Sweet Rome (Sweet Home)

by Tillie Cole

  “It’s my brothers, man,” he said in a tight voice. “Levi got roped into the crew, and fucking Axel let him do it, saying it was necessary to pay for my momma’s medical bills. Levi’s fourteen. He’s too young to be caught up in that crap! I ain’t got no money to give. Axel’s telling me to keep up football for the payout and they’ll handle everything in the meantime. I need to be drafted this year so fuckin’ bad.” He tipped his head to the ceiling, then dropped it again, his damn tortured eyes meeting mine. “Let’s go to this initiation tonight, Rome. I’ll go crazy if I stay here thinking about it all. I need to get out, need to forget all this shit for a while.”

  I could see he was hurting. His younger brother Levi was a good kid. Axel, his older brother, not so much. Austin had fought to keep Levi out of the gang that had long ago sucked in Axel, and I could see how it pained him to know that Levi had now gone down the same road.

  “You know I’ll give you the money, Carillo. Just say the word,” I said quietly. Austin’s eyes darkened with embarrassment.

  “Rome, I know you mean well, but there is no way I’m taking a hand-out from you. I’ll deal with it. I always manage to work something out.”

  Yeah he does, but it ain’t often legit.

  “You need us to pay your brother a visit? Talk to him, figure out a way to get him out of all that shit?” Jimmy-Don offered.

  Austin shook his head. “No getting out once you’re in. Hell, look what they still expect me to do.” He placed a hand on Jimmy-Don’s shoulder. “I appreciate it, though, but this is family business. I’m not involving you two.”

  Shifting impatiently off the couch, Austin asked, “We going?”

  “Done deal. Let’s go,” I replied.

  Jimmy-Don stood and offered his hand to me. He pulled me from the couch with a huge, happy grin, and once Reece got his ass back downstairs, we headed out the door.

  “Hey, guys! They’re all waiting for you in the back room,” Ally said as we walked through the door of the sorority house, my cousin looking bored out of her mind as she sat on a stool at the entrance, acting out her role of “welcoming committee.”

  She walked over to me, rolled her eyes, and kissed me on the cheek. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. It’s not exactly your thing.”

  “Yeah, kind of forced to come.” I watched as the guys filtered into the room, then tipped my chin to the door. “What’s Shel having them do this year?”

  Ally shook her head in disgust. “Kissing a brother and guessing what they’ve just eaten.”

  I ran my hand across my head. “Shit, how old is she?”

  “I know, right? Anyway, there’s all ages pledging this year. We needed upperclassmen. Well, that and transfers. Even bagged ourselves some genius Brit or something. Most of the girls are happy with that acquisition, seeing as though all the other charters wanted her with them to fill their quotas. I haven’t met any of the newbies yet, though. I’m just hoping they’re not all mini-Shels and at least one of them has a brain and doesn’t get all tied up in her games.”

  Running a hand through my hair, I asked, “Genius Brit?” I tried to sound casual, but, yeah, I came off sounding like a douche.

  Ally’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, regarding me shrewdly. “Yeah, she’s on a master’s program or something. Apparently she’s a TA in our philosophy class too. I don’t know. Why you being so weird all of a sudden?”

  I sniffed and crossed my arms across my chest. “No reason.” I pointed to the room. “Pledges in there?”

  Ally stepped back and crossed her arms, mimicking my stance. “You’re going in?”

  “Yeah.”

  As I walked past my annoying cousin, she grabbed my arm tight, wrenching me back. “You’re going in?”

  “Yeah! What’re you not getting?” I bit out, jerking out of her grip.

  “Mr. I fucking hate all the Greek shit—direct quote!—suddenly wants to get involved in Shelly’s messed-up initiations?”

  “I’m just curious,” I answered, trying to sound casual, but she just continued to look at me with an unnervingly suspicious glint in her brown eyes.

  I pounded away from my pain-in-the ass cousin, shoulders bunched with tension at her questioning, and marched through the doors of the back room.

  Looking up through the thick crowd, the first thing I noticed was a long line of pledges decked out in tight togas and opposite them, a line of football players, most sporting hard-ons as they waited their turn to kiss the blindfolded girl before them.

