by Jean Haus
When I tell him I have to get back to homework, he says, “Yeah, I have a shitload to do too. But I’ve been wanting to say something for a while so…
My heart starts thudding in panic remembering Chloe believing Marcus is in love with me.
“I wanted you to go to Virginia, but a part of me was like fan-fucking-tastic when I heard you weren’t going. I would have missed you too damn much.” There’s a long pause of silence between us. “Forgive me?”
“Of course, Marcus,” I say with relief. “A small part of me,” a very, very tiny part, “didn’t want to go either. I knew I’d miss my family and you and Chloe. So maybe things worked out for the best.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, I’ve got to go. See you Saturday.” I set my phone on my desk with a new feeling of guilt. Neither Chloe nor Marcus knows the other is coming. I’ve turned into a sneaky matchmaker within one phone call.
***
Each October, the only theater still showing movies downtown runs the Rocky Picture Horror Show on every Saturday at midnight for the month. And for the last three years, Chloe hauled me to at least one showing. We’ve never brought Marcus. It’s always been just the two of us amid rowdy costumed fans. Neither Chloe or Marcus looked happy when we met up in the lobby, and neither of them have talked to each other, just me.
Marcus and I are both dressed in t-shirts—mine is plain while his has Reading Rocks! across his chest—and jeans. However, Chloe looks fabulous in a forties looking red dress with a flared skirt and a matching hat. She always dresses over the top for this. I was counting on her flash, but Marcus hasn’t seemed to notice.
Amid the loud crowd—some dressed in movie costumes—we stand with me in the middle watching the movie and yelling the lines. Well, Chloe and I yell most of the audience lines. The only ones Marcus figured out are ‘Asshole’ and ‘Slut’ whenever the main character’s full names are said. Between the popcorn and the profanity, he’s having a good time. Unfortunately, whenever he says slut, he glances at Chloe. With each yelled slut and glance her way, Chloe seems to get more introverted.
About half way through, Marcus asks me to tell him the lines in advance. So I try to whenever possible. During the floor show toward the end, Marcus yells out the line I just told him, “Blow us a kiss slut!” in Chloe’s direction.
Chloe freezes. Marcus laughs. My stomach turns. Chloe pivots the other way and walks out of the theater when he keeps laughing. I give Marcus a dirty look then follow her out. Within the heavy press of bodies, some in the aisle way, I lose her. Once I’m out in the concession area, I spot her outside on the sidewalk.
“Chloe!” I yell, stepping outside but she shakes her head and keeps walking. I run to catch up with her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited him.”
She daintily wipes at a tear so it won’t smear her makeup. “It’s not your fault he’s being an asshole.”
“I shouldn’t have invited him,” I repeat. “I just knew you’d look good tonight and I wanted him to see you dressed up. And I just hoped…”
She smiles through her tears and gives me a hug. “Oh Riley, he’s seen me dressed up before. But thanks for trying,” she says over my shoulder. “Oh shit, here he comes.” She pulls away. “Catch you later,” she says, forgetting or not caring we came together in her car.
I whirl around as Marcus comes up to me. “What the hell is your problem?”
His face scrunches in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Why were you such a jerk to Chloe?”
He shrugs. “I’m always a jerk to Chloe.”
But that was before you slept with her! Oh, I so want to junk punch him into reality. “Marcus, you need to stop. Obviously, it’s not rolling off her anymore.”
“Maybe that’s just her conscience.”
Marcus and I have had our spats over the years, but this time I’m truly pissed. “Can you just take me home?”
“You don’t want to watch the rest of the movie?”
“No, I don’t want to watch the rest of the movie. It’s something Chloe and I do together,” I snap. “Since you pissed my ride off into leaving early, you need to give me a ride.”
He digs in his pocket. “Sure. Fine. I’ll give you a ride home. Maybe I’ll just stay at my house tonight. At least my mom will be happy.”
We walk to his beater of a car in silence, and other than the radio, the car is quiet on the way home. I sit with my arms crossed and fume the entire way. But when we pull into my driveway, Marcus says, “Look, I’m sorry I was a jerk to Chloe.”
“You need to tell her that, not me.”
He mumbles something under his breath.
“What are you mumbling,” I demand from behind clenched teeth.
“Chloe just gets on my nerves. It’s like we can’t do anything unless she comes.”
“Okay, I’m not even going to listen to this.” I reach for the door handle. “We’re in college not kindergarten.”
His fingers grip my shoulder. “Wait, Riley.”
“What?” I ask within a sigh.
“I…could you please let go of the door?”
I let the handle go and fall back against the seat.
He turns to me, bending a knee. “You had to know that I liked you junior year.”
Oh hell no. “Why are you bringing this up?”
He takes a deep breath. So deep his chest expands. “Because I never stopped liking you,” he says with the air he lets out.
Hell to the no. “Marcus—”
“I know it probably doesn’t seem like it. Since I’m friends with both you and Aaron, I decided to bury my feelings. Even after Aaron broke up with you. But when you didn’t get back with him last month, I started thinking about you and me again. And I’m tired of pretending.”
