Romeo and the Angel: Impossible Crush Chronicles

by Leeann M. Shane

  Mom was in her bedroom, rubbing her lower back with a handheld massager when I poked my head in. “If you’re okay with it, I’ll go to the grocery store.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Why would I mind? Your help is very much appreciated, Angel. My keys are in my purse. Try not to go too crazy. And if you’re careful, you can stop at the bookstore and get yourself something.”

  I didn’t know why, but my eyes burned. I felt like I hadn’t been happy in so long, that the prospect of going to the bookstore was far too beautiful. There, it didn’t matter if I was alone. The entire store was full of a million other stories. I went into her room and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She kissed me back. “How are things at school?” She gave my face a look.

  The black eye had taken almost two weeks to heal and the split on my upper lip a little longer. I looked like my old self, but Mom could still see the bruises and probably the fact that I had driven both my parents crazy by not telling them what happened. I’d begged Kenzie not to tell them anything, and thankfully she’d listened. But even she gave me funny looks.

  “School’s school.” I shrugged. “Be back. You need anything before I leave?”

  She shook her head, giving me one last pinched look of concern. Truthfully, school wasn’t completely awful now that I’d accepted being persona non grata. I hardly said a word to anyone, and they all seemed happy to keep the streak going.

  I decided to stop at the bookstore first. It was in much like everything, downtown, the melting pot of crime. The streets were poorly paved and there was neglect on most of the buildings. I paralleled parked out front and then made a slow jog into the bookstore, sighing in acute relief when I was hit with the scent of old pages and a lack of reality.

  The front clerk smiled at me, an older woman with surprisingly alert eyes and a kind, weathered face. I heard children laugh, and I frowned in the direction I suspected it had come from.

  “Story time,” she explained. “Every Saturday afternoon we read the kids stories. Gives the parents a break.” She shrugged.

  Her nonchalance was sweet. I bet she did it more for the kids than the parents. “You mind if I sit in?”

  She smiled at her computer. “Nope.”

  I weaved through the rows, coming upon a small circle near the back. About ten kids were seated around a younger woman with a lovely accent. She was reading in Spanish, and the kids were soaking it up. Every kid, that is, but one. He sat near the back, arms crossed over his chest, bored out of his mind. I giggled softly at the sight of him. He looked so put-out.

  I carefully stepped over little legs and wiggling arms and sank down beside him. He looked up at me, gave me a shy smile, and then returned to stewing.

  “What kind of story is she reading?”

  He stewed deeper, sinking fully into his pout. “It’s a story about princesses and girly stuff. There isn’t even any fighting.”

  I looked out over the crowd, finding most of the kids to be girls. There were two boys and they seemed more interested in picking the furry balls off the carpet and lobbing them at each other than the story.

  “You like to read?” I asked, trying not to laugh. He was a cute kid, with a mop of black hair and eyes that were so brown I’d sworn I’d seen them somewhere before.

  He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s the funnest thing in the world.”

  “Me too,” I admitted. “What’s your favorite book?”

  “Romeo and the Angel.” He brightened. “It was my papa’s favorite book and then my big brother’s. And now it’s mine. My brother’s nice to me. He bought me the whole series. Want me to read some to you?”

  How could I not say yes? He grinned and got to his feet, holding out his little hand. “Let’s go see if my brother will let me. He told me I had to sit here and listen, but maybe he’ll let me if you ask.” He pulled me away from the group and into the rows. “What’s your name?”

  I held his hand lightly. “Rya.”

  “Cool. My name is Antony.”

  The little guy was so sweet. He pointed to a section of the store where there were a lot of comfy chairs in front of the in-store coffee shop. There was one guy sitting there, head down, textbooks spread out in front of him; his back was to us.

  “That’s my brother. Come on.” He pulled me over until we were standing at his brother’s side.

  When his brother looked up, the air left my lungs.

  Romeo took the scene in, music blaring from his headphones. He noted my hand in his brother’s, he noted me, and then he gave his brother a stern look, ripping out his earbuds. “What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”

  Antony shrunk in on himself, holding my hand tighter. “She wanted me to read her some of my books.”

