Chapter One
Darla
It isn’t until he grins at me that I realize I’m eyeballing him. That country music star at Bongo Java last month didn’t make me gawk this much. This man’s green T-shirt matches his smiling eyes, which stand out even from across the room, in contrast to his fair skin. I’ve never stared at a boy like this before, and getting caught ogling makes my cheeks feel as if they’re going to catch fire. Maybe if I hadn’t waited until the last week of college to go to a party, I would have a better idea of how to handle frat-boy eye candy.
My stomach is doing this snap, crackle, pop sound that has me second-guessing the chips and salsa I ate earlier. I’m sure everyone at this party hears my heart pounding, even over the “woo-hoos” that erupt when each new guest enters and the wompity-womp music blasting from the speakers.
This must be what it feels like to be in a movie where everything gets fuzzy except for that one thing that stays in focus. That one thing zooms closer… grinning.
He’s moving this way, when a dude stops him. He listens to his buddy and nods at appropriate times, but he still holds my gaze. He pats the guy’s back then continues in my direction, closing the chasm between us. He runs his hand through his blond hair, messing it up in all the right places, and all I want to do is mess it up more.
“Finally, after all this time, he’s going to speak to me,” Mallory says.
My roommate’s voice startles me back to reality. Oh yeah, she’s still here.
“What?”
She inches closer to my ear. “That guy coming our way. He’s so shy. I’ve probably hit on him five times this year. I make a point to know when he’s at the dining hall. He eats the same food every single blasted day. I mean, what college boy lives on salad and baked chicken? And I say ‘hey’ to him all the time, but the boy doesn’t take a hint.”
I lower my eyes to the floor. I thought he was noticing me, when, of course, he was checking her out. If I were a guy, I would be doing the same thing. When I get the nerve to sneak a peek, I lock eyes with him again. Oh, sh-sugar. This time, regardless of what Mallory thinks, I’m positive his eyes are really focusing on mine. But that’s impossible.
“Darla, don’t wait up,” she whispers.
I glance over at Mallory before my eyes shift to the dress I’m wearing, the one I borrowed from Mallory. There’s no competition when it comes to who would win the getting-the-guy contest. That’s why I never play that game. Mallory’s legs go on forever, whereas mine barely get started. She loves these social situations so she can flaunt all her perfectness. My appearance isn’t shabby, if I do say so myself, but that’s because Mallory did my makeup tonight. She also insisted I wear my hair down instead of pulled up into my typical ponytail. Accentuate the positive is Mallory’s mantra, and she says my positives are dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Flaunt it, don’t hide it.
Oh God. I’m at T minus ten seconds before we’ll be nose to nose, and he’s still smiling at me. Suddenly, the room feels excessively small and cramped, just like all five lobes of my lungs. I’ve got to get out of this roach motel before he realizes there’s something more appealing to stare at. Exhibit A: my roomie. But I can’t stop gawking at those gorgeous green eyes. They’re like magnets that keep me from focusing on anything else, not that I’m putting up a fight.
When I move to make my exit, my face meets the massive chest of a huge linebacker-type dude carrying about five more drinks than one person should possibly try to hold. The plastic cups slosh beer all over my super cute, borrowed sundress. The cheap brew splashes onto my face and drips down my neck. Sweat and beer make a lovely combination on a humid spring night. My sandal slips in something that might have been food a few months ago. If it is as nasty as it smells, I’ll have to burn my sandals after tonight.
Mallory will never let me wear her clothes again. But thankfully, she didn’t even notice. She’s doing this girlie finger wave in hopes of getting the cute guy’s attention. Another guy grabs her around the waist. She squeals, and they rush off toward the kegs. That’s typical Mallory. When someone new shows her attention, she forgets her current mission.
“Do you mind?” I yell at linebacker dude, hoping my words rise above the deafening music pouring out of the stereo speakers.
“Not at all, babe. Here, let me help you out.”
He reaches toward me to wipe down the front of my dress, causing more beer to pour over the rims of the cups. I smack his hand away. Creepy perv. Not in this universe, bud. I search around and see a room at the top of the stairs that I really hope is a bathroom. God help me if it’s someone’s bedroom. The way this night’s going, it wouldn’t surprise me.
