Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(42)
Author: Leisa Rayven

“Can I think about it?” I say, and he takes my hand.

“Of course. Personally, I hope you work it out. You’re both obviously miserable without each other, and it’s depressing to watch. Him, in particular.”

He nods toward Holt, who’s now pacing slowly, watching his feet in between glancing at us.

“I thought the story was that he broke your heart,” Marco whispers. “From where I’m standing, it seems the other way around.”

I quash the nervous giggle that bubbles in my throat. “I assure you, I was the breakee, not the breaker. I just don’t know if…”

He raises his eyebrows. “If what?”

I sigh. “If there’s too much damage. If we can ever be fixed.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss my cheek. “Dear Cassandra, sometimes it’s not about trying to fix something that’s broken. Sometimes it’s about starting again and building something new. Something better.” He looks over at Holt, who’s stopped pacing and is staring at us. “It seems like the old foundation is still there. Use it.”

He leaves and pats Holt on the shoulder as he passes. “I hope to see you on Monday, Mr. Holt.”

Ethan frowns before looking back at me. “Ready to go?”

I nod, and we head out.

We walk in silence as we climb the stairs that lead to the foyer. He holds the door for me, and we step out into the street.

“Marco wants to replace me, doesn’t he?” he says as warm fingers settle in the small of my back, guiding me closer to him as we cross the street.

“He doesn’t want to, but unless we get it together, he will.”

As we reach the opposite sidewalk, he stops me. “Is that what you want?”

I rub my eyes so I don’t have to look at him. “I don’t know. Marco told me you campaigned to be in the show. I thought this whole thing was fate throwing us back together, but it’s not. Maybe this play is a bad idea.”

For a moment, his composure falters before steely determination slides into place. “I don’t want to screw this opportunity for you, Cassie. If you want me to quit, I’ll quit. But if you’re only doing it to avoid dealing with me, that’s not going to work, because I came back to New York for you. The show was just a bonus.”

“Ethan…”

“I know I’ve been an idiot in the past, but this? Being with you again? It’s all I’ve wanted for so long I can’t even comprehend it not working.”

“But it’s not working. That’s the problem.”

“It will. I’m going to prove I’ve changed. Then you’re going to fall back in love with me, and we’ll get the happy ending we should have had the first time around.”

All of the air leaves my lungs. “That’s your plan? God, Ethan! What the hell?”

“Don’t do that,” he says, his expression dead serious. “Don’t second-guess us before we’ve even tried.”

“I’m not second-guessing. I’m saying what you’re hoping for is impossible. Why would you have such unrealistic expectations about us? After all this time?”

He sighs, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer but still firm. “You keep your expectations low if that’s what you need to do to protect yourself, but don’t tell me to lower mine. It’s not going to happen. If they’re too high, the only person who’s going to get hurt is me.”

“Ethan, no…”

He takes my hand and brushes his thumb across my skin. Such a sweet, simple gesture, but I feel it everywhere.

“Look, Cassie, I get it,” he says. “I understand how you’re feeling, because I used to feel it, too. It’s easier to expect nothing, because then nothing can be taken away from you. But it doesn’t work like that. I tried to convince myself I wanted nothing from you and ended up losing everything.”

He looks into my eyes, and I think Marco is right. As much as he broke my heart, I broke his as well.

“I don’t want nothing anymore. If you kick me from the play, I’ll understand, but I’m not going to let you shut me out of your life without a fight. Are we clear?”

I can see why Marco caved. His passion is very persuasive.

He wants to fight for us? That makes a nice change.

Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
Diary of Cassandra Taylor

Dear Diary,

It’s the morning after “O” day—a day that will forever linger in my memory with thigh-clenching fondness.

I can’t even put into words the feelings Holt brought out in me.

It can’t be natural for one man to be so infuriatingly sexy. Maybe he’s made a pact with the devil. See, that I could understand.

He’s sold his soul to Lucifer in return for sexual powers over frustrated virgins.

It would explain a lot.

It seems Olivia feels the same. She was pretty pissed with him.

I have to wonder about their story. Or perhaps it’s best I take the old head-in-the-sand approach to dealing with intense, brooding bad boys. What I don’t know can’t hurt me, right?

Right?

As I approach the theater, Holt’s there, waiting. I cringe when I realize how excited I am to see him.

Jeez, Cassie. Be cool. Don’t let him work his devil powers on you.

Oh, God. Too late. Look at him.

Dark jeans. Black V-neck tee tucked haphazardly into his waistband. Vintage belt buckle I want to unclasp with my teeth.

He looks up as I approach. He has two cardboard cups in his hands. I assume one’s for me, although surely he’s not offering me a Dickachino today. Not after his expert dry-humpage.

Perhaps Starbucks makes an Orgasmalatte.

As he watches me, he stands a little taller. His chest rises and falls in a deep sigh.

Oh, yeah. He totally wants to orgasm me. He wants to orgasm the hell outta me.

Maybe he’ll use his fingers this time.

Please, God, let him use his hot-assed fingers.

I smile at him. He swallows but doesn’t smile back.

Alarm bells go off in my head.

“Hey,” I say, trying to be casual.

“Hi.” He’s no better at casual than I am.

He’s nervous. Sweating a little. He hands me a cup, and I take it. I suspect it’s a Dickachino after all.

He puts his own cup down on the bench beside him and straightens up. His brows furrow as he says, “Listen, Taylor, about yesterday…”

Dammit, Holt. Don’t say it.

“I really shouldn’t have done … you know … that. To you.”