by Jean Haus
We do another round of Paint it Black by the Stones. I nail it. Romeo doesn’t say anything but Sam offers compliments and Justin a fist pump.
After a few more cover songs, Sam yanks off his bass and sets it against the boxes lining the wall. “I need a smoke.” Disappearing down the stairs that lead out to the street, he yells, “Be back in ten.”
Romeo turns to Justin, running hands through his hair until he clasps the back of his neck and the muscles of his arms bulge. “We’re not going to be ready for U-Palooza.”
“Why? Riley’s doing great.” Justin tosses the sheet of music he’d been reading from on one of the chairs lining the wall across from us. Pop cans, fast food bags, and other papers litter the space underneath. Ugh. Sloppy boys.
Romeo’s chin lowers. “With six songs.”
“So we’ll do a shortened set. Who cares?”
Irritated, I roll my sticks across my thigh while they argue like I’m not here, like I’m not part of the band.
Romeo’s arms drop and his gaze narrows on Justin with a visible irritation. “I care. We’re not some garage band.”
Justin rolls his eyes. “Don’t get your perfectionist panties in a twist. We should be able to get three more done.”
“It’s still not enough.” Romeo turns to me. “Can you read music?”
I nod. Although, drum notation is a bit different, reading music isn’t too hard after five years of piano lessons.
“Take the sheet music home and be ready for next practice.”
“Will you fucking stop?” Justin pulls his phone out. “We’re going to be far more ready than we would have with that ass wipe you wanted.” He turns to me and his expression softens. “Just ignore him and take a quick break, Riley. You’re doing great. Looking good too,” he says with a wink. Enough with the stupid winking. Pressing buttons, he walks to the far side of the dusty room. “Hey Jessica, you busy tonight?”
“What is your problem?” I say lowly when Justin is across the room and hopefully not paying attention to us.
Romeo’s dark eyes pin me to the stool. He stands facing me with his sleek black guitar hanging from his neck. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”
His irritated gaze stabs at my confidence. “Just because I’m a girl?”
A tick bounces under a cheekbone. “Mostly…”
The sticks clenched in my hand smack against the stool seat. “That’s a bunch of bullshit.”
“It’s not what you think,” he says while his gaze continues to stab me while the angle of his hair almost reaches his tightened cheekbone.
My lids lower and my lip curls. “I think you’re a chauvinist pig.”
That tick becomes more pronounced before a smirk curves his sensual lips. “Think whatever you want, but a little more aggravation and I’m sure you’ll break then your little ass will be gone.”
My brows drop low. “Don’t ever refer to my ass again, asshole.”
His smirk widens. “What a dirty little mind you have, Miss M. I’d like to say I’m delighted with the knowledge, but I’m not.”
I knew he was going to be a pain. I told myself to ignore him, but I really, really want to use his skull for a drum at the moment. Instead of jumping up and tapping on his head, I smile sweetly at him. “I can guarantee I won’t quit. Obviously, me in the band pisses you off. And I’m finding that I like to piss you off.”
His perfect face twists into a scowl. I hate to admit it but he even looks hot wearing a scowl. He opens his mouth, but Justin comes over in time before I have to listen to more of Romeo’s crap.
I roll my sticks between my palms and give him the evil eye. Why is it if a person looks like they stepped off the cover of a magazine, they’re usually a certified dickhead?
Chapter 5
I had imagined my first day of college completely different. I envisioned an eclectic group of friends, a new and different location, and a plethora of stimulating classes. None to all of the above. And to top it off, I’m having lunch in a packed cafeteria with a classmate from high school.
“Aren’t you dating that one band guy? What’s his name?” Kendra Dobson asks, shoving her empty salad bowl away.
