Sweet Rome

I spotted her ahead of me. The blond waitress was standing at the bar, watching me run with a bitter smile on her face. Stupid bitch, she’d done all that on purpose, and it’d worked.

Reaching out, I grabbed Molly’s arm, only to have her wrench it back, her golden eyes furious and filled with hurt. Fuck, it was the first time I’d earned that look from her, and I completely panicked. She looked… resolved… like her mind was made up on something.

No! She couldn’t…

Beyond frustrated, I took her arm, dragged her with me like some f**king caveman, and locked us both in a dusty old closet.

Molly was panting, her fists clenched in anger. She didn’t look like she was in the mood to be placated, so I just spat it out, “I f**ked her once. Last year. There was nothing more to it. You don’t need to be upset by it, and you certainly don’t need to f**kin’ run away.”

By the way she froze, nose turning up in disgust, I realized I’d f**ked up… again. “Well, excuse me if I don’t enjoy your exploits flaunting their slutty selves in front of my face!”

I could feel myself getting madder. How the f**k was that my fault? I’d tried to brush her off; Molly had seen that. How could I help it if she wouldn’t take no for an answer?

Closing in, watching Molly freeze in anticipation, I shouted, “You want to know all about my sexual past, all the sordid details? Fine! I’ve f**ked a lot of girls, in many different ways, in many different places. They’d throw themselves my way and I’d give them what they wanted, and they’d f**kin’ love it.” I was pumped with too much adrenalin and knew I was being an ass, but when Mol’s eyes blazed and she smacked me across the face, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

She’d f**king hit me! Molly, my timid little Mol, had cracked me right across the f**king face. Guess I’d found her breaking point.

“Did that feel good? Have you got it out of your system now?” I said coldly.

Molly instantly cried out, covering her mouth with shaky hands as tears fell down her cheeks. She was disgusted with herself. I could see that much.

Seeing her so sad had me backing away to the other wall, croaking, “They f**ked Bullet. They only ever f**ked Bullet…”

Sniffing and wiping frantically at her eyes, she whispered, “Nice, Rome. Real nice. Is that what you’ll do to me? Let me f**k the great Bullet Prince, give me what I want, and move on?”

God! What else did I have to do to prove she was different? We’d done plenty in bed but hadn’t gone all the way. I respected her and didn’t want her to feel used. I could see the conflict on her face, that look urging me to power forward and say, “Not at all, Shakespeare, but hear this. I’m going to f**k you, but I’m also going to make love to you. I’m going to own every goddamn piece of your soul, and I’m never going to let you go. You’re going to scream my name over and over until it’s permanently lodged in your friggin’ throat. You’re not going to be just a f**k to me, Mol—you’re going to be my f**kin’ salvation!”

She already was. She was making my life better day by day. How could she not know that?

Molly couldn’t meet my eyes, and the way she’d closed herself off was making me nervous as all hell. “Baby,” I said almost inaudibly as she closed her eyes in anguish. “You’ll make love to me—Romeo—not some pathetic f**king football alter ego. You’ll get the real me, all of me, forever and ever. Is that clear enough for you?” She still didn’t say anything, and a foreboding lump blocked my throat.

Pressing her forehead to mine, I tried to keep my voice low and calm. “Christ, Mol! I’ve never done this before. If I’d known you were out there waiting for me, I wouldn’t have f**ked all those chicks. But I can’t take it back.”

She sagged against my chest and looked up, completely defeated, running a finger down my cheek. “It’s all too much, isn’t it? Your family obviously hates me, Shelly won’t back off, you turn on anyone who even looks at me, and these… girls you’ve had in the past seem not to be able to let go. I have my own issues, Rome—you know this—and piled with yours… it’s just too much. How can we possibly work under all this stress?”

No, no, no, no…

“Don’t. Don’t do that!” I begged her in panic.

“Do what?” she said, unfeeling, numb even, as she focused on the floor, dejected, unable to even meet my eyes.

“Write us off. Don’t run away when it gets tough.” I needed her to look at me, dammit, so I forced her head up, gripping her chin. “You fight your past problems. I’ll learn to control my anger. We fight back against my family. We ignore all the others. We get through this! Don’t you dare quit on me now, Shakespeare. Don’t you f**kin’ dare!”