Sweet Rome (Sweet Home) (11 page)

I kept her hand tight in mine, not wanting to let this feeling go.

“You okay?” she asked again.

“No,” I confided, the tears threatening to fall.

“You want to talk about it?” I absolutely did not, so shook my head.

“Does he hit you a lot?”

I decided to just go with it. She’d seen more than anyone else ever had; no use in pretending otherwise. “Don’t get a chance much anymore. He was pissed with something I’d done. He called me to meet him and… Well, you saw the rest.”

Shifting in front of me, she asked, “What was so bad that he’d strike you like that?”

I wanted to reply with the truth—because I was a blight on their perfect lives, a reminder of something they’d rather forget—but I was never going go there, never ever going to reveal that, so I simply said, “Money, disappointment, not being the dutiful son. The usual. He’s never gone that far in public before, though. I’ve never seen him so pissed.”

“But you’re his son! How dare he treat you like that? What the hell have you done to deserve to be punched?”

I
wasn’t
going to go there.

Sitting back in frustration, but accepting that she wasn’t getting an answer, Molly changed the subject, asking about the Arkansas game. I confessed that I hadn’t been playing well.

“I’ve never had such a bad start to a season in my entire life. My senior year, the one in which I’ll enter the draft, and it’s all going to hell in a hand basket.”

“Why is it going so bad?” Her eyebrows were pulled down, her thick frames slipping a fraction down her nose.

Pushing them back up into position, I revealed, “Because I can’t complete even one of my passes. I’m letting the team and fans down. My parents won’t back the fuck off over Shelly—you just witnessed my daddy’s insistence on that issue. She’s being a bigger leech than normal and I’m constantly fighting her off. My head is all over the place, I can’t sleep or get focused, and thinking about a certain English girl keeps me up every night. Every fucking night. She’s plaguing my dreams.”

Needing to feel her touch, I laid her hand against my cheek, the contact calming me right down.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like.” Her answer was breathy,
telling.

It was time I told her some home truths. “I thought about our last meeting nonstop while I was away.”

“Yeah. Me too. It’s been… different to have my head filled with a certain Bama hottie and not Dante, Descartes, or Kant.” I wanted to laugh at her cute as hell accent and thank the Lord that she’d been thinking about me too.

“You think I’m a hottie?” I asked jokingly, nudging her arm.

“You’re all right.” Her nose crinkled as she smiled and that blush crept up her cheeks. I’d gone from hating the world to feeling on top of it.

“Where were you going at this time of morning when you saw this hottie getting a beatdown?” I needed to move from this tree, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to class. I wanted to be wherever she was, and I pretty much always did what I wanted.

“Rome—” She went to say something, but I cut her off.

“Answer the damn question, Shakespeare.”

“The library. I have notes I need to write up for Professor Ross. She has an office there where I can work undisturbed. I saw… what happened with you and your daddy and thought you needed me more than the exciting world of academia does right now.”

Standing, dragging her with me, I announced, “Let’s go.”

“Where to?” She frowned in confusion.

“The library. I’m going to help you. We can’t let the world of academia down now, can we?” I lifted her bag off the floor and placed it on her shoulder.

“Romeo… are you sure you don’t want to go home or do something else? We could talk more if you’d like. Whatever you need.”

Jesus, talking about my home life was so
not
what I wanted. Hell, what I really wanted was to take Molly back to my room and not bother surfacing until I’d had my fill, but I wasn’t sure that suggestion would go down well.

Pulling on her hand, I said, “No. We’re going to go to the library and I’m going to help you with your paper.”

“You’re going to help
me
with philosophy?” I should have been insulted by her disbelief, but that air of arrogance she always had when it came to her studies just made me want to prove her wrong.

Turning her around and wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I whispered, “Hey, just because I’m a jock don’t mean I’m stupid. For your information, I’m acing that class. I may be able to show you a thing or two.”

I let her go and quoted, “For example,
Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant who was very rarely stable.
”

Letting out an excited giggle, she sang, “
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table
.”

