He shrugged dismissively and traced around my knee with his index finger. “We’re gonna happen. We both know it’s true, and I’m countin’ the days until I get inside you and make you come… over and over again.” He rolled his lips, moisture causing them to shine. “Fuckin’ countin’ the minutes…”

  I struggled to think and I urged him back towards my hot mouth, desire trumping logic.

  With a frustrated grunt he pushed me off onto the mattress, reproach in his stand-off posture. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. You’re not ready.”

  “You didn’t. It’s just… It’s just that… I’m… not very experienced… and I…”

  His eyes widened and he reared back. “Shit, are you a virgin?”

  I pulled down the hem of my dress and kneeled up. His shocked eyes never left mine as I tucked my hair behind my ear. “No, not a virgin, but I’m not exactly skilled in all things… seductive. I’ve only ever slept with one person and only one time, this past year,” I rushed out in one breath.

  A glimpse of possessiveness flickered across his face and his muscles bunched. “When did this happen?”

  “When I was at Oxford. Oliver and I—”

  “Oliver?” he snapped coldly.

  “Yeah, Oliver Bartholomew.”

  He lost his anger and fought a smirk. I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

  “Oliver Bartholomew? Very… British.”

  “He is British! As am I! Quit making fun!”