Sweet Home
Page 9
I made it to the correct door and turned the key in the lock, shutting it behind me and locking it again for safe measure. I did not want to come out to a live sex show of some eager college freshmen on her bed.
The room was beautiful. The walls were crisp white, red linens covered a huge king-sized bed, and there was a large antique desk in one corner. The real winner, however, was her personal balcony. Red gauze curtains flowed in the gentle summer breeze over the open doors and starlight glittered against the strands of silver thread subtly woven into the fabric.
I shook my head at the fact that she had all this and she was still in college. Some people never experienced this level of luxury in an entire lifetime—my father and grandma lived in four small rooms their whole lives. I imagined it cost a lot to live here too. That thought snapped me out of my daze, and I began searching for the bathroom as intended.
I reached the far side of the room when a dismembered voice from the balcony called out, “Al, that you?”
I jumped and held my chest, my heart thundering at the fright. I leaned against the bedpost when the owner of the voice entered the dark room.
Rome.
I glanced up to see him staring at me, obviously taken aback by my presence.
“This room is off limits, Mol,” he said rather curtly as he took a gulp of beer from his brown bottle.
Mol. I loved how his tongue rolled around my name. No one had ever called me Mol, but one utterance from his lips had me petitioning to change my name.
I straightened nervously, his gruff voice stunting my breath, and dangled the key in the glow of the moonlight. “Yeah, I know. Ally gave me her key to use her bathroom.”
With a lick of his lips and without another word, he stalked back onto the secluded balcony terrace on his bare feet. I watched him go and scurried to the bathroom. I quickly took care of my needs and stared into the mirror, willing myself to pull it together.
I borrowed Ally’s brush from the vanity and ran it through my frizzy hair and resecured the knot at the top of my head to contain the mass of brown curls. I spotted her toothpaste and put some on my finger, running it over my teeth, and finally, I straightened my rumpled toga, tightening it over my C-cup br**sts and around my curvy behind. The tattoo on my hip wasn’t visible, much to my satisfaction, and with a final smoothing of my eyebrows and a plumping of my cheeks with my fingers, I left the safety of the bathroom.
I gently clicked the door open and tiptoed towards the exit. I was almost at the door when Rome shouted flatly, “Mol?”
I froze on the spot. “Yeah?”
“You wanna hang here for a while… with me?” His voice sounded strained, as though he fought his better judgment by asking me. That made two of us. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself with him… at all.
“Mol?”
“Yeah… okay.”
When I stepped out onto the open terrace, I located Rome sitting on a white chair around a patio table, staring through the rails, looking down onto the back lawn of the sorority house with a bored expression on his face.
I pulled out a chair opposite and slinked down, trying to see what had him so enthralled. Rome didn’t acknowledge my presence until he slid a bottle of Bud in my direction and sipped on his own, slouched low in the chair, his thoughts occupied.
I surveyed the balcony behind me, taking in its beautiful decoration of potted bright plants, and when I turned back towards Rome, I was met with the undivided attention of his intense dark-brown gaze, and he hooked a small smile on his full lips for the first time since I agreed to keep him company.
I took a sip of my drink just to do something with my hands. He remained quiet and leaned his head on his hand that was perched on the arm of the chair.
“How long have you worn glasses?” he asked, clearly just to start a conversation.
“Since I was about three, I think. Around then, anyway. My eyesight has always been shite,” I answered, and he turned, staring blankly once more at the crowd below.
A bottle smashed on the lower floor and he peeked through railings to check it out. “It’s getting loud down there,” he mumbled mundanely.
“Yeah. Well, you should try walking down the corridors. It sounds like a brothel. I didn’t realise college life could be quite so… active.”
He chuckled quietly and held his bottle up in a mock toast. “Welcome to Greek life.”
I smiled and held up my bottle too, then downed half of it in one drawn-out swig to enable me to survive the guerrilla attack of nerves that were accosting my body.
I placed the bottle on the table as Romeo raised an eyebrow.
“I like beer,” I explained weakly.
“I can tell,” he answered with that same amused smirk.
I blushed and laid my chin on my cupped hand. “So why are you up here hiding out?”
Rome hunched his broad shoulders. “Don’t feel it tonight.”
I mock-gasped. “Mr. All-star Quarterback doesn’t want to mix with his adoring fans?”
His demeanour changed from amused to pissed off in an instant, and he proceeded to rip the label from his Bud bottle in frustration. “Well, that didn’t take long. Who told you who I am?”
“Lexi and Cass.”
“Who?”
“My roommates, they told me after we… erm, after we… you know…”
“Kissed?” he said bluntly, without embarrassment.
I fixed my eyes to the red-tiled floor. “Erm… yeah.”
“So what did they say ‘bout me?”
“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…”
He stopped in his label destruction and put the back of his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.
I pursed my lips in annoyance. “What?”
“The Tide.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the Crimson Tide. Not Wave.”
I shrugged and waved his correction away dismissively. “Whatever. Tomayto tomarto.”
“Well, we’d better keep that between us. It’s not tomayto tomarto ‘round here. It’s… everythin’. It’s life and death.” He sighed and went back to picking the label.