Linebacker dude follows right behind me. His beer breath on my neck makes me feel as if somebody is walking over my grave. All eyes watch us climb the stairs. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t belong at a frat party. This place is for happy, outgoing people like Mallory. I need to clean myself up and leave.
Linebacker dude pops my butt, snapping me out of my internal monologue. Oh, he did not do that. My nursing professor would call what I’m feeling an irregular heartbeat. If I don’t get control of my heart rate soon, someone will have to call 9-1-1. Getting the attention of Cutie Pie followed by getting too much attention from Non-Cutie Pie is more than I can handle in one night.
“Back off, Stevens,” someone yells from across the room.
Linebacker dude, a.k.a. Stevens, and I both snap our heads in the direction of the command. Whoa! That baritone voice with the southern drawl came from Mr. Smiley Eyes himself. I steal a glance at Mallory, who is busy picking her jaw up off the nasty floor, before I flee into the bathroom upstairs and escape all unwanted advances.
I slam the door shut. Hopefully, Stevens won’t follow me in here. He’d better not. Even drunken frat boys have some manners. At least I hope they do. “What am I doing here?” I ask to my reflection in the spittle-covered mirror. Beer drips down Mallory’s sundress. The material is now a nice creepy light-amber color over what used to be a really pretty shade of pink. Streaks of mascara trail down my cheek, making me look as though I’ve been crying. That might happen if I have to face Stevens again on my way out.
I splash cold water onto my face to remove the raccoon eyes my mascara left behind, while doing my best to avoid the collection of hair and unidentifiable objects caught in the drain. I fumble through my purse in search of my hairbrush.
Suddenly, the door swings wide open. I shriek and drop my purse on the nasty, sticky floor. Smiley Eyes rushes in. This night keeps getting crappier. Some one-on-one time with this guy would be awesome in any other setting. But right now, I look more suited for the cover of a Courtney Love CD. Not a great first impression. But at least the guy busting through the door isn’t Stevens.
“Shh.” He slams the door and locks it.
I back away from him, bumping into the toilet. “What are you doing?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“What are you doing?” I ask in a more hushed tone.
“Hiding from that long-legged gal that keeps chasing me.” He places his ear to the door.
“Which one?”
“Don’t know her name; don’t want to know her name.” He gawks at me, making my pulse race.
I stare at the mirror, trying to fix my rat’s nest of hair. “How did I get talked into coming here?” I ask my reflection.
He leans toward the door and listens for another minute before he deposits himself onto the counter, millimeters away from me. “I was wondering about that. You’re kinda like the elephant in the room.”
I scrunch my brow.
He stares at the ceiling and groans. “That didn’t come out right. It was supposed to be a compliment.”
I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date, much less had a real boyfriend. School has been my priority, and I really don’t need a distraction this close to graduation. But he’s so darn cute, and there’s something about him that makes my insides tingly when he focuses on me.
I run my brush through my hair once, adding a few new samples to the collection in the sink, while I quickly glance at the cute guy out of the corner of my eye. For some reason, I still hold his attention. My pulse picks up the pace again, and I’m sure it sounds like The Tell-Tale Heart. At any minute, my heart is going to explode out of my chest. I’m trying to remember if a beta-blocker or an ACE inhibitor would work better to decrease my heart rate. I don’t think either will have a significant effect with this guy so close to me.
“I’ll take that compliment.”
“Good,” he says.
“Good,” I reply like a stupid parrot. Think of something to say, quick.
He cracks a grin again, and bam—a dimple pops out on his right cheek. Have mercy. Now, I know I have pretty good self-control, but a hefty dose of cuteness coupled with that adorable dimple is going to make me drool so fast my head will spin. But that dimple is probably part of his standard operating procedure to make the girls swoon. He has to know how cute he is and what that dimple does to me—I mean, what it does to all girls. I’ll bet he gets the once-over all the time and loves it.
He leans down to pick up my purse and hands it to me. When he glides back onto the counter, he dangles his feet like a six-year-old sitting on the side of a swimming pool. So far, he hasn’t popped my butt or sloshed beer on me, so he’s two points ahead of Stevens in the manners department. At least he has that going for him.
“Thanks.”
“Stevens didn’t scare you, did he?”
