Bad Romeo (6 page)

The thought of Erika thinking badly of me makes me want to vomit. On him. “You are such a butthead.”

“And you’re being evasive. Answer the question.”

“Why do you care if I’m”—I want to shock him by saying the “F” word, but I just can’t push it past my lips—”dating him?”

“I don’t. Just curious. You two looked pretty friendly earlier. In fact, it looked like he was going to feel you up in front of the whole class.”

“God, you’re disgusting.”

“Just answer the question.”

“No!”

“‘No,’ you’re not dating him, or ‘no,’ you won’t answer the question.”

“Both.”

“Well, that’s impossible. If it’s ‘no’ to the first you’re automatically saying ‘yes’ to the second.”

“Stop. Talking.” My face is white-hot.

“So is your answer to my original question ‘no’ or not?”

“No, my answer isn’t ‘no.’”

“No?”

“No!” Dammit, now I’m confused as to what exactly I’m saying “no” to.

By now, I can feel a blush crawling down onto my neck. I almost want to laugh about his assumption that I could be “dating” anyone, let alone someone as charming and good looking as Connor.

I’d kissed a few boys at various high school parties, but that was it as far as my experience went. Their sloppy mouths and probing tongues never gave me the urge to take it any further. If sex were baseball, I was still on the bench. The only action my bases had seen was courtesy of my own curious hands, and even then, I’d never achieved a homerun.

Of course, Holt doesn’t know that.

I open my mouth to tell him I’m riding Connor like a rodeo bronco, but the look in his eyes stops me. Amid all his hard edges and stony stares, there’s something fragile about him, and I can’t do it.

I look at my feet and sigh. “No, I’m not dating him.”

Holt’s frown lessens. “Good. Just stay away from him. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Flashes of my father saying the exact same thing about every boy who bothered to look sideways at me jolt through my brain, and suddenly, my newfound freedom doesn’t seem so free anymore.

“Maybe I like the way he looks at me,” I say, and jut my chin. “And if I ever decide to date him, I sure as hell won’t need your permission. You’re not my big brother, you’re not my father, and you’ve already made it very clear you’re not my friend, so excuse me if I don’t run my dating choices past you. Connor is a nice guy. I could do worse than date him.”

Anger flashes in his expression, but he composes his face quickly. “Fine. Date the whole school for all I care.”

“Maybe I will.”

Before he can say anything else, Erika yells for us to move to the next person, and he’s gone.

I’m left standing there wanting to rant at him some more, but Phoebe’s in front of me, and the only thing she wants to talk about is Holt. How handsome he is. How tall he is. How intense he is. How much she wants to “date” him.

I hate her immediately.

After class, everyone stands around chatting, and even though Holt is across the room, I can feel him watching me.

I don’t think I ever truly knew the meaning of the word “antagonize” before I met him, but I sure as heck know it now. I’ve never had someone rub me the wrong way so intensely before. If I’m being completely honest, I kind of like the spark.

I glance over at him to make sure he’s looking before grabbing Connor’s arm and doing my best flirty-Zoe impersonation as I ask him to walk me to the next class.

Holt doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the week.

FOUR

MAKING THE FIRST MOVE

Present Day
New York City
The Diary of Cassandra Taylor

Dear Diary,

The more time I spend with him, the more he invades my dreams. I don’t want to remember, but he pushes through.

He’s here, under my hands. His lips on my skin. It’s perfect and warm, and I tell myself he won’t run away this time.

I hold him to me, willing away the fear, willing him to lose himself in me. To stay. And even though he’s already written a tragedy, I want to change his mind.

Then he’s inside me, and it’s perfection.

I give him the part of myself I can’t imagine giving to anyone else. He tells me it’s precious. That he doesn’t deserve it.

Afterward, he holds me like he never wants to let go.

I believe he’ll stay this way. That it won’t change things.

Of course, it does.

He covers himself again, so disguised by layers that I don’t even see him anymore, just the hurt he leaves behind.

I blame him, but it’s my fault. Stupid, romantic, gullible me.