“
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle, and Hobbes was fond of his dram
.” I gestured for her to finish.

“
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart. I drink, therefore I am.’
”

She was British after all. Wasn’t watching Monty Python like a rite of passage or some shit? Her huge grin told me I’d just racked me up some points in her book.

“So you’re a
Monty Python
fan?” she asked excitedly.

“Well, you can’t study philosophy and not be familiar with ‘Bruces’ Philosophers Song.’” Truth was, one of my first philosophy professors in sophomore year used to play it all the damn time. After that, I watched every film they’d made.

“I agree, but I never pegged
you
for a British comedy nut.”

“It’s Python,” I said simply. I held out my hand. “So let’s go. I surprised you once with my philosophy knowledge. I’m pretty sure I can do it again.”

“Whatever, you’re twenty-one. I’m still only twenty and I’m already on my master’s. I doubt there’s anything you can show me, superstar. It’s my area of expertise.”

There she went with that mouth again. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her to my chest, gripping her tight, and leaned in to whisper, “Maybe not in philosophy, but I can sure as hell show you other things, Mol—in
my
area of expertise.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, and I smiled, feeling her heart beating like crazy in her chest.

I ran my lips down the skin of her neck, kissing her pulse and teasing, “Much more…
pleasurable
things than work.”

I caught her pause in breath, and, satisfied that I’d rattled her nerves, dragged her with me. “Come on, megabrain, let’s go research and get your dirty mind outta the gutter.”

That’d teach her to try me.

We worked in the library for hours. Not once did she push me to talk about my father, or about anything else; her mind was completely focused on her task. She kind of reminded me of
Rain Man
when she worked, totally immersed in her own little world.

“Come on, Shakespeare, I’ll walk you home,” I finally said when Molly yawned for the fifth time in the space of ten minutes and my ass had begun to ache from sitting in one spot too long.

“Yeah, okay.” She agreed tiredly, and we set off out of the library, only a few students still pulling all-nighters on the near-empty floors.

The campus was pretty quiet as we walked down the main path, and happy that no one was around, I reached down, taking Molly’s hand in mine. At first her fingers stiffened at the action and she flashed a questioning look at me, but seeing my refusal to let go, she just let it be. It felt right having her close, and I liked that if anyone spotted us, it looked like she was mine. That sentiment sat better with me than it should have. I was Rome Prince. I didn’t do commitment with chicks, but Molly being on my arm just felt really fucking perfect.

Halfway home, Molly asked, “Rome?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have fun when you were away in Arkansas?”

That question caught me off guard, and I glanced down at her head hanging low, wondering where the hell this conversation was heading.

“Not really. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to get back.” I pulled her to face me, trying to get a read on her mood. “What you getting at?”

Kicking her toes into the grass beside us, she glanced up at me and said shyly, “Cass brought up some pictures of the after-game party you attended, on Facebook.”

Frowning, I asked, “Yeah, so?”

“Well, I saw what some of the guys were doing. You know, shots… Beer…
Women
… I didn’t see any of you, but…” She trailed off.

Placing a finger beneath her chin, I forced her to meet my eyes again. “You want to know if I fucked anyone?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite so crassly, but… yeah, I suppose I do. I know it’s none of my business, so feel free to tell me to bugger off if I’ve gone too far.” Her eyes fell to the ground again.

“Look at me,” I instructed, and she did so guardedly. “Plenty of groupies made a pass at me. They always do. I don’t really have to try too hard, Mol.”

“Oh.” Her head bowed, and her shoulders slumped in disappointment. It made me beyond fucking happy that the thought of my being with someone else would bother her so much. “But I told them all to fuck off and went home alone,” I finished, and her head shot up.

“You did?” she said with a happily surprised tone.

“Yeah.” I leaned down and smirked. “None of them could argue about utilitarianism for shit!”

She burst out laughing and retook my hand. I finished walking her back home, her hand this time slightly less tense in mine.

It was the first night in a long time I slept right through with no nightmares… nothing on my mind but a certain damn cute brunette.