I wave him off. “Nah. You, on the other hand, have me a bit worried.”
He laughs. “Hey now. And here I was making sure he didn’t follow you in here. I was trying to be a gentleman.”
The tingly sensation flutters in my stomach again. I’ve never had anyone keep a watchful eye out for me, especially a guy that’s so kind and easy to talk to. There’s definitely more to this person than a pretty face. I can’t explain it, but I know I can trust him.
I sit on the counter next to him, but my butt slides into the sink. He catches me, as though it’s a natural thing to do, rather than trying to cop a feel. Even through my dress, I can feel the warmth from where his hand touched my waist. Maybe I could fake another sink-slip so he’ll grab onto me again. Darla, get it together and get out of here fast before you let him grab you in other places.
“Sure you are. Should I take a poll of all the girls downstairs to see how many have been fed that line before?”
He makes this girly “oh my God” face and bats those irresistible eyelashes. “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”
I roll my not-so-irresistible eyes. “Quoting scripture doesn’t make you a saint.”
He stares at me and chuckles.
I switch my focus to the dried beer on my calf. I don’t want to stop gaping at the man next to me, but I need to if I want to regain the ability to breathe and speak simultaneously. At least my heartbeat isn’t so loud that the people in the next county can hear it anymore.
I take a deep breath and try to sound confident, even though I don’t feel it at all. “So, am I going to be trapped in here all night?”
“It appears so.”
“Actually, there’s nothing to stop me from leaving except you. I think I can take you.”
He puffs out his chest and gives me another dimple sighting. “I think you called me small, but I’m going to ignore that comment. Besides, what’s the harm in keeping me company? At least until Sally or Tally starts sniffing in another direction.”
“Because you were being a gentleman, I’ll give you a few more minutes of my time.” I sigh and blow a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I smell like beer.”
He leans in and sniffs me. How strange and surprisingly… nice.
Goose bumps form on the back of my neck, although his breath isn’t creepy like Stevens’s ogre breath. It’s warm and inviting. And I might let him do that again if he wants to.
“At least it’s fresh beer and not recycled.”
I crinkle my nose at the thought. “That’s… ew.”
“What’s your name?” he asks.
Oh no. I am not giving him my name. He’ll probably spread rumors about me. I know how frat boys work. Nope. Not going to happen. People can say a lot of things about Darla Battle, but one thing’s for sure—I am not gullible.
“Juliet,” I blurt out. Now he’ll think I’m a hopeless romantic.
He snorts. “Really? Juliet?”
I nod and try not to grin, but it’s not working, so I cover my mouth with my hand. “So, what’s your name?” I cannot believe I asked for his name. I don’t want to know his name. Okay, maybe I do.
“Hmm.” He stares at the ceiling, and a playful grin slides across his face. “Romeo.”
I can’t help but smile. “Do your parents hate mine?”
He laughs. “I guess so, but I wouldn’t let that stop me.” He extends a hand that I take without hesitation. “It’s nice to meet you, Juliet.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. He has a nice, warm hand. I hold on to it a bit longer than I should. In fact, I could hold on to his hand for a very long time. I’m drawn to him like a magnet, and I have no plans to resist the feeling.
His gaze wanders down to our hands, which are still wound together. Oh crap. I’ve exceeded the proper allotment of contact time with a complete stranger. I snatch my hand away as if a bolt of lightning suddenly hit me.
“Nice to meet you too, Romeo. But just so you know, I’m not killing myself over you.”
His dimple pops out again. “Duly noted.”
He stands and stretches as though he’s getting ready to run a marathon. Then he claps his hands together as if psyching himself up for a big game.
His actions cause me to snap out of my daze. I blink at him like a fool. A bang on the door startles me, and I jump so high that I almost hit the ceiling.
“You don’t wanna come in here,” Romeo says. “I need the candle of shame.”
“Sorry, man,” someone says from the other side of the door.
Romeo glances over his shoulder at me, and his eyes light up. “So, how good are you at Rock-Paper-Scissors?”
He is full of surprises. Instead of plying me full of alcohol and forcing himself on me, he wants to play kid games. He didn’t make me feel stupid because I didn’t want to give him my real name. Romeo is definitely somebody I think I can trust, somebody I would like to know more about. There’s something about him… “I’m a beast.”
