Bad Romeo (27 page)

“Yeah, well, you always did underestimate my feelings for you,” I say, and turn away from him to fiddle with the stem of my glass. “That was one of our major problems.”

“I know it sounds like a cop-out but … I just couldn’t comprehend how you could love me as much as I loved you. It just didn’t seem possible.”

For a moment, I can’t believe what I’ve just heard. He always had trouble saying the “L” word. It was the one thing that made what we had too real for him.

When I glance over, he looks like an arachnophobe who just trumped a roomful of spiders.

“Impressed?” he asks. “Look at me go with the ‘L’ word. Didn’t even stutter.”

“It’s like a miracle, only less likely.”

Now it’s his turn to gaze at his wine. “It’s only taken three years for me to realize that not saying it didn’t help me deny my feelings. Whether or not I loved you wasn’t dependent upon a word. It was just a fact. Plain and simple. You’d be surprised how often I say it these days.”

I go back to my wine, because his face is so full of emotion that I just can’t look at it.

“Music?” I say, and head over to my iPod.

I spend a few moments looking mindlessly through my playlists, before he says, “Need help? Because if you pull out any country music, I’ll be forced to mock you.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“What, that you once spent real folding money on a Dixie Chicks album? Nope. Never living that down.”

“Hey, there were some good songs on that album.”

“Cassie, there was fucking
yodeling
on that album. I’m pretty sure that album killed the stereo in my old car.”

I laugh. “You used to blare AC/DC out of that car every day. Those speakers were completely shredded. You can’t possibly blame two minutes of yodeling.”

He walks over and takes the iPod from me. “That two minutes scarred my eardrums for life. I can only speculate about what it did to my poor stereo. Now, step aside, woman. Allow me to find the perfect music for us.”

I shake my head and sit down. I’m once again struck by how surreal it is to have him in my apartment. Six months ago, it would have been inconceivable. Now he’s trying so hard to show me that he’s matured and grown. If only I had. Even now, I can feel resentment bubbling inside of me, waiting for him to make one wrong move so it can explode.

“Oh, wow,” he says with a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Don’t hate me for putting this on, but … God … this album…”

The opening strains of Radiohead’s
Pablo Honey
filter though the speakers, and I immediately tense.

I take another mouthful of wine.

“I can change it if you want,” he says. “I just … I haven’t heard it in a while.”

Yeah, me neither.

“It’s fine,” I say, before drinking again. The alcohol makes it easy to lie. This album was the soundtrack of so many memories, and although they’re pleasant ones, they’re also the parts of him I miss the most.

He joins me on the couch, far enough away to make it look like he’s respecting my personal space but close enough to make my wine-addled brain crave him closer. I lean my head back and let the music distract me.

We’re on the third song by the time Tristan appears in front of us, freshly showered and ready to go out.

He takes in the scene before him and frowns. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you two were meditating. Although I’m not sure why you’d be meditating to sex music.”

Holt squirms a little.

“Cass, are you sure you don’t want to come out with me?” Tris asks. “It’s bubble night at Neon. You could even bring tall, dark, and brooding here. Looks like he could use some bubbles.”

“No, thanks,” I say with a sigh. “I’m kind of enjoying my meditation. You should be proud.”

Tristan’s mouth presses into a thin line as he turns to Holt. “So that’s how this is going to work? You just waltz back into her life and get her to do something I usually have to bribe her with chocolate to do?”

Holt blinks at him lazily. “What can a say, man? I don’t need to use chocolate, ’cause I’m just naturally sweet.”

Tristan looks at me in confusion, like he’s struggling with either really liking Holt or really hating him.

Welcome to my world.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Tristan says as he frowns at Holt once more. “But Cassie? Just remember what we spoke about. I don’t want to arrive home and have to cleanse your aura of douche vibes.”

Ethan tenses. “I’ve worked very hard to rid myself of ‘douche vibes,’ but if by chance some still exist, I promise not to infect Cassie with them.”

“You do that,” Tristan mumbles as he heads down the hallway to grab his jacket. “See ya, Cass.”

“Bye.”

The door opens and closes, and Holt and I sink further into the couch.

“Call me crazy,” Holt says as he turns to me, “but I think Tristan really likes me.”