  He sat back, not even looking at me. “Oh, she did, huh?”

  That’s where I had seen those eyes before. On Romeo. Too brown and too toffee.

  Antony nodded his head seriously. “She can’t speak Spanish good either.”

  I bit my lip to hide my smile. “Well.”

  Romeo turned back to his textbook. “She can’t speak Spanish at all.” He put his foot on the table and sat back. “And she doesn’t want you to read to her. She’s just being nice. Go back with your sister and leave the strange lady alone.”

  Antony deflated. He looked at his feet, barely holding on to my hand now.

  I glared at his older brother. “That isn’t true. I want to hear your story. Where’s the book?” I reached into a backpack near Romeo’s feet.

  He snatched it away, shooting me a dark look. “Get lost, new girl.”

  There was such animosity dripping from his beautiful eyes. Animosity I hadn’t done anything to earn. “What’s your problem?” I whispered.

  “You.”

  “Me? What did I do to you?” I gasped, indignant.

  Antony pulled free of my hand, parking it on the floor by Romeo’s legs.

  “Nothing, Rya. You’re the innocent victim here after all.”

  His words landed squarely in my stomach. I hated how much they hurt me. “I never said I was a victim.”

  That made him laugh. Once and hard. “Go back to story time,” he told Antony, touching his head.

  Antony got up, gave me sad, wide eyes, and then walked away.

  “Some big brother you are. You just crushed him.”

  Romeo’s face hardened. He clenched his jaw so hard I saw the tendons pulse. “Don’t act like you know me.”

  “I’m not acting. I already know that you’re a jerk. Just like all of your friends and your psychotic ex.” I left him there, stomping over to the coffee shop. I ordered a caramel iced-coffee with extra whipped cream and glared at the clerk the entire time.

  I hid myself within the bookshelves, browsing the endless rows. I tried to focus on what I was there for. Books. I skimmed my fingertips over the spines, reading title after title, but never finding one that called to me. Because my eyes always somehow found Romeo through the cracks in the shelves.

  He was angry. Maybe not even at me, but definitely at something. His left leg shook, and though I thought he was trying to study, he didn’t appear to be able to focus enough to do so, either. He turned the pages in his textbook so roughly, I saw him tear one. I watched his lips curse and then he flung the book at the table, plunging both hands through his thick, dark hair in frustration.

  And then his eyes, with expert precision, cut through the library to the shelf I was hiding behind watching him. Our eyes clashed. His dark and tortured. Mine confused and empty.

  I didn’t exactly know why, but I felt remorse the longer we locked eyes. Maybe not even mine. Maybe it was his I felt. But there was a lot more in his eyes I couldn’t decipher. He was right. I didn’t know him. But he didn’t know me either.

  No one did.

  And I was starting to wonder whether I even knew myself at all.

  I walked over to the coffee shop and ordered another caramel iced-coffee with an extra shot and
even extra whipped cream. And then I walked it over to where he sat, setting it down on the table in front of him. He sat still, unmoving, stewing like a freaking pot. Now I knew where his little brother got it from.

  “What are you doing?” he asked stiffly.

  “It’s a peace offering.” I sat on the arm of his chair, sipping my own coffee.

  He continued to stew. “A coffee isn’t going to cut it.”

  “Not even with extra whipped cream?” What was he, a sociopath?

  “Rya,” he warned, slicing up his eyes to meet mine. “How dare you question my ability to be a brother to those kids?”

  I was taken aback by the intensity in his eyes. The hurt. His siblings meant a lot to him, or he did far more for them than I’d implied. Feeling guilty, I tried to see things his way.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know you or your family. I didn’t mean it that way and I shouldn’t have said that to you.” I slid his coffee closer. “You should highly consider forgiving me.”

  “Why? You haven’t forgiven me.” He did, however, reach for the coffee, taking a disgruntled pull on the straw. He groaned. “Ah, that’s good.” He glared at me, though. Just so I knew he was still upset.