“Bring it,” he says.
I rummage through my purse and find a tube of lipstick. On the mirror, I write ROMEO and JULIET in block letters. “Let’s do this thing.”
For the next hour, we play round after round of silly childhood games.
A knock on the door interrupts us.
“Hey, girl, are you in there?”
I mouth to Romeo, “My roommate.”
He makes puking noises. “No. Go away.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing.
“Okay, but if you see her, tell her I’ve left with Jason.”
“Sure.” I can hardly understand his words over his fake retching sounds, and it’s all I can do to keep my giggles silent.
I add another notch under the JULIET side of the mirror and smirk at him. Watching him is worth the price of admission. I like the way he paces and mumbles under his breath when he loses a game. Each time he sits back down on the counter, he’s a wee bit closer to me. His knee taps against mine as we get involved in the next round.
I like it even more that his eyes twinkle when he wins. And he winks at me. Yikes. I really like his ritual before each round of thumb wrestling. We start with a handshake. Next, he slowly slides his palm over mine until we lock into position. His soft, strong hand is a stark contrast to the calluses on each of his fingertips.
“Can I go home now? We’ve worn down two tubes of lipstick already, and unless you carry makeup on you, we’re completely out of writing utensils.”
He smirks at me.
“Is that a tube of lipstick in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?” I slap a hand over my mouth, trying to force the words back down my throat. I cannot believe I said that. I don’t know how to flirt, but with him, it seems natural. I need to take a deep breath and say good-bye before something else crazy spews from my mouth.
“Good one, but no… on the first part.” He slides off the counter and places his ear up to the door. “Sounds like a lull in the action. I think we can make a run for it. Let me get you some clean clothes.”
Nope. Not a good idea. “That’s very nice of you, but—”
He grabs my hand and cracks the door, peeking out before he opens it. Then we dash down the hallway, away from the stairs and toward bedrooms. He scans over his shoulder every few steps with a wide grin spread across his face.
Romeo unlocks a bedroom door, and we slink inside. He kicks off his shoes after he closes the door.
I don’t make a habit of being in guys’ rooms, but this one is pretty atypical. Aside from the normal socks strewn on the floor, it’s kind of orderly. No beer bottles or fast-food containers litter the table. And thank goodness, the standard frat aroma doesn’t permeate into his room.
But the oddest thing is the Bible on the nightstand. I certainly don’t see that every day. He either uses it as a prop to draw in girls, or he’s got a spiritual side to him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s the real deal. How nice that would be.
He opens a drawer and removes a T-shirt with “Don’t trust atoms. They make up everything.” printed on the front. Oh yay! He’s geeky too.
He tosses the clothing at me. “You can wear that. Oh, and here are some scrubs.”
I have to do some serious juggling, but I catch everything without dropping my purse.
“Okay, but I’ve got my ion you,” I say, hoping he gets my geeky humor.
His knees buckle. “Ah, talk nerdy to me.”
It takes all my willpower not to laugh at his joke. He’s funnier than I expected.
“No offense, but how do you live in this frat house? I mean, your room is actually quite clean, but the rest of the place is gross.”
“And you saw the clean parts. I kind of wish I’d stayed in the dorm.”
“Do you ever leave your room without shoes?”
“Never. Besides, I’m not here much. I’m usually at the library.”
I slip off my sandals, and Romeo faces away from me before I even have to ask. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. I wriggle out of the sundress and slide on the T-shirt. Then, I take a look-see over my shoulder to make sure he’s not looking. He continues to stare at his feet. He’s either a perfect gentleman, like he said, or he’s not interested in anything more than silly games.
“Sure,” I say as I finish changing. “The library.”
“I’m serious. If I was smart like my brother, I could party all the time and not worry about my grades. But I got the handsome genes.”
I try to stifle a giggle. I don’t know why Mallory thinks this guy is shy. He’s far from it. He’s super easy to talk to. I’ve only known him an hour, and I feel as though I could tell him anything.
“Actually, he did too, but don’t tell him I said that,” he adds.
It’s getting harder to muffle my laughter.
“And the height. Hell, maybe I should introduce you to him.”