  Shelly was such a child at times, and I couldn’t believe she was having these girls do this shit.

  “What the fuck? You’re actually coming to enjoy the show? You feeling okay?” Austin said from his place lounging against the wall, sounding more than shocked at my presence. I decided to ignore him too as I searched along the line.

  Bingo.

  Molly was at the very end, standing awkwardly, fidgeting nervously, but still looking her unique kind of hot under that thick, black blindfold. And hell if my mind didn’t wander to what I could do with that piece of material and all the ways to make her scream.

  Shelly walked past each pledge, grinning and snickering as she went. I saw her signal to Brody MacMillan, the worst-looking guy on the team—a guy who waits at least two weeks before showering. His drunken face brightened and he stood before Molly. On instinct, her hand flew to her mouth, and I knew she’d smelled him, his body odor and his complete disregard for hygiene. Mac didn’t care, though, never had.

  He leaned in, but my feet were already moving, and just as their lips were about to touch, my hands landed on his chest, and I launched him out of the way, his fat ass hitting the floor, his flailing arms bringing down the table of spare blindfolds as he went. “Move, MacMillan. I think you’re in my spot,” I said in a way that invited no backchat.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Molly as her thumb went to her mouth. I was hard, real fucking hard, and couldn’t wait one damn minute longer to taste her.

  “Ah n-no… B-bullet! Shelly said… said…” I glanced at him on the floor, his beer belly flopping over his too-tight pants, eyes rolling all over the friggin’ place.

  “I don’t give a shit what she said. Go get a fucking drink, or pass out, or something. You get me?”

  He sagged to the floor, and I signaled for a few of the freshman players to get him the hell out of this room and into a bed. “I-I get you. I get you, man,” he slurred as they dragged him out by his arms.

  “Wait! Mac has to—”

  I held up my hand and glared at Shelly as she approached.

  “Shut the fuck up, Shel!” I bit aggressively, and she slinked back to her friends, face outraged and seething at Molly. I still couldn’t have cared less.

  Turning back to Molly, I edged in. She still smelled faintly of vanilla, and I couldn’t remember a time I wanted to kiss anyone more.

  Moving her hand from her mouth to my waist, I almost groaned as her fingers inched up my sides, her lips parting on a small breath. At that small reaction, I knew she was feeling this weird energy too.

  I cupped her cheeks so she couldn’t get away and so I could control our every move, then leaned in, brushing a kiss across her lips. I was trying to be soft, gentle—Christ knows that’s not how I usually operate. But then her hand dropped to my stomach, accidently skimming the tip of my cock, and I lost it. Plain, outright lost any ounce of control I was holding on to.

  In an instant, I smothered her, taking all she was willing to give. My tongue launched into her mouth and I pulled her body hard against my front, the feel of that contact only forcing my tongue to work harder against hers. I fucking wanted it, wanted her, and I was taking it, and thank fuck she was giving me all of it right back, reacting perfectly to my every forward move. Eventually, she withdrew, but not before licking my lips with the tip of her tongue, that action alone almost making me lose my damn mind.

  “It’s mint. The flavor in his mouth is—” She started on about th
e fucking initiation task, but I needed more of her, and at that moment, what I wanted trumped everything else.

  Cutting off her answer, I groaned loudly and dived back in, finishing what I started. She anticipated my aggression and gripped my hair, bringing me in to her as far as I could go, meeting every rough move with her own. My hands began to roam. I needed to feel more of her body. I was about to explore her every God-given curve—but then Shelly had to choose that moment to let her friggin’ mouth fly.

  “Enough! What the hell, Rome? Get off her, now!”

  Tanya moved behind Molly and untied her blindfold, glowering at me behind her back. My attention went straight to Molly, though, and the startled look she gave me when her eyes flitted up to mine and she realized it was me.

  “Hey, Mol,” I said, still not ready to let her escape my hold.

  “Hey, you,” she answered, and fuck, at those simple words, I wanted her again. I started to reach for her once more, until the bane of my goddamn life grabbed my arm and pulled me back, slapping my cheek in the process.

