Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(16)
Author: Leisa Rayven

“Oh, yeah?”

“She said to ask if she needs to do your laundry for the rest of the month.”

I smile.

Well, I did sexually harass Holt. Even though we didn’t kiss or anything, I wonder if Ruby would count that as making out.

I blush when I think about it.

“Look, Holt, about last night—”

“Yeah, about that,” he says while rubbing his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking, drinking that much? You could have gotten alcohol poisoning.”

“I was”—trying to be something I’m not—”trying to have a good time.”

“Did you have a good time projectile vomiting? Was that fun?”

I shake my head. “For a while I felt good. People were laughing.”

“That’s because you were shitfaced and rubbing yourself on every man in the room.”

“Not every man,” I say defensively. “Only Connor. And … you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s enough,” he mutters. “What’s up with you and Connor, anyway? One minute you’re kissing him, and the next you’re all over me.”

“I didn’t kiss Connor. He kissed me.”

“Semantics.”

“And it was barely a kiss, anyway.”

“So, I guess you’re a horny drunk.”

“I wasn’t horny,” I say indignantly.

Oh God, I was so horny.

“Well, it certainly felt like it from where I was sitting.”

“I was … well … you were there and I was … uh…”

“Horny?”

“Drunk, and that’s why it happened. No other reason. Normally, I wouldn’t do that. To you of all people.”

“Because you hate me.”

“Exactly.”

“But you still want me.”

“What?! No!”

“Yes.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Hey, you were the one sniffing me and kissing my neck and grinding yourself on my … well … on me. If I wasn’t such a gentleman, we probably would have fucked right there in front of all of our classmates.”

His words are ridiculous, but my body doesn’t know that because the tingling ache I felt last night is back with a vengeance.

“Holt, two people who hate each other do not…”

“Fuck?”

“Have sex.”

“Sure, they do. Happens all the time.”

“Not to me, it doesn’t.”

“Pity.”

We fall into silence.

I smile and shake my head.

He frowns. “What?”

“I can’t figure you out, that’s all. One minute you give off this bad-boy vibe, like the world’s going to end if you’re nice to me, and the next minute you’re this really good guy who takes me home, buys food, and cooks me breakfast. Why would you do that?”

He picks at his fingernails. “I’ve been asking myself the same question all night.”

“And what did you come up with?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“A moment of weakness?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe you’re more good guy than bad boy after all.”

He give a short laugh. “Taylor, I’m a lot of things, but I can assure you that the one thing I’m not is a good guy. Just ask my ex-girlfriends.”

His face drops. Like he just told me something he didn’t mean to.

Before I can say anything else, he stands, brushes himself off, and takes a step toward the door.

“Well, I’m outta here. You’ve probably got things to do.”

“I don’t have anything planned,” I say. He stops to look at me. “You can … ah … hang out if you want.”

I never expected to crave Holt’s company, but part of me does. A lot.

“I … uh…” He looks at his feet. “Nah. I have to go.”

I don’t like that I’m disappointed.

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks for the, you know, hair-holding and breakfast and stuff.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

I walk him to the door. He steps outside and turns to face me. “So, I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

As he turns to go, I say, “So, are you going to talk to me next week, or was this a momentary lapse in your resolve to not be friends?”

He turns back, almost smiling. “Taylor, us being friends would be … complicated.”

“More complicated than whatever the hell we are now?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Is the world going to end if we hang out?”

He fixes me with an intense expression. “Yes. The seas will boil, the skies will darken, and every volcano in the world will erupt, thus bringing an end to civilization as we know it. So for the sake of humanity … in fact, for the sake of everything you hold dear … stay away from me.” He’s so serious, it makes me think he isn’t joking.

“Ethan Holt, you’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” I say.

He nods. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You would.”

He stares for a moment longer before shaking his head and walking to his car.

I watch until his taillights disappear around the corner.

After I close the door, I retreat to my room and crawl into bed. As I snuggle into my pillow, I wonder which Holt I’ll see next week: the douche with a giant chip on his shoulder who boils my blood, or the sweet man who made me hash browns from scratch.

Part of me hopes for both.

FIVE

BIRTHDAY WISHES

Westchester, New York
The Diary of Cassandra Taylor
Fourth week of classes

Dear Diary,

Today is my birthday.

Yep. Nineteen years of trying to be everything to everyone and ending up as no one to myself.

How the hell did this happen?

I don’t know if I’m depressed because I feel I should have achieved more with my life by now, or because I’m a nineteen-year-old virgin who desperately wants sex.

I’m pretty sure it’s that second thing.

I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never had a truly toe-curling kiss. Never had a boy touch my boobs or my butt, or pretty much any part of my naked body, and Lord, I’m desperate for it.

Most nights I touch myself, pretending the hands aren’t mine as I search for the crashing pleasure I keep reading about in Harlequin romance novels and Cosmo. But every night I give up, because even though I can feel something building—something shining and explosive and just out of reach—I can never grasp it. It’s like I’m hovering on the edge of a sneeze, and I’m inhaling and inhaling and inhaling, but the orgasmic exhale never comes. Literally.