I blink at her. As soon as she saw me coming down the aisle of Philosophy 101 she was pssting and waving me toward her. Though we spoke less than ten words to each other in high school, a familiar face had her overly friendly on the first day of college. Cliques in our high school were never tight, but neither Kendra nor I were members of more than one. She hung with the popular crowd and was one of the reigning beauty queens. I hung with the band geeks. Yet all through class, she’d been whispering and writing stuff in her notebook for me to read like we were the best of friends. Not wanting to be rude, I pretended interest while trying to take notes on the lecture. She decided we should eat lunch together once she saw my schedule. Since I’d sit by myself because Marcus is in class, I went along with her.
All the way to the cafeteria, in the long line, and through most of lunch I heard about parties with drunk people I barely know, about who hooked up with who over summer, several of her own flings, and now that she’s finally asked something about me, I’m startled.
“Aaron Dregski.” I push away the other half of a club sandwich. “But we’re not dating anymore.”
She looks up from digging in her purse. “Really? You two were the cutest couple.”
I glance at the table of guys next to us, wondering how she can ignore their ogling her. “Um thanks, but he went to college in another state.”
Kendra’s long lashed eyes narrow as she slams her purse on the table. “I hate that shit, people breaking up because they can’t do long distance relationships. Like did he date you last year because it was convenient or something?” My stunned look has her frowning. “Sorry, I…hey didn’t you have a music scholarship to some major university?”
This is the real reason I didn’t want to hang out with Kendra. Her blasé attitude I can handle. Her questions not so much. “I changed my mind and decided to stay home.”
She gives me an odd look. “So you’re in the band here?”
I reach for the other half of my sandwich. Music is better territory than Aaron or the divorce. “Not the marching band. I’m in another band.”
She pauses opening her lip-gloss. “What band?”
“Luminescent Juliet.” I take a huge bite.
Her eyes round. The lip-gloss stays closed. “Get out.”
Nodding, I finish chewing. “For the last two weeks.” And playing has been awesome. More than I thought it would be. However, putting up with Romeo, the rock drill sergeant, has sucked.
“Wow. I wondered about the new look you’ve got going.” I pause lifting my sandwich. My expression must tell her she hit a nerve because she adds, “You look better.” Nerve being hammered. “I mean older, more college looking. Not that you weren’t cute before…” She trails off but my irritation dissipates.
Unfortunately, I’m used to the cute thing. I’ve never been referred to as beautiful or even pretty, always cute. Like I’m a frickin’ kitten or something. But Chloe’s makeover has forced me to pay attention to fashion more. My normal sloppy of loose t-shirts and baggy shorts or jeans tends to look odd with my wild hair and red swirling tattoos. Today, I’m wearing low riding, tight jeans, a black tank, and flip-flop wedges.
She leans across the table. “You know I saw them once. That guitar player, holy-yummy-fuck-fest.”
Sandwich bits almost spray from my mouth at the thought of sex with Romeo. I swallow and push my plate away again. “Ah, fest?”
She nods while glossing her lips then throws back her blonde curls. “Come on, you have to admit he’s beyond hot.”
And a total dickhead, which is best kept to myself. I shrug. “He’s good looking but so is Justin the singer.”
She grins. The curve of her sparkly lips looks devious. “It’s hard to notice anything, even the music, with that guitar player in your face. He like sweats images of hot
sex. What’s his name?”
I kind of get why the sight of Romeo shocked her out of noticing Justin. Justin’s like sunshine. A day at the beach with the wind catching your laughter and sand between your toes. Romeo is darkness. The floating feeling between awake and dreams that holds a mysterious captivation.
“Romeo,” I respond, hoping to end the conversation. Visions of Romeo and hot sex are the last things I need in my head.
“Like as in Shakespeare?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Does he go here?” she asks with excitement lacing her tone.
“I think so.” I reach for my backpack. To be honest I don’t know much about Romeo other than he’s a chauvinistic jerk. And yeah he’s hot.
She grabs her own bag, some huge over the shoulder designer thing. “You have to introduce me.”
Other than practice, like I’d hang out with that tool but I agree to introduce her as we dump our lunch trays. She follows me out the side door even though her next class is the other way.