I saw what I wanted to see. Felt what I wanted to feel. He just played his part.

Sometimes he’s behind my eyes, weeping and exposed, and he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

But it was an act.

He’s an actor.

And he’s very, very good.

Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
The Grove
Second week of classes

I walk out of my History of Theater class, my brain churning with information on Roman amphitheaters, when I run smack-bang into the chest of someone tall and still.

Of course, my notes go flying.

“Frack!”

The tall someone chuckles, and my hackles rise.

I look up into Holt’s smirking face. My expression must scream of impending violence, because his smile drops faster than Zoe Stevens’s panties on a Saturday night.

When I bend to pick up my notes, he’s beside me. I want to slap his hands away, because since the getting-to-know-you exercise on our first day, he hasn’t spoken a word to me. I’m not cool with that.

“Just leave them,” I say as he gathers up my notes.

He holds out the notes, and I snatch them without looking up.

I bite back the instinct to say “thank you,” because after the way he’s treated me, he doesn’t deserve it.

“Thank you,” I mumble involuntarily.

Damn you, automated politeness!

“You’re welcome,” he says in his stupid smooth voice.

I push past him and stride down the stairs toward the Hub. Within a few seconds, he’s walking beside me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Big week, huh?” he says. “I thought Erika was going to kick Lucas out when he showed up stoned, but I think she realized he’s a better actor when he’s half-baked.”

I stop and turn to face him. “Holt, you do not get to ignore me for a week then start gabbing away like nothing happened.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Oh, yes you have.”

“No, ignoring you would be to disregard your presence. I’ve noticed you. I’ve just chosen to not speak to you.”

“Is that better or worse than ignoring me completely?”

“Slightly better.”

I throw up my hands. “Well, thank God. I won’t take offense then.”

“Good for you.”

“I was being sarcastic, butt-munch.”

“Taylor, are you always this grumpy, or are you PMSing?”

“What?! I’m … What?! PMSing?! You are so …
God! Shut up!
”

I walk away, but he keeps pace, and my PMS is making me crazy-angry and weepy at the same time.

“Why are you following me?!”

“I’m not following you. I’m walking beside you.”

Holy Jesus, give me strength!

“What do you want?” I ask, feeling like a tiny yappy dog next to him.

He sighs and looks down at his ridiculous, giant feet. “Nothing. Are you going to Jack’s party tonight?”

“Why do you want to know?”

He rubs his eyes. “I have no fucking idea.”

“Are you going?”

“Probably not.”

“Then sure, I’ll be there.”

He looks at me for a few more seconds before frowning like he’s trying to calculate how many watermelons will fit in a Winnebago. Then, without saying another word, he turns and walks away.

“Oh, okay, so we’re done here?” I say to his back. “Well, thanks for making the effort. Your conversation skills are truly stimulating!”

Thank God it’s the weekend. I won’t have to see him for two whole days.

By the time I’ve stomped back to my apartment, any desire to go to the party has disintegrated. All I want to do is soak in the tub for a few hours, eat my own weight in Ben & Jerry’s, and go to bed.

Ruby has other ideas.

“Get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” I say, sounding like a two-year-old.

“You’re going.”

“Ruby…”

“Don’t start with me, Cassie. It’s our first college party, and you’re going if I have to drag you there by your hair. Judging by your face when you walked in the door, you seriously need to get laid.”

I roll my eyes. I wish I was the sort of girl who could solve her problems with white-hot animal sex. But considering my V-card is well and truly valid and flirting isn’t exactly my forte, the best I can hope for is to not have a completely sucky time.

“I think the only person getting laid tonight will be you, Ruby.”

She throws up her hands. “Cassie, you’re gorgeous. You could have any guy you wanted if you just showed a bit of confidence.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Promise me you’ll make a move tonight.”

I laugh. “I don’t think you understand. I have no moves. I’m move-less. I exist in a vacuum of moves.”

She sets her mouth in such a way that I know I won’t be winning an argument with her any time soon. “Do I need to remind you that you’re an actor? Act like you know what the fuck you’re doing. Now, get your ass into something sexy and let’s go.”