“Well, that’s one theory.”

“What the other one?” he asks.

“That he wants to tear off your head, poke out your eyeballs, and use your skull as a bowling ball.”

“Oh, he bowls?” he deadpans.

“Occasionally. On disco night.”

He smiles—one of those beautiful, lights-up-his-whole-face smiles. When he notices me staring, his smile fades into a more wistful expression.

“Man, I’ve missed this. I never realized how much it hurt to not be with you until I saw you again, and the pain went away.”

My smile falters. The wine is making his tongue loose and his eyes intense, and I’m not drunk enough to hear him say stuff like that.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, almost whispering.

“Ethan…”

“Not the bastard me,” he says. “The me who was good to you. Made you laugh. Who … loved you.”

“Unfortunately, he was locked inside the bastard you,” I say, glancing up at him. “I could never have one without the other.”

“You can,” he says. “I promise, you can.”

“It’s going to take me a while to believe it.”

“I get that. I never thought making things right with you would be easy, but I know it will be worth it.”

“What if it’s not?” I say, unable to bear him thinking we’re just going to walk off into the sunset. “What if, after all of this time, you’re just fooling yourself into thinking we can rekindle something that’s been over for a long time?”

His eyes cloud over, and the familiar pull I feel for him thickens the air between us.

“Cassie,” he whispers as he leans forward, so close I can smell the sweet scent of wine on his breath. “We’ve never been over. You know it as well as I do. Even when I was halfway around the world and you hated my guts, we weren’t over. You can feel it between us now. And the closer we are, the stronger it gets. And that’s what scares you.”

He looks at my lips, and it takes every ounce of my dwindling self-preservation to turn away.

“If you can tell me you don’t feel it,” he says quietly, “then I’ll back off. But I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, can you?”

I only hesitate for a moment before saying, “I don’t feel it.” The line falls flat.

He touches my fingers, grazing warm fingertips over the back of my hand until he reaches my wrist. He wraps his hand around the thin bones and squeezes gently.

“You can say what you like, but your pulse doesn’t lie. It’s pounding. I’m doing that to you.”

“How do you know it’s attraction and not fear?”

“I’m certain it’s a bit of both. But the attraction is definitely there.”

I pull my hand away and drain the rest of my glass. I’ve drunk too much. So has he. Lack of inhibition isn’t going to help anything at this point.

I yawn, and stand. “Well, it’s getting late.”

He nods and smiles. He can read me like a book. “Yeah, I’d better get going.”

When we reach the door, he turns to me, one hand on the handle.

“Cassie,” he says hesitantly as he leans on the doorframe. “Before I go, I just need to know one thing.”

“What?”

He leans forward, his voice low. “You and Tristan weren’t exactly whispering in the kitchen. I heard him say you wouldn’t be able to resist me if I asked you to sleep with me. Is that true?”

I take in his tall frame filling my doorway, the long line of his throat leading up to his remarkable, emotional face. I remember how his body feels under my hands, the noises he makes when I touch him. The incredible look he got on his face every time his body was joined with mine.

“Ethan…”

“Wait,” he says and shakes his head. “Don’t answer that. Because if you told me that you wanted me … well…” He looks down at me, and I can tell how much he wants to touch me; how his fingers flex and clench at his sides, how his breathing gets a little rough. “There wouldn’t be enough self-restraint in the world.”

Thankfully, before either of us does anything stupid, he takes a step back. “Good night, Cassie. For both our sakes, shut the door. Now.”

I close the door in his face.

Even through the wood, I can hear his sigh of relief.

Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
Romeo and Juliet
Opening Night Party

The music is too loud. It vibrates through my skull and makes my eyeballs hurt.

The living room is packed with people swaying and laughing. Some of them are actually attempting to talk to each other over the noise that’s trying to pass itself off as music.

On the couch next to me, Lucas is smoking a joint. He offers it to me, and when I refuse he passes it along to Jack, who’s so glassy-eyed he could be labeled Glassy McStaresalot in Madame Tussauds.

I’m a little freaked out that someone is smoking illicit drugs so close to me. I keep expecting my father to burst through the door and go ballistic, but of course, he’s on the other side of the country, and even with his finely tuned dad nose, he couldn’t smell it from over there.