Oh really hell no. “Marcus—”
He runs a hand down his face. “I think I’m in love with you,” he says with a laugh as if being goofy softens the seriousness of the words.
“Then why would you sleep with Chloe?”
He rears back until he’s is pressed against the glass of his door. “She told you that?”
“No, you moron. You left the door open. I almost walked in on you two.”
He watches me before he slowly says, “It meant nothing. It’s always been you. Never her.”
“Oh Marcus, that’s not what I meant. If you love me, why would you be attracted to Chloe?”
“Because I’m a guy?”
“That’s the lamest reason I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something Justin would say.”
He groans with frustration. “Can we just forget everyone else and talk about us?”
I want to give him some excuse about my life being such a cluster fuck that I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t want to hurt him, yet I know if the truth isn’t said, everyone will go through more hurt later. “No. You slept with Chloe, and whether you realize it or not, she has feelings for you. Beyond that, I love you as a friend, like a brother.”
“Like a brother?” he repeats softly.
I nod, open the door, and tell him goodnight.
Walking into my house, I wonder what’s going to turn to shit in my life next because I’m quite sure my friendship with Marcus is now on the rocks.
Just like everything else.
Chapter 19
The slow thud of a headache beats behind my eyes. It could be the math. Calculus III sucks. Or it could be the continuous clench of my teeth. Ignoring Romeo’s hotness is entirely too hard.
We sit on the rug with our backs against his bed and our books in our laps. Crumpled papers covered in long calculations lay between us. Romeo’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He isn’t wearing shoes and even the sight of his naked feet is sexy. Each time he leans over and explains something, I catch the scent of clean shampoo, minty mouthwash, and a subtle spice I’m guessing is body wash, which puts inappropriate images in my head. Beyond the fact that we’re in a band together and he’s a
player, is the fact that I shouldn’t be thinking of him all sudsy in the shower while I’m studying for a class I could fail.
I’m starting to understand thirteen-year-old boys. I need to get a grip on my hormones.
“What’d you get?” Romeo asks.
I tell him the number on the calculator.
He shakes his head and shows me the screen of his calculator.
Fuck. Whenever I’m wrong, he gets close. And my head swirls. If it isn’t his smell, it’s the brush of his muscled arm on mine. Or the concentrated look in those dark eyes. Or the pout of those full lips while he thinks of how to explain something. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but his close proximity is bordering on torture.
Of course, he leans over and points to the diagram in the book. The skin of his arm slides over mine. “I’m going to guess you missed the inner ledge here.” A musician’s finger traces the drawing in my textbook while his scent surrounds me.
Shower spray and muscles covered with bubbles flash through my mind. “Yeah, you’re right. I keep forgetting those little surfaces,” I say, keeping my gaze on the tubular drawing.
“Take a break while I go change laundry?” He shifts back to his spot and I allow myself to breathe again.
I force a weak smile and nod. “My brain’s getting fried.”
“The library would have been easier, huh?” he asks, standing and stretching.
I have to force a nod. His jeans ride low. Between hipbones, ridged stomach muscles flex. Holy hell. I resist fanning myself with my notebook and gaze around the room. “It’s kind of odd that you and Justin live here,” I say, stupidly looking for anything to get my thoughts off his body.
He reaches for the empty basket on the bed. “You mean in the dorm?”
“Ah, yeah. Why don’t you guys have an apartment like Sam?”
He shrugs. “Dorm’s paid for. I’m here on a variety of academic scholarships. Justin’s parents won’t splurge for an apartment until his GPA comes up.” He moves to the door. “There’s water and pop in the fridge. Be back in fifteen.”
As soon as he’s gone, I do fan myself. Shit. I wonder if my face is flushed. I get up and look in the mirror above Romeo’s dresser. Relief fills me at the sight of my normal skin tone. I stick my tongue out at my reflection. I spent way too long getting ready this morning and destroyed my room picking out clothes. I didn’t want to look like a slob but overdressing was out of the question. After feeling a bit too much like Chloe, I settled on my favorite pair of jeans and a mauve sweater that brightens my light brown eyes. Then I spent more time getting my makeup right. Not too much, but just enough. Ugh. All of that just to study.
Refusing to think of what all that primping says about me or my motivations, I examine the items on the dresser. A brush, Chap Stick, a stack of papers, and a tube of hair gel look lonely and too neat. Except for the small picture of an older man sitting on a stool and playing a fiddle that’s stuck to the corner of the mirror, Romeo’s dresser screams boring. The huge mess of papers, hair products, gum wrappers, and pile of clothes on Justin’s dresser scream slob.
I move toward the back of the room. Justin’s desk is even messier than his dresser. Romeo’s is neat and orderly. A closed laptop sits in the center. A non-descript cup holds pencils and pens. Books fill the bottom shelf. Three pictures line the top shelf. Thankfully, none are of April. One shows a pretty, dark haired woman holding a toddler. Both are smiling. Another is of the old man from the dresser. This time he plays an accordion in front of a microphone. And the last is another of the old man holding up a boy who lifts up a red, white, and blue stripped belt in between boxing gloves. I pick up the last picture for a closer look. The dark haired boy is obviously Romeo.