I don’t really own anything sexy, so I settle for my tightest jeans and a low-cut sweater that makes my boobs look great. I even put on some makeup and do my hair. Ruby shrugs her approval.

Half an hour later we’re pulling up to a huge house on a wide street.

“Whoa, who lives here?” Ruby asks as she slams the cab door.

“Jack Avery shares it with two other boys from my class. Lucas and Connor.”

“Connor?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the guy I met on the first day?”

“Yeah.”

“He was cute. Any chemistry there?”

I smile when I think about how attentive Connor has been. “He hugs me a lot.”

“Well, there you go,” she says, as if all my problems are solved. “Make a move on him.”

I shrug, because even though I like Connor, I don’t know if I
like
Connor.

“Listen,” she says, “I’m not asking you to walk down the aisle with him and squeeze out loud, chubby babies. Just have some fun. Make out. It’s not going to kill you.”

“Isn’t the boy supposed to make the first move?”

“Dammit, Cass, stop being such a pussy. Look, I’ll even sweeten the deal. If you get up the balls to make out with a boy tonight, I’ll do your laundry for a month.”

She has my attention. Our building has one ancient washing machine that takes more than an hour to go through its cycle, so laundry day can be a major time suck.

“Fine. I can’t promise I’m not going to be awkward and embarrassing, but I’ll try, okay?”

She smiles and pulls me toward the noisy house. “Good enough.”

There are people talking and laughing on the front lawn. It looks like most of the freshman class has shown up.

I prepare to conjure a personality.

“Come on,” Ruby says as she tugs me into the mess of people. “You need a drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“You do now.” She grabs two bright green test tubes from a girl with a tray. “Two or three of these, and you’ll be tackling boys and ripping off their shirts.”

Despite doubting her prediction, forty-five minutes and three test tubes later, I’m leaning against a wall feeling frisky. I bounce my head to the beat as Ruby dances with a group of boys all desperate to impress her. She’s flirting with a few of them, but one—a tall, well-built guy who’s also in her tech course—is getting special attention. He leans down to whisper something to her. She glances at me and raises her eyebrows before taking his hand and going outside to the terrace.

She makes it look so easy.

Okay, fine. I can do this. Find cute boy. Chat with cute boy. Be charming. Suck on his face.

Panic shivers through me.

Goddammit.

I go down the hallway in search of the bathroom, the one party safe haven where it’s acceptable to be alone.

Before I can find it, I spy Holt standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

What the hell is he doing here?

He leans down and talks to the short, pretty girl by his side.

He has a girlfriend?

Of course he does. Someone as attractive as he is probably has dozens of women throwing themselves at his stupid, large, clown feet.

I feel myself blush, fast and hot, and I don’t like it.

The alcohol has made me slow, and before I can pretend I don’t see him, he’s walking toward me with his hand on the girl’s back. She’s smiling like she knows me.

“Hey, Cassie,” she says. She does look familiar, but my brain is murky. “I’m Elissa. I’m in theater tech with Ruby.”

“Oh, right. Hey, Elissa.” She’d been talking to Ruby the other day in our semiotics class. Pretty face. Doe eyes.

I glance at Holt, and my face burns when I see that he’s staring at my boobs. He quickly makes it back up to my face and clears his throat.

“Taylor,” he says and nods.

“Holt.” I try not to let my brain acknowledge how annoyingly handsome he looks in his dark jeans and blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up.

Forearms. Nice.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” I say.

“Well, I heard all the cool kids would be here, so I couldn’t stay away.”

Elissa glances between us, and I wonder if she realizes how much her boyfriend gets on my nerves.

“So, Cassie, you and Ethan are doing the acting course together?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t done much acting yet.”

“Well, it’s only been a week,” she says, smiling. “Auditions for the term one theater project are coming up soon. I’ve heard rumors they’re doing
Romeo and Juliet
. You never know. You two could end up playing star-crossed lovers.”