“Rush week is coming. I want to pledge for Gamma Pi Omega,” she says as soon as we step outside. “You interested?”
In a sorority? No. Especially here. I glance at the sleek lines of the fountain in the middle of the outside commons area. This university was built in the seventies. Every building and piece of construction reeks of modern. No ivy covered architecture here. In fact, the college just gained university status about eight years ago. The fraternities and sororities don’t even have houses. But I wouldn’t have joined a sorority in Virginia either. Over the top social is not my thing.
“I’m too busy with the band,” I say tactfully.
“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Her glossy lips press together in a tight frown. “I just thought it would be cool to pledge with someone I knew.”
“I’m sure you’ll get accepted. Make it. Whatever they call it.”
“As long as my GPA is a two point eight or higher at semester. I may need a little help in Philosophy.”
Really, I should have seen this coming.
Kendra makes sure to get my email before we part ways. Between my Philosophy notes and my connection to Romeo, I’m guessing she’ll be emailing a lot.
Calculus is in another building across the small campus. Since I’m early and expecting the class to be hard, I sit up front at a corner table. The room is much smaller than the auditorium for Philosophy 101. And instead of desks bolted to the floor, this room has tables.
Other students stream in as I pull out a new notebook, a graphing calculator, and my thick Calculus text. Waiting for class to start, I absently drum my pencils—erasers down—on my book. I have a new beat going when someone plops down beside me. Horror, instant and angry, flows through me at the sight of my tablemate.
Oh just…hell no.
“Fancy meeting you here, Riley,” Romeo says, leaning back with an arm around his chair. “I thought you were a freshman.”
This cannot be happening. I look around the room for another seat. The room is almost full. “I am.”
“Then what are you doing in my class?”
“Didn’t know you owned the class,” I snap as someone takes the last seat. I whip open my notebook. Generally, I’m a nice person—Chloe often says too nice—but around Romeo, I become super bitch with a trademark sneer. “I took Calc I and II in high school.”
He lets out a low whistle while yanking a binder from his bag. “Too smart for your own good aren’t you?”
I ignore his stupid smart question. I’m more of a hard worker than anything else. I had to do Calculus II as online course, which blowed. Got a B in that one. “Aren’t you a senior? Shouldn’t you be done with this class?”
“I’m a junior, and this class didn’t fit into my schedule until this semester.”
“Huh?” I kind of assumed Romeo was years older than me.
“I’m twenty-one,” he says, understanding my confusion. “I…ah… missed a semester of high school and graduated late. Not that it’s really any of your business,” he adds in a snide tone.
“Why are you sitting here?” I ask through clenched teeth. Dealing with him at practice is one thing. In class, it’s intolerable.
“I find that I like to annoy you,” he says in a sickening sweet tone before his full lips twist into a mocking grin. Because he is mocking me. With my own words.
My angry retort dies as the balding professor walks through the door. He welcomes everyone, introduces himself as Professor Hill, and hands out a syllabus. Romeo instantly turns serious and attentive as the professor reads the over the semester syllabus.
With his profile turned, I study my band mate. Strangely, I’ve never been this close to him before. All of Kendra’s comments have me assessing him. Long, dark hair lies over his forehead in a swoop while thick shorter hair covers the back of his neck. A winged eyebrow arches over full lashes. And the slanting cut of his jaw and cheekbone are a severe contrast to the angle of his straight nose. Alright, together his features do paint a yummy picture.
But not perfect. That straight nose is a tad too long. A sprinkling of dark scruff covers his jaw. And those ears lined with silver hoops stick out just a little too much. Okay, I could be desperate to find faults. He’s close to perfect. Yet Kendra’s right about one thing. He exudes sex. I’m not sure if it’s the scruff or those full pouty lips or his dark gaze—probably a combination of all three—but I’ve never met anyone so hot. Sweaty images tumble through my mind while I stare at him. I shouldn’t have eaten with Kendra. How the heck am I supposed to pass this class with him sitting next to me?