  His pouty attitude was strangely adorable. I wanted to push the hair in his face aside. I gripped my coffee cup tighter, making the plastic squeak. “Maybe we can forgive each other?”

  “Nah. Being mad at you is way easier than feeling guilty.” He pulled long and hard on his coffee. “So good.” He shot me another, I’ll drink your coffee, but we’re not friends, glare.

  “You feel guilty? Could’ve fooled me,” I mumbled, falling over onto his lap. “Scoot over.”

  “What? No. This is my seat.”

  I wiggled myself in anyway, my thigh pressing against his. “Now it’s both of our seats.”

  He opened his legs wider, just to be a jerk, taking up most of the space. “What’s that supposed to mean? Could’ve fooled me?”

  I looked into my cup, the sound of my plastic straw working against the ice the only sound as I toyed with it. “That wasn’t fun, Romeo. Getting jumped for doing something I didn’t do. And even if you and I were together, that doesn’t give her the right to beat every girl up who talks to you. But I guess it isn’t your fault she’s a bitch. I’m sorry I took it out on you.” I peeked at him, finding his eyes serious and attentive. “You can stop ignoring me now.”

  He sighed deeply, and then dug into his pocket, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill. “Here. Call it even.”

  “What’s this for?”

  He cringed. “Raf and I made a bet that he couldn’t get you to… date him. I won. Only right you get half.”

  I stared at him. “You made a bet to see if your friend could what? Get me in bed?”

  He shrugged. “Mostly just your acquiescence.”

  Normally, I’d kick both their asses, but that fifty-dollar bill meant the difference between name brand groceries and the discounted aisle. I pocketed it and then pointed at him. “That’s the last bet you ever make about me, do you hear me?”

  He stared at my finger, his eyes twitching. “You’re pissing me off again.”

  I didn’t remove my finger. For good measure, I shook it, like I would at a dog. “Tell me you won’t do it again, Romeo. Women aren’t wagers. We’re real people. Like your little sister in there right now listening to a princess story. How would you like it if some jerk put a bet on her?”

  He reached up and wrapped his hand around my sole finger, bringing both to his lap. “I’d rip his throat out.”

  Figuring that was as close to an apology as I was going to get, I conceded, giving his hand a squeeze before pulling away. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

  He studied me, unabashedly holding my eyes for a long intense moment.

  How could he do that? Lately, eye contact wasn’t a problem for me. No one even cared I existed, let alone held my eyes long enough to make me uncomfortable. But most people didn’t have eyes like him. So dark, so seamless, so freaking pretty…

  His lashes were dark and long, creating this captivating pull to his face. His body heat seeped into my side and it was scorching; the scent of his cologne was hard to ignore. It reminded me of pine and something smoother, like fresh air. He smelled like New Hampshire.

  Romeo smelled like home.

  “I’m sorry she hurt you,” he whispered, like that admission had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. “I’m sorry she used me as an excuse to put hands on your face. If it’s any consolation, she’s turned to making my life hell. Nothing like having your ex screwing your best friend.” He tried to laugh it off, but there was an edge to his bravado that said he wasn’t okay with Rosa and Raf sleeping together.

  “Romeo.” I found myself completely pulled to him, and without warning I wanted to be closer. I gently pressed my forehead to his. The scent of caramel coffee and his fresh, pine scent swirled around us, clouding my thoughts. My tongue took control of my mouth, said whatever it wanted. “You deserve better than Rosa and Raf.”

  His eyes slid shut and a disbelieving laugh blew from his lips and onto mine, thick of caramel coffee. “That proves you don’t know me. I deserve everything I got.”

  I shook my head, wishing both of my hands were free. “No one deserves that.” I was caught in his dark orbit and I wanted to fall in. Maybe touch his face, mold my fingers around his hard, chiseled jaw. Or skim them over his soft looking full lips. The air in my chest tightened, condensing to the point of finding it impossible to breathe. My free hand toyed with his, dancing with his fingertips.