  That did it. Shelly finally broke me and I reached out and grabbed her wrists. “Don’t fucking hit me. Ever. Again.”

  I hated being hit. Yeah, that’s a stupid thing to say. No one likes it—well, unless you sway that way in the bedroom—but for me, it just reminded me of what I’d had to go through for most of my life: pointless beatings.

  “Rome tasted of mint. That’s what you wanted, right, for this ridiculous initiation task?” Molly snapped, not seeming intimidated at all by Shelly’s shit and immediately stopping me from exploding in rage.

  I stared, couldn’t stop staring, as her determined gaze met mine. I needed to leave before my anger became too much or I completely snapped and began nailing Molly to the floor. “She’s right. I’d just chewed gum.”

  With that, I stormed through the full room, only pausing briefly to meet Ally’s sympathetic gaze at the exit. I hit her with my best “don’t start” glare, then got the hell outta Dodge.

  “Rome, Man! Wait!” Austin shouted from behind.

  Swerving to face him, I held up my hand. “I’m good… I… shit, I just need to be on my own.”

  “What the hell just happened? Who’s that chick? And why the fuck were you kissing her?”

  I glared at my best friend, clenching my jaw. “Carillo, I’m telling you to leave it. I can’t be around Shel right now, so I’m gonna split, okay?”

  “You sure?” I could see the questions in his eyes, but simply nodding, I headed up the stairs to the top floor, Ally’s private balcony calling my name.

  4

  Three bottles of beer, two long hours of people watching, and five texts from the folks. No… wait… I checked my phone. Make that six.

  Daddy: Can’t avoid this for long, boy. Spoke to Martin Blair tonight. Looking like a summer wedding next year after graduation. Don’t fuck this up. And from now on, MAKE the arranged dinners I plan. Not a request.

  I cleared the message and tipped my head back, searching the constellations above just for something to distract my mind.

  Didn’t work.

  Summer. A summer wedding.

  Perfect.

  My mind wandered to what it would be like being married, or even being in love. I couldn’t imagine it—what my ideal girl would look like, what the hell we would talk about, if she would be able to cope with my mood swings, my past.

  I shook my head, trying to rid myself of my dark mood, hearing laughter and music down below me in the yard. Kegs were popping, folks were doing shots, but none of it appealed, and to top it all off, I still smelled Molly’s vanilla scent on my shirt.

  Damn.

  I kinda liked her. The way she kissed, the way she clung to my hair, pulling me close with her fists, and, mostly, the way she wasn’t fazed by all the football shit, didn’t look at me and instantly think, Tide QB, must try and tame.

  I was in the middle of chastising myself for thinking too much about Molly when suddenly, the door to Ally’s room clicked open, and I craned my neck to try and see who was there. “Al, that you?”

  There was no answer, so I got to my feet, ready to kick out whichever horny bastards had sneaked in. I just wanted to be left alone. I walked into the bedroom and stopped dead.

  Speak of the devil and he shall appear, I thought idly.

  Molly. Fucking English Molly, gripping the bedpost in shock. Molly in a tight, figure-baring toga, staring at me with those huge, stunning eyes, and Christ, if her hanging on to that post didn’t give some pretty interesting ideas.

  “This room is off-limits, Mol,” I said gruffly as I zoned in on her full lips and caught the way her eyes drank in my bare arms. She was affected by me.

  Good, not just me, then.

  I quickly took a swig of my beer to stop the nerves. I felt nervous for the first time in my friggin’ life, and that never happened—not in football, not even when dealing with my folks—but here we were, a geeky librarian with shit dress sense weirdly unnerving me.

  She lifted a key into the air and said quietly, “Yeah, I know. Ally gave me her key to use her bathroom.” I stared at her for a moment longer and turned back to the balcony, needing to put some space between us… and get away from Ally’s damn inviting bed.

  Once back outside, I pulled out my chair, propped my legs up on the table, and fought my conflicted feelings. I couldn’t get the idea of inviting her here on the balcony out of my head, but I knew I should leave it and not give in to my want.