“Thought I ruled the world at age eleven with my first title,” Romeo says from behind me and I almost drop the picture.
I didn’t even hear him come in. Startled, I almost drop the picture. “Was the man your coach?”
“And my grandfather.”
I turn. He’s too close but luckily looking at the picture in my hand. “The musical one?”
He nods. “Boxing and music were his life.”
His voice is almost wistful. I clear my throat. “Marcus said something about you boxing here at the university before.”
Dark eyes narrow.
Does it bother him that Marcus and I talked about him? I lean a hip on the desk. “It was when you were in the cafeteria with all those boys.”
He sets the basket filled with folded clothes on the chair in front of the desk. His expression eases as he crosses his arms and sits halfway on top of the desk. “Any sport at the this level is a huge commitment, even out of season. I trained and studied, and that was about it. I missed life. I missed music. I was poorer than shit without a job. I decided to quit and start a band. It just made sense at the time.”
I can’t help a smile. “Well, music makes more sense to me than boxing.”
“Me too,” he says while his gaze goes back to the picture. “But it was a hard decision. My grandfather boxed for half his life. He never made it big, but he was good enough to make a living at it. He wanted me to go farther than him, but I just didn’t have the same drive for the sport as he did. But I do have that drive for music.”
I lower the picture to my side. “So you want to take the band past college?” I joined to keep playing drums. The idea of anything bigger scares me.
He shakes his head. “I’m majoring in music. Minoring business. I’m thinking of getting a master’s degree in music technology and production next or something in a related field.”
“You want to produce music?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure, but a degree in performance seems useless to me.”
I frown at him. I’ve considered a performance degree.
His lips twist into a slight smirk. “I’m not saying people shouldn’t get them, but I’m getting the experience I want through the band.”
“Managing experience too?”
He nods.
I blink. “Um…wow, you have everything perfectly planned out.”
“You must have some plans.”
A miserable laugh escapes me. “My plan was to get to an out of state college and play the drums. Education was part of the packaged deal.”
He raises a questioning brow.
“This is going to sound stupid, but back in freshman year of high school they drilled college down our throats. Probably hoping we’d become serious students. Well it worked with me. I became obsessed with the idea of moving away and going to school. My parents had a modest college fund going for me. I was a good, not awesome student. However, I did play the drums awesomely and our school went to several competitions throughout the year.” I shrug. “I became obsessed with getting a percussion scholarship.”
His chin tilts. “You did get one.”
“I did, but things didn’t work out.”
“Your mom?”
I nod. “And my sister.”
His eyes turn into melting dark chocolate. “That’s pretty amazing for you to give up your dream for them.”
“Ah yeah, it doesn’t always feel amazing,” I say while my cheeks heat. Feeling warmer by the second under his gaze, I set the picture on the shelf. “Between the scholarships and the band, I’m sure your grandfather’s still proud of you even though you don’t box.”
“He would be.”
“Oh…” my eyes round with the knowledge that his grandfather must have passed away. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It’s been over five years.”
I don’t entirely believe him. Obviously, his grandfather was someone important in his life. “Well you’re still involved with boxing right? You were pretty impressive keeping that group of boys controlled.”
“I’m shocked,” he says with a grin.
“Why?” I say slowly, confused by his announcement.
He leans closer. “You, drummer extraordinaire, just compli
mented me.”
Ah, so that was the reason for his astonishment. I lean over the desk too. “Was that a return compliment?”
His full mouth curls into a wide smile. “I believe it was.”
My eyes lock on that mouth for two seconds too long. When I look up, Romeo is watching me. My whole body warms. “We should get back to studying.”
His lashes lower. “We should,” he says but sways just the tinniest bit closer.
I sway in too.
The sound of someone turning the doorknob has us jumping apart.
Justin walks in. I’m in the corner next to the little fridge while Romeo sits on the desk with his arms crossed. Justin looks between us. “What’s going on?”
Hell, my face burns at his words.
Romeo flicks a finger to our Calculus books lying on the floor. “We’re just taking a break from studying.”
I bend down and grab the first thing my fingers come into contact with in the fridge. Unscrewing the water, I let out a little laugh. “It’s more like tutoring. I’m not doing too hot in the class,” I say, hoping Justin will buy my embarrassment as academic.
Justin finally pulls his eyes from us then moves to the mess on his dresser. “Well you came to the right place. Nobody’s as smart as Romeo,” he says sarcastically.
Romeo gives him a level look.
I let out another little laugh. “Yeah, I just might pass tomorrow’s test.”
Justin plucks a beanie from the tumbling mound on his dresser before yanking out a jacket from the closet. “Sam’s having a poker party at his apartment if you get done early.” He opens the door. “Twenty will get you in.”
“Um…maybe,” I say still feeling like an idiot.
Justin nods. “Later losers,” he says, shutting the door.
Romeo stands. “Fuck,” he snarls, turns, and punches the wall.
The water almost slips from my grip as I step back and run into the fridge.
“I told myself this wouldn’t happen.” He holds his fist. “Between the band and your boyfriend, I’m acting like a fucking idiot.”
