Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(20)
Author: Leisa Rayven

He’s so worked up, he’s panting. I have nothing to say because he’s said it all.

No one has ever known me well enough to call me on my issues before, and I guess that he’s so upset means he actually … cares.

“You’re right,” I whisper.

“Yeah, I am,” he says. “So fucking quit it.”

I shuffle my feet as the quad starts clearing of people. “So, what are you doing now?”

He slings his knapsack over his shoulder and sighs. “Going home to write a thousand words on experimental theater, I guess.”

“Well, you could come to my place to write your paper. I could pick your brain, so I don’t come off sounding like an idiot.”

He thinks about it for a few seconds. Judging by his expression, he’s weighing whether or not to sell one of his kidneys.

“Jeez, Holt, I’m not asking you to get married. I just thought you could help me out.”

“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “But you owe me snacks.”

“I can do that.” Apart from the preprepared meals filling my freezer, the only food I own is snacks. My mother would be so ashamed.

We detour to the library and I grab a few books that might be useful. Then we make our way back to my apartment.

I walk into my bedroom and dump my bag on the bed before I turn to see him hovering in the doorway.

“What the hell?” I say and laugh. “Are you like one of those vampires on TV? You need to be invited in before you can enter?”

He shakes his head and walks into the room. “No, it’s just weird to be in here when you’re not either vomiting or passed out.”

“I have ‘vomiting and passing out’ on the schedule for nine o’clock. Stick around. Should be fun.”

I’m about to unpack my books when my phone rings. I fish it out of my pocket to see my mom’s number.

“Be back in a second.”

I head out to the living room, because I know why she’s calling.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Sweetheart! Happy birthday!”

I put my hand over the speaker and look over my shoulder.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Oh, sweetie, I wish we could be with you. Are you having fun? What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh, not much. Studying.”

Holt pokes his head out of my bedroom and says, “Taylor, where are the library books? I’ll start on the research.”

My mother’s talking, but I cover the phone and whisper, “In my bag, on the bed.”

He nods and disappears.

Mom stops. “Who was that?”

“Just a boy from my class. We’re studying together.”

There’s a beat of silence before she says, “You’re alone with a boy in your apartment?”

Oh, Lord. Here we go.

“Mom, it’s not what you think. We’re working.”

Just then Holt yells, “Jesus, Taylor, your bed is fucking uncomfortable! How the hell do you sleep on this thing? Or is that the point? You don’t want guys trying to snuggle when you’re done with them?”

I cringe, and my mother gasps.

“Mom—”

“Cassie! I raised you better than to jump into bed with the first boy you meet.”

“We’re just friends.” Sort of. “It’s not like that. Really.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Hurry up, Taylor! I think your bed has put my back out. I can’t get up!”

I’m going to kill him!

My mother launches into a rant about how many rapes occur on college campuses, and how irresponsible I’m being, and crows that this is what happens when she’s not around to supervise me. Usually I’d just let her get it out of her system to keep the peace, but I have a tiny little Holt on my shoulder, urging me to stand up for myself.

“Mom, just stop. Whether or not I have a man here is none of your business. I’m an adult now, and I don’t need your approval for my every decision. Now, I love you, but I have a very good-looking man in my bed and I have to go.”

She’s silent for a few seconds, and I’m terrified I’ve given her a heart attack.

“Mom?”

There’s more silence. I picture my mother lying glassy-eyed in her living room, the phone still clutched in her hand.

“Mom?!”

“How good looking?” she finally asks.

I sigh. “You have no idea.”

She laughs. It’s fake, but at least she’s trying.

“Be careful of the good-looking ones, sweetie,” she says. “They’ll break your heart.”

“Mom, Dad’s good looking.”

She pauses. “Yes, well, your father sends his love. He’ll call you later tonight when he gets home from work.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I get a pang of homesickness. Despite bitching about them, I really miss my parents.

I say good-bye and feel a kernel of pride for speaking my mind. I’ve never stood up to my mother before, and I got through it without crying or killing her. Maybe Holt is onto something after all.

I smile as I walk back into the bedroom to find him sitting on the edge of my bed, bent over a book, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Wow, that looks like a thrilling read,” I say.

He jumps up in surprise. “Taylor … I didn’t mean to. It was in your bag. One of the other books had pushed it open, and I saw my name and I…”

A wave of sickening horror washes over me as I realize what’s in his hand.

I swallow embarrassment and nausea. My face blazes.

“How much did you read?” I whisper, my voice hoarse with shame.

“Enough.”

“Everything I wrote today?”

“Yes.” He pauses. “It’s your birthday?”

I’m going to be sick. He’s read it all. Me ranting about my virginity. How horny I am. How much I want him and his award-winning penis.

All of it.

“Cassie…”

“Holt, if you say ‘happy birthday’ to me right now, I’m going to destroy you.”

I cover my face and refuse to cry, but he can’t be here anymore. I can’t be near him. Ever again. Maybe longer.

“Goddammit, Taylor…” he says. “What you wrote about me? I can’t know that. I seriously fucking can’t—”

“Get out.”

I hear him exhale, but I can’t look at him.

“Cassie—”

“Get. The Hell. Out. Now.”