  I have ten months left, I reminded myself again. I couldn’t let anything fuck that up, not even pretty English girls with the innate ability to harden my cock on sight.

  Resolute to just let my interest in her go, I settled back, once again watching the crowd below. I chuckled as I watched Jimmy-Don get hit on by the female equivalent of him: big, loud, and country to the core. The girl walked straight up to him, hooked her arm around his neck, and planted a wet one right on his shocked lips. Jimmy-fucking-Don, the best guy I knew: kind, funny, and loyal to a fault. I was happy he was finally getting some, even if the girl, from up here, looked as scary as shit.

  My ears pricked when I caught the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut, and I had a decision to make: let Molly slip away, no harm done, or seize the day and get her out here with me, actually find out her deal.

  Insanity won out and before I could stop myself, I quickly shouted, “Mol?”

  But there was only silence from the bedroom. My feet slammed to the ground and my head whipped in the direction of the doors. “Mol?” Had she left already?

  “Yeah?” a timid voice finally sounded from inside.

  Exhaling in relief and putting all my worries aside, I asked, “You wanna hang out here for a while… with me?”

  “Yeah… okay.”

  We’d been sitting out on the balcony, just talking. I don’t think I’d ever been alone with a chick that long before without getting naked. Girls came to me for one thing: a good fuck. But this was different. I kinda wanted to get to know this girl beyond the bedroom.

  After watching her almost down her bottle of Bud, she asked, “So why are you up here hiding out?”

  “Don’t feel it tonight.”

  She dropped her hand to her chest and gasped, “Mr. All-star Quarterback doesn’t want to mix with his adoring fans?”

  Every ounce of me froze. She’d found out I played football—perfect.

  I ripped off the label of my beer; it was that or launch the brown glass at the wall. “Well, that didn’t take long. Who told you?”

  “Lexi and Cass.”

  “Who?” I asked in a far-from-friendly tone.

  Her eyes dropped and she fiddled with her hands again. “My roommates, they told me after we… erm, after we… you know…”

  “Kissed?”

  “Erm… yeah.”

  “So what did they say about me?” I pushed.

  “That you were the Romeo Prince, quarterback extraordinaire for the Crimson Wave and
that you were the Prince William of college football, yada, yada, yada…”

  “What?” she asked, taking in my blank face.

  “The Tide,” I corrected, the anger lifting and complete fucking hilarity taking its place.

  “Huh?” she asked again, completely confused, her expression making that more than clear. It was probably the first time in years that her genius ass had felt at a loss.

  “It’s the Crimson Tide. Not wave.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed, stomach tightening, uncontrollably bursting out laughing. Wasn’t “the crimson wave” code for a chick being on the rag or something? Christ, she’d be lynched around here talking like that about the beloved national champs.

  “Whatever. Tomayto tomarto,” she dismissed with a casual wave of her hand.

  “Well, we’d better keep that between us. It’s not tomayto tomarto around here. It’s… everything. It’s life and death.” And wasn’t that just the friggin’ truth? Sometimes the pressure to be perfect was insane.

  I could feel her stare, her inquisitive mind working overtime. “So, Romeo, eh?” She finally asked after minutes of silence, and I froze.

  “It’s Rome,” I corrected immediately. I was “Rome” to everyone but my fucking parents, and I hated any reminder that I was actually named after a pussy-whipped, poison-drinking asshole.

  Her face lit with amusement, and she half danced, half shuffled on the spot. “Ah-ah! It’s Romeo. I’ve been reliably informed.”

  “No one calls me that, Mol.” I tried to be as polite as possible because fuck, she didn’t know, but that name had me wanting to snap someone’s neck.

  “Just like no one calls me Mol,” she immediately snapped back, not taking any of my moody shit.

  At that burst of confidence, I wanted nothing more than to close in and kiss that impressive scowl off her face. “Touché, Molly…?” I waited for her finish, relaxing some at the new turn in conversation. Fuck me, I was having fun. Actually having fun. Alert the friggin’ media: Rome Prince had cracked a little!