  His eyes flashed open, electric, glowing toffee midnight. They shot to my lips before resettling on mine.

  I licked my lips.

  He watched me lick them, his pupils flaring.

  “Are you guys going to kiss?”

  The sweet, innocent voice tore through my fog. Romeo leaned away, clearing his throat as he took in the two little humans grinning at us. A little girl with black hair and the same eyes giggled at me, making me blush. I leaned away as well, getting unsteadily to my feet.

  “No,” Romeo said, like she was insane to even recommend that we’d ever do such a thing. “Story time over already?”

  “Finally,” Antony grumbled.

  “Romey, I thought we didn’t have money for a treat?” His sister stared, hard and hurt, at his coffee.

  Again, Romeo cleared his throat. “My friend was in trouble and bought this to earn my affection. It didn’t work, but it was a nice try.” He shot me an amused look when I snorted.

  “I’m thirsty. No,” she said, when he pulled out a thermos of water from his bag. “I want a strawberry milkshake.”

  “I want blueberry,” Antony joined her, bouncing on his feet.

  “See what you did?” Romeo groaned, digging through his pockets. He counted what he had, coming away with two dollars and some change. “Sorry, we can only get one. You have to share.”

  “I’ll get them each one,” I offered, wiggling my hand at his sister. “Let’s go take a look.”

  She, unlike her brother, wasn’t convinced by my presence. “Who are you?”

  “Good girl, Gabby. That’s how you’re supposed to be when a stranger comes up to you. It doesn’t matter if she’s pretty and seems safe. That could be a trap.”

  Pretty and seemingly safe? What exactly was he trying to say? And why could I only focus on that one arbitrary, blank word? Pretty.

  Antony gave me a look. “But she reads.”

  “Yeah, so do all the criminally insane.”

  I stooped low in front of Gabby. “I’m your brother Romeo’s best friend in the whole wide world. Didn’t you know?”

  She shook her head slowly, eyes wide.

  “He writes me love letters all the time and leaves them in my locker. He’s quite the poet.”

  Antony laughed, giggling uncontrollably at his brother, who was gaping at me.

  Gabby smiled, not quite ready to get on m
y side.

  I wondered what had made her leery of strangers. And why it hadn’t worked on Antony, the boy who would rather live in fictitious worlds.

  “He even told me that he’d love it if you let me buy you a strawberry milkshake. You know, because I’m his favorite friend.”

  She glanced at Romeo for confirmation, who was partly gaping now but mostly glaring. “For the record, I have never written a girl a love letter before. But she’s kind of sort of right. You can trust her, Gabs.”

  In seconds, she was my best friend too. She took my hand and grinned, toothy and sweet. “Can I get a cookie too?”

  “Gabby,” Romeo warned. “Don’t be greedy.”

  Antony sniffed. “Mmm, chocolate chip.”

  In the end, we all got jumbo chocolate chip cookies and the kids got a milkshake, one strawberry, the other blueberry, and we piled around the study area. Romeo slid a book across the table, making Antony’s eyes brighten.

  “Want me to read to you now?”

  It was a complete surprise how much fun I had being read to by a five-year-old. We sat close together, chocolate smeared on our fingers, as he read me the story of a teenaged boy named Romeo, whose mission in life was to find the angel of life. He was madly obsessed, risking his life on a daily basis to get to the kingdom of Everhigh to rescue the angel, who’d been held captive from the world for years.

  Finding and setting the angel free gave Romeo all the purpose he needed, making his growling stomach at night worth it, and his lonely heart hopeful.

  “Who is the angel?” I asked, looking at Antony.

  But it was Romeo who answered. “Up to you.”

  I met his eyes across the table. “What do you mean?”

  “Who do you think she is?”

  Antony continued to read, ignoring us.

  “I don’t think she’s corporeal. I mean I guess she can be, if you’re young like him she probably needs to be, but I think the angel is the only thing keeping Romeo going. She gives him hope. She gives him purpose.”

  “She saves his life,” the real Romeo finished, his eyes doing that toffee midnight thing on me again.