He glances at me and those dark eyes, so brown they’re nearly black, meet my stare. I refuse to look away. As if not breaking our gazes means I wasn’t checking him out. He arches a brow then smirks at me. That smirk says he’s guessing my deviant thoughts. I give him a scowl then attempt to pay attention to the professor. Focusing with Romeo next to me is harder than dealing with Kendra.
Shit. I’m going to flunk out of both of these classes. If only I was where I should be, in Virginia.
After going over the syllabus, the professor takes role. I pay close attention. Not only for my name, but for Romeo’s also. There’s no way I’d ask him for his last name so this is my only chance to learn what it is. I almost miss it because the professor says, “Justin Romeo.” I’d been expecting Romeo Something. Once it finally sinks in that Romeo is his last name and Justin his first, I lean toward him and whisper, “J.R. huh?”
His lids lower but he doesn’t look at me. “Romeo works fine.”
“So where’s your Juliet?” I ask, and the name of our band finally makes sense. If naming it after him, makes any kind of sense. Then I realize they probably call him Romeo because there are two people named Justin in the band.
His eyes darken as he leans closer to me. “Did you want to try out for the part?”
“No,” I snap louder than a whisper.
“Probably for the best.” He nods. “I’m not sure you’d make it past the first cut.”
Okay, I never expected His Hotness to be attracted to merely cute me, but his blatant proclamation is not only nasty, it pisses me off. Keeping my anger in check, I shrug. “I’m not the harem type anyway.”
Those dark eyes round slightly before he laughs. Loud.
Since we’re in the first row, the professor gives him a long look.
Romeo clears his throat and sits up.
I take vigorous notes once the lecture starts, writing down anything the professor says or does on the board. Every example from the white board is perfectly copied into my notebook. However, not all of the information enters my brain. In fact very little. Between the hotness radiating off the person next to me and the anger inside of me, the professor might as well be teaching under water basket weaving.
After two hours of lecture, Professor Hill announces a much needed fifteen-minute break.
I’m not surprised at the hoard of girls surrounding Romeo as soon as he steps in
the hallway. Walking past them toward the entrance, I don’t restrain an eye roll. Outside, I sit on a bench, listen to my iPod, and tap the beat on my knee. When I come back to class a few minutes early, I am surprised to see Romeo and just one girl talking at the end of the hall. They stand close together speaking lowly.
Pausing, I lean against the wall across from the door to class with several other students. Though I blame hanging in the hall on taking full advantage of my break, curiosity has me watching them from the corner of my eye. From the back, the girl is tall and lean with straight, blonde-brown hair. She turns slightly and smiles up at him. I’m looking at one of Jamie’s Barbie dolls. Well sort of. Jamie likes to cut their hair then color the strands with marker. He smiles back but not as wide. Finally, she gives his chest a playful push before taking off.
It’s obvious they know one another. Wondering how well has my curiosity pulsing in overdrive as I go to my seat.
Romeo waltzes in with a wicked grin in my direction, but the girl who sits at the table to the right of us stops him with an interrogation about the band. I doodle on my notebook while I listen to him answer her questions. Though her initial question was about Luminescent Juliet, most of her inquiries after are about him not the band.
“Did you enjoy watching me?” Romeo asks, plopping down next to me.
I continue doodling on the cover of my notebook. I’m not entirely sure why I was watching him—both with the girl outside and then inside the classroom—but my cheeks heat up. “Conceited much?”
“Interesting, I thought you were looking for ways to get under my skin. I never considered you might be into me. How… cute.”
My eyes narrow on my scribbles. I refuse to look at him. “Yes, since you’ve been a dick for the last two weeks and now are being one in class too, I’ve become infatuated with you. I’m a secret masochist.”
He leans close enough for me to catch the scent of his woodsy smelling shampoo. “If you dress the part and bring a whip, you’ll definitely get past the first cut.” The words are low and spoken near my ear.
