Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

I really do need to climb out of bed…

Yawn again, mind drifting sleepily.

You don’t have a crush on Roman, you don’t.

He’s the last thing I think about as I fall asleep.

6

LILLY

I don’t usually partake in the food in the student union, but today, for some reason, I’m too lazy to hoof it all the way to the athletic building. The meals are completely different there, way more diverse and definitely more delicious.

Shrimp. A salad bar spread fit for a king.

Pasta. Soup. Fresh vegetables and proteins.

Grabbing a pre-packaged Froot Loop marshmallow bar and a banana, I weave through the small crowd to find an empty table, seating myself so I face the large, panoramic view of the quad. I can see everything outside from this spot, watching aimlessly as I peel back the layer of my midday snack.

I hate bananas.

Don’t know why I’m bothering other than it’s quick and easy.

Chewing, my eyes never leave the yard, students from various backgrounds going about their business—some speed walking, some strolling, a few joggers. One dude on a vintage ten-speed bike. I watch as sorority girls huddle in a group while nearby, three guys in long dusters appear to be acting out a scene from Dungeons and Dragons.

After I’m done with my banana, I tear open the package on the Froot Loop and marshmallow cereal bar, sinking my teeth into its ooey-gooey goodness, chewing thoughtfully as I look out the window. A few people walking by I recognize, but that’s nothing new—as a member of the cheerleading squad, I get introduced to a lot of people during the school year.

It’s a miracle that I’m being left alone right now, seated in the center of the student union where students typically come to socialize. It’s loud and definitely not somewhere you’d want to be if you were trying to study or do homework. The library is much better suited for that, and I haven’t set foot in the library in a very, very long time.

I nibble the corner of the cereal bar, marveling at its overly sugary sweetness. I’m thinking to myself, Self, you should make these one night. How hard could this be?

Not sure who would eat them in my house; both Kaylee and I tend not to eat a bunch of sugary sweets. Perhaps a houseguest?

You are swearing off men, remember? You won’t be having any houseguests, and they won’t be eating your sugary sweetness.

Ha!

Pervert.

My gaze wanders, settling on the science building in the near distance, its double doors at the top of a set of concrete steps, not many students flowing in and out.

I contemplate what must go on inside that building, having never set foot inside, never having the need to. I tested out of science and didn’t need any of those classes to fulfill core curriculum requirements. THANK FREAKING GOODNESS.

The science building is one of the most outdated buildings on campus, although I heard through the grapevine the university has plans to build an entirely new one with a five-million-dollar budget.

Is Roman in there now? Hunched over some beaker and experimental equipment, lighting things on fire? Or would he be in the math building crunching out equations to solve the world’s problems? Why am I even thinking about him right now?

It makes no sense.

For the last week I’ve been consumed with Kyle and the betrayal I felt after finding out he was cheating on me, the feelings so overwhelming I assumed there would be no getting over them.

It’s not like I was in love with him, but something about seeing his faithlessness with my own eyes is going to leave a mark on my soul forever. I certainly learned not to put my happiness in someone else’s hands—and I learned it the hard way.

It was so cute the way Roman fed me in the kitchen at Eliza’s house the other night, fussing over me to make sure I ate. To make sure I had enough to eat before I left the house. It was really nice of him to invite me along to his parents’ house in the first place, a stranger he’s only just met.

What a kind person.

I can’t believe we met all those years ago and lost touch.

What did you expect, Lilly? It’s not as if you move in the same crowds. The last place Roman wants to be is at a crowded party with a bunch of superficial snobs.

“Hey.”

A hand touches my shoulder and I jump a mile high, gasping like a freak. “Oh jeezuz!”

“Sorry, I said your name twice.” It’s Rome, and he’s lumbering on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight between the two, appearing mighty uncomfortable. Regretful.

Probably wishing he hadn’t approached me. Ugh.

“I am so sorry, I was thinking and didn’t hear you.” Thinking about you. “Want to sit?”

Stuffing the cereal treat in my mouth and using my teeth to hold it, I immediately begin clearing room for him at my table, removing both my backpack and banana peel.