I took a few more sips and announced, “So, Romeo, eh?”
Cocoa eyes frosted ice cold. “It’s Rome.”
The room was beautiful. The walls were crisp white, red linens covered a huge king-sized bed, and there was a large antique desk in one corner. The real winner, however, was her personal balcony. Red gauze curtains flowed in the gentle summer breeze over the open doors and starlight glittered against the strands of silver thread subtly woven into the fabric.
I shook my head at the fact that she had all this and she was still in college. Some people never experienced this level of luxury in an entire lifetime—my father and grandma lived in four small rooms their whole lives. I imagined it cost a lot to live here too. That thought snapped me out of my daze, and I began searching for the bathroom as intended.
I reached the far side of the room when a dismembered voice from the balcony called out, “Al, that you?”
I jumped and held my chest, my heart thundering at the fright. I leaned against the bedpost when the owner of the voice entered the dark room.
Rome.
I glanced up to see him staring at me, obviously taken aback by my presence.
“This room is off limits, Mol,” he said rather curtly as he took a gulp of beer from his brown bottle.
Mol. I loved how his tongue rolled around my name. No one had ever called me Mol, but one utterance from his lips had me petitioning to change my name.
I straightened nervously, his gruff voice stunting my breath, and dangled the key in the glow of the moonlight. “Yeah, I know. Ally gave me her key to use her bathroom.”
With a lick of his lips and without another word, he stalked back onto the secluded balcony terrace on his bare feet. I watched him go and scurried to the bathroom. I quickly took care of my needs and stared into the mirror, willing myself to pull it together.
I borrowed Ally’s brush from the vanity and ran it through my frizzy hair and resecured the knot at the top of my head to contain the mass of brown curls. I spotted her toothpaste and put some on my finger, running it over my teeth, and finally, I straightened my rumpled toga, tightening it over my C-cup br**sts and around my curvy behind. The tattoo on my hip wasn’t visible, much to my satisfaction, and with a final smoothing of my eyebrows and a plumping of my cheeks with my fingers, I left the safety of the bathroom.
I gently clicked the door open and tiptoed towards the exit. I was almost at the door when Rome shouted flatly, “Mol?”
I froze on the spot. “Yeah?”
“You wanna hang here for a while… with me?” His voice sounded strained, as though he fought his better judgment by asking me. That made two of us. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself with him… at all.
“Mol?”
“Yeah… okay.”
When I stepped out onto the open terrace, I located Rome sitting on a white chair around a patio table, staring through the rails, looking down onto the back lawn of the sorority house with a bored expression on his face.
I pulled out a chair opposite and slinked down, trying to see what had him so enthralled. Rome didn’t acknowledge my presence until he slid a bottle of Bud in my direction and sipped on his own, slouched low in the chair, his thoughts occupied.
I surveyed the balcony behind me, taking in its beautiful decoration of potted bright plants, and when I turned back towards Rome, I was met with the undivided attention of his intense dark-brown gaze, and he hooked a small smile on his full lips for the first time since I agreed to keep him company.
I took a sip of my drink just to do something with my hands. He remained quiet and leaned his head on his hand that was perched on the arm of the chair.
“How long have you worn glasses?” he asked, clearly just to start a conversation.
“Since I was about three, I think. Around then, anyway. My eyesight has always been shite,” I answered, and he turned, staring blankly once more at the crowd below.
A bottle smashed on the lower floor and he peeked through railings to check it out. “It’s getting loud down there,” he mumbled mundanely.
“Yeah. Well, you should try walking down the corridors. It sounds like a brothel. I didn’t realise college life could be quite so… active.”
He chuckled quietly and held his bottle up in a mock toast. “Welcome to Greek life.”
I smiled and held up my bottle too, then downed half of it in one drawn-out swig to enable me to survive the guerrilla attack of nerves that were accosting my body.
I placed the bottle on the table as Romeo raised an eyebrow.
“I like beer,” I explained weakly.
“I can tell,” he answered with that same amused smirk.
I blushed and laid my chin on my cupped hand. “So why are you up here hiding out?”
Rome hunched his broad shoulders. “Don’t feel it tonight.”
I mock-gasped. “Mr. All-star Quarterback doesn’t want to mix with his adoring fans?”
His demeanour changed from amused to pissed off in an instant, and he proceeded to rip the label from his Bud bottle in frustration. “Well, that didn’t take long. Who told you who I am?”
“Lexi and Cass.”
“Who?”
“My roommates, they told me after we… erm, after we… you know…”
“Kissed?” he said bluntly, without embarrassment.
I fixed my eyes to the red-tiled floor. “Erm… yeah.”
“So what did they say ‘bout me?”
“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…”
He stopped in his label destruction and put the back of his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.
I pursed my lips in annoyance. “What?”
“The Tide.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the Crimson Tide. Not Wave.”
I shrugged and waved his correction away dismissively. “Whatever. Tomayto tomarto.”
“Well, we’d better keep that between us. It’s not tomayto tomarto ‘round here. It’s… everythin’. It’s life and death.” He sighed and went back to picking the label.
I took a few more sips and announced, “So, Romeo, eh?”
Cocoa eyes frosted ice cold. “It’s Rome.”