9

The next day, after early morning training, I showered and threw on my jeans and shirt in record time. Austin and Jimmy-Don glanced at each other from the other side of the locker room, shaking their heads in confusion at my haste.

“Going somewhere?” asked Austin.

Raking my fingers through my wet hair, I replied evasively, “Yeah, catch you later.” With that, I ran to the library and straight up to Professor Ross’s office, trying the handle.

Locked.

Shit.

I checked the time; Molly would be here soon. There was only one thing for it. I’d have to see Ms. Rose. A shudder ran down my spine, knowing that the minute she spotted me, she’d be too excited and all over me like white on rice.

Heading to the desk, I spotted long gray hair, and, leaning in on the counter, lilted, “Hey, Ms. Rose, how’s it going? Looking good. Purple’s your color.”

She turned slowly on hearing my voice and beamed. “Rome Prince! How nice to see you, darlin’!” She approached the desk, her yellowing teeth showing as she pulled back her thin lips in a wide smile, moving to stand right before me. Shit, how she still worked at her age was a mystery to me. She had to be nearing a hundred.

“What brings you here this early?”

Giving her my best seductive smile, I said, “I need a favor.”

She tilted her head, amused. “Now, you know I can’t be giving you any special treatment. Gotta treat all the students here the same.”

“Oh, I know that Ms. Rose, but I thought, well, because we’re such good friends, you’d make an exception. Just this once?”

Patting my hand with her bony fingers, she gushed, “Rome Prince, such a bad boy! And Lord knows I’ve never been able to resist a bad boy, especially one as handsome as you! What do you need, honey?”

It always worked. “Can you open Professor Ross’s private office for me? I’m working in there today and forgot the key.”

Winking, she lifted the counter and shuffled painfully to the elevator. “Let’s go before I get into trouble for breaking the rules.”

Ms. Rose opened the office, switching on the light, and left me to it, but not before firmly patting me on my ass as she passed.

I gaped at her retreating form in shock.
Seriously?

Throwing my bag to the table, chuckling at her audacity, I sat down and got comfortable, waiting for a certain Miss Shakespeare to arrive.

Thirty minutes later and the door creaked opened, Molly jumping in surprise at my lazy stance, lying back in my seat.

“It’s about time, Shakespeare. I’ve already written a goddamned thesis waiting on you.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, the biggest most fucking blinding smile on her face.

Lifting off the seat, I moved to stand before her, saying, “I’m here to assist the assistant. Put me to work. I’m eager to please.” I waggled my eyebrows for extra effect.

Setting down her book, she looked at me speculatively. “You want to tell me how you got in here, in a locked room?”

“I have a secret admirer in the librarian. She opened it for me after a little sweet talk.” And a feel of my ass, but I didn’t feel entirely comfortable sharing that piece of information.

“Ms. Rose? She’s like ninety!” Mol said, choking on a laugh.

“Cougar on the prowl, more like,” I relayed with a grimace and wide eyes.

Molly lost her humor and studied me. “Mm-hmm. And why, Romeo, do you want to help me write notes again?”

My stomach dropped. I’d never even contemplated that she might not have wanted me interrupting her studies again. Shit! My arms crossed and I grumbled, “You don’t want me here? I’ll go if I’m getting in your way. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted.”

Her features softened and she placed her warm hands on my rough cheeks, her thumb dusting over my bruised cheek and lip. “Hey, I didn’t say that. I’m just taken aback by the fact that
you
want to be here with
me
. It’s… nice to be with you, in any capacity.”

Relief coursed through my tense muscles and I moved my head to press a kiss to her palm. “I like being around you too, Mol. I feel good when I am. Plus, I owe you for what you did for me yesterday.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she whispered shaking her head profusely.

Feeling completely calm and even happy, I stroked down from her cheek to her shoulder. “I’m staying with you.”

“What about your classes?”

Fuck my classes. They had no pull if she wasn’t there. “I’m staying with you. I’m kind of becoming addicted.”