I’m pretty sure he couldn’t, anyway.

“Cassie!”

I look over at Ruby, and she mimes the “drink up” gesture. I sigh and down the shot of tequila I’ve been holding. She jabs a wedge of lemon at me and gives me a thumbs-up. I shove the lemon in my mouth, and she smiles broadly.

After putting the lemon and shot glass on the coffee table, I slump back onto the couch and sigh. For the millionth time in the last two hours, I look around, hoping that Holt’s decided to make an appearance.

Of course, he hasn’t.

“I’m going to get some air,” I yell as I stand and move past Ruby. She nods and pours herself another shot.

When I reach the front of the house, Elissa is sitting on the stairs, sipping something from a large cup.

I flop down next to her. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Sure,” she says. “I love getting ruptured eardrums every time Jack has a party. Just because he’s half deaf, he’s determined to drag us all down with him. His neighbors must hate his guts.”

“His dad owns all of the neighboring houses. That’s the only reason he gets away with it.”

She offers me her drink as she gazes out into the street.

“Waiting for Ethan?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“Think he’ll show?”

She shakes her head. “Every run-in with Dad turns Ethan into a ball of rage. I’ve tried to tell him to just let it go, but he won’t listen.”

“Has their relationship always been so … complicated?”

“Yes.” She laughs. “It’s like Dad just doesn’t know how to deal with him. He’s fine with me because I’m a girl, but with Ethan? I don’t think he knows how to communicate with him on an emotional level. My theory is it’s because our grandfather didn’t believe men should be openly affectionate with each other, because it made them soft, or whatever. So now, whenever Ethan challenges Dad, they fight instead of talking things through.”

“That must be tough.”

“It is. And it got worse a few years ago. I blame Vanessa, the bitch-whore.”

My ears prick up. “Oh, so it wasn’t Olivia?”

“No,” she says, and sighs. “Vanessa was patient zero for all his issues. She’s the reason it went south with Olivia.”

“What happened between them? Ethan and Vanessa, I mean.”

She looks down and runs her finger around the edge of her cup. “You should talk to him about it.”

“Elissa, please. I’ve tried asking him, but he clams up.”

“Yeah, but he’d kill me for telling you.”

“I get that, but if it makes you feel any better, he read my diary, so he knows a whole stack of personal stuff about me I’d rather he didn’t.”

Her mouth drops open. “He read your
diary
?”

“Yeah. A few weeks ago. I
might
have written something about how much I wanted to touch his … uh … penis.”

“Oh my God.”

“And I kind of implied his dick could win awards.”

“Oh … whoa.”

“I know.”

“Plus … ew. That’s my brother.”

“I know. But in my defense, your brother’s extremely hot.”

She looks at me doubtfully. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

Elissa sighs. “Well, as gross as it is to me, I’m kind of glad you feel that way, because you’re the only girl I could see him getting serious with since the whole thing with Vanessa played out. I can understand why he’s hesitant, but still…”

“Please tell me that statement is going to segue into the full story.” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes.

She gives me an eye roll before saying, “Vanessa was Ethan’s high school sweetheart. They started dating in sophomore year.”

I nod and try to hide the vicious jealousy that flares inside me. It’s stupid to be jealous of a girl I’ve never met, right?

“At school, Ethan and Vanessa were like the golden couple. But behind the scenes, they argued a lot. Vanessa liked pushing his buttons. If she thought he wasn’t giving her enough attention, she’d flirt with other guys. She thrived on making him jealous. I totally think she was a sociopath. She even used to flirt with Ethan’s best friend from grade school, Matt. She used jealousy to keep Ethan in line.”

“Why didn’t he just dump her?”

“I don’t know. It was like she had him under her thumb. She could manipulate him into anything. Used his insecurities against him.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, one night during senior year, after Ethan had finally told Dad he wasn’t going to medical school and would be applying to The Grove instead, they had a really bad fight. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but the next thing I know, Mom’s crying and Dad’s yelling at Ethan to get out. After that, he went to Vanessa’s place, but she wasn’t there, so he headed over to Matt’s. When he got there, he walked in to find Matt and Vanessa. In bed.”