The laughter bubbles up in my throat and out my mouth. It feels good to really belt it out. With the stresses of finishing nursing school, I can’t even remember the last time I smiled, let alone had a good belly laugh. “I’ll pass. You can turn around now.”
He grins again, and I melt. “That’s better.”
I curtsy. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a dorm refrigerator with a padlock on it next to his bed. “So no one steals your brewskies in the middle of the night?”
He tsk tsks at me. “There you go, being judgy again. Am I going to have to whip out my Bible?” He points to the Bible on his nightstand. He either really does know his scripture, or it’s a good conversation piece for all the girls he parades through here.
He unlocks the fridge and removes the padlock then opens it to reveal soft drinks, water, orange juice, and vials of some kind of medication. My nursing brain kicks into high gear. A guy his age does not have a refrigerator full of medication unless he is really sick. Glass vials mean he has to inject the drug into his body, and from the amount of medication in the fridge, it seems as though he has to do it often. He retrieves two bottles of water and hands one to me. Before I can even open mine, he has guzzled his down.
“Wow. You were a little thirsty, weren’t you? You don’t have a stash of beer in here?”
His mouth tilts up on the side in an almost grin. “It’s bad for my health.” He removes one vial from the refrigerator then grabs a syringe and an Accu-Chek machine from his nightstand. I watch as he wipes an alcohol pad across a finger and pops a lancet over it. He puts a drop of blood on the test strip and slides it into the machine. Now the calluses make sense.
“Type one?” I ask.
“Since I was seven.”
“Why don’t you have a pump?”
“It’s busted.” He whips off his shirt.
Oh. My. God. There goes that telltale heart again. I wish he hadn’t done that. Liar. He’s fit and lean, and I’m finding it really hard to focus. I have to blink a few times in order to bring myself back from fantasyland.
He cocks an eyebrow. I’ve been busted. His whole body tenses when he wipes a spot on his abdomen with an alcohol wipe. “God, that’s cold.”
After he measures his insulin in a syringe, he hands me the vial to hold. He flicks the needle into his pinched skin and tosses the used syringe into a Coca-Cola bottle with a handwritten label that reads, “DANGER—DO NOT DRINK.”
“You should have been a fly on the wall the last time I told Stella I broke another one. She hit the roof.”
“Stella?”
“Stella’s my mom.”
“You call your mother by her first name?”
“Yeah, she’s pretty hip. She’d like you. Anyone who can almost whip my butt at one of my own games is golden in her book.”
“Shoot, I let you win.”
“You did not.”
I shrug. He’s too adorable. I couldn’t bear beating him at his own game.
“You better not hold anything back next time,” he says.
Now, it’s the telltale heart coupled with a full-blown asthma attack. He said, “next time.”
I pick up the insulin vial and roll it between the palms of my hands to keep them from shaking, but mostly I do it to keep from running my hands over his bare chest or through his messy blond hair. I don’t think I could be any hotter if the place were burning down around me.
“Here.” I hand the vial to him. “You might want to put that back in the fridge.”
He takes it and places it on the nightstand. “It can wait.”
He leans in and kisses me on the lips. Oh, sweet Jesus. His lips are even softer than they appear. He moves away ever so slightly.
I clear my throat. “Do you mind—”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
I cover his mouth with my hand to shut him up. “Do you mind doing that again?”
I move my hand away from his mouth, revealing an impish grin and that cute dimple. Not the dimple again. I’m such a goner.
“I don’t mind at all,” he whispers. He leans in to kiss me again. He cradles my face in his trembling hands.
I kiss him back. This time, I let my hands slide up his bare chest, causing him to actually purr.
Sigh.
I can count on one finger the number of make-out sessions I’ve had, and that one was so long ago, I’m sure I wouldn’t even recognize the guy without all his pimples. This is not what I expected tonight, but sometimes, a girl deserves to let go and have fun.
In between kisses, he mumbles, “But I might need that OJ in a bit.”
I giggle and allow him to lay me down on his bed. I know it’s probably a bad idea to be here with him, but I don’t want to leave. I don’t care what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.
After all the fun we had playing his silly games, I’m positive we saved the best for last. And because I’m such a good sport about everything, I think I’ll let Romeo win the first round of our tongue-wrestling competition. Or maybe it’ll be a tie.