Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(59)
Author: Leisa Rayven

We’re on the third song by the time Tristan appears in front of us, freshly showered and ready to go out.

He takes in the scene before him and frowns. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you two were meditating. Although I’m not sure why you’d be meditating to sex music.”

Holt squirms a little.

“Cass, are you sure you don’t want to come out with me?” Tris asks. “It’s bubble night at Neon. You could even bring tall, dark, and brooding here. Looks like he could use some bubbles.”

“No, thanks,” I say with a sigh. “I’m kind of enjoying my meditation. You should be proud.”

Tristan’s mouth presses into a thin line as he turns to Holt. “So that’s how this is going to work? You just waltz back into her life and get her to do something I usually have to bribe her with chocolate to do?”

Holt blinks at him lazily. “What can a say, man? I don’t need to use chocolate, ’cause I’m just naturally sweet.”

Tristan looks at me in confusion, like he’s struggling with either really liking Holt or really hating him.

Welcome to my world.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Tristan says as he frowns at Holt once more. “But Cassie? Just remember what we spoke about. I don’t want to arrive home and have to cleanse your aura of douche vibes.”

Ethan tenses. “I’ve worked very hard to rid myself of ‘douche vibes,’ but if by chance some still exist, I promise not to infect Cassie with them.”

“You do that,” Tristan mumbles as he heads down the hallway to grab his jacket. “See ya, Cass.”

“Bye.”

The door opens and closes, and Holt and I sink further into the couch.

“Call me crazy,” Holt says as he turns to me, “but I think Tristan really likes me.”

“Well, that’s one theory.”

“What the other one?” he asks.

“That he wants to tear off your head, poke out your eyeballs, and use your skull as a bowling ball.”

“Oh, he bowls?” he deadpans.

“Occasionally. On disco night.”

He smiles—one of those beautiful, lights-up-his-whole-face smiles. When he notices me staring, his smile fades into a more wistful expression.

“Man, I’ve missed this. I never realized how much it hurt to not be with you until I saw you again, and the pain went away.”

My smile falters. The wine is making his tongue loose and his eyes intense, and I’m not drunk enough to hear him say stuff like that.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, almost whispering.

“Ethan…”

“Not the bastard me,” he says. “The me who was good to you. Made you laugh. Who … loved you.”

“Unfortunately, he was locked inside the bastard you,” I say, glancing up at him. “I could never have one without the other.”

“You can,” he says. “I promise, you can.”

“It’s going to take me a while to believe it.”

“I get that. I never thought making things right with you would be easy, but I know it will be worth it.”

“What if it’s not?” I say, unable to bear him thinking we’re just going to walk off into the sunset. “What if, after all of this time, you’re just fooling yourself into thinking we can rekindle something that’s been over for a long time?”

His eyes cloud over, and the familiar pull I feel for him thickens the air between us.

“Cassie,” he whispers as he leans forward, so close I can smell the sweet scent of wine on his breath. “We’ve never been over. You know it as well as I do. Even when I was halfway around the world and you hated my guts, we weren’t over. You can feel it between us now. And the closer we are, the stronger it gets. And that’s what scares you.”

He looks at my lips, and it takes every ounce of my dwindling self-preservation to turn away.

“If you can tell me you don’t feel it,” he says quietly, “then I’ll back off. But I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, can you?”

I only hesitate for a moment before saying, “I don’t feel it.” The line falls flat.

He touches my fingers, grazing warm fingertips over the back of my hand until he reaches my wrist. He wraps his hand around the thin bones and squeezes gently.

“You can say what you like, but your pulse doesn’t lie. It’s pounding. I’m doing that to you.”

“How do you know it’s attraction and not fear?”

“I’m certain it’s a bit of both. But the attraction is definitely there.”

I pull my hand away and drain the rest of my glass. I’ve drunk too much. So has he. Lack of inhibition isn’t going to help anything at this point.

I yawn, and stand. “Well, it’s getting late.”

He nods and smiles. He can read me like a book. “Yeah, I’d better get going.”

When we reach the door, he turns to me, one hand on the handle.

“Cassie,” he says hesitantly as he leans on the doorframe. “Before I go, I just need to know one thing.”

“What?”

He leans forward, his voice low. “You and Tristan weren’t exactly whispering in the kitchen. I heard him say you wouldn’t be able to resist me if I asked you to sleep with me. Is that true?”

I take in his tall frame filling my doorway, the long line of his throat leading up to his remarkable, emotional face. I remember how his body feels under my hands, the noises he makes when I touch him. The incredible look he got on his face every time his body was joined with mine.

“Ethan…”

“Wait,” he says and shakes his head. “Don’t answer that. Because if you told me that you wanted me … well…” He looks down at me, and I can tell how much he wants to touch me; how his fingers flex and clench at his sides, how his breathing gets a little rough. “There wouldn’t be enough self-restraint in the world.”

Thankfully, before either of us does anything stupid, he takes a step back. “Good night, Cassie. For both our sakes, shut the door. Now.”

I close the door in his face.

Even through the wood, I can hear his sigh of relief.

Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
Romeo and Juliet Opening Night Party

The music is too loud. It vibrates through my skull and makes my eyeballs hurt.

The living room is packed with people swaying and laughing. Some of them are actually attempting to talk to each other over the noise that’s trying to pass itself off as music.