Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

“It must have been difficult for you to move out, huh?”

I can feel him nod beside me. “Yes. I felt a huge sense of obligation, but I knew it had to happen eventually, and there’s never a good time to make a big change—so I just had to jump in with both feet and do it.”

He’s brave. I know he had to stand up to his parents in order to move out; you can’t make a bold move like that without support—Roman is living in a house now, which requires money for rent and his share of utilities, plus food and furniture.

“Obviously my mother didn’t want me moving out—she’s become a little too dependent on me the past few years, counting on me to pick up slack as far as caring for my brother and now caring for Aunt Myrtle, who can be such a pain in the ass.”

He says this all with a humorous chuckle.

“I imagine you are really helpful. I wouldn’t want you to move out either.”

“I guess…but they can’t keep me young forever. I had to grow up eventually.”

So true. “Growing up sucks.”

“Adulting sucks.” Roman laughs.

I roll to my back and speak toward the ceiling. “Hey, who are you calling an adult?”

“Not us.”

As I sigh and yawn, my eyes slide closed. “Good night, Roman.” I move my hand across the comforter and feel around for his, fingers touching the flesh on his arm.

Wordlessly, he entwines his fingers in mine. “Good night, Lilly.”

9

ROMAN

There’s something that occasionally blows about being academically inclined, especially on a Friday night when the world is partying. And by the world I mean the small community of college students, the night young but abuzz with excitement that I am not participating in.

For the first time since I moved in with them, Jack and Eliza are actually going to a baseball party on Jock Row.

For the past few hours, they have been getting ready; first eating dinner, then showering, the blow dryer going on several times. Eliza has been in and out of the primary bedroom with different outfits, shouting down over the banister railing to her boyfriend about which blouse she should wear with what jeans.

I listen from my desk, pencil poised above graph paper. I’m working on a design for an engineering class—a concept car that will be used for a final paper. It will take me weeks to design, and I can’t afford any more time away from the project—I’ve already taken off a few days moving my things into this house. So tonight I’m staying in.

They both invited me several times, which was nice, but I just…can’t. I mean, I could; it’s been so long since I’ve been to a party, but to be honest, my social anxiety may be kicking in, too.

Eliza is laughing from the bedroom, and I hear Jack in the kitchen cracking open what’s most likely a soda—he loves Sprite—before he bounds back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Sticks his head in my open door. “Sure you don’t want to come, Rome?”

I nod, putting a smile on. “Thanks for the invitation, but…” I glance down at my work, at the papers spread over the small desk. “I shouldn’t. I’m behind on this work.”

He shakes his head. “You’re too serious, mate. Have a little fun.”

I do have fun—just not the same kind of fun. “I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

“You’re full of shite.” He laughs. “But that’s alright, we’ll let you off the hook this time.”

All of a sudden Jack gets jostled, a new figure appearing in the doorway that is not his girlfriend. It’s Lilly. Without an invitation, she enters my room and puts her hands on her hips.

My eyes cannot help but drink in the sight of her, long tan legs in a black skirt, tight red t-shirt. Strappy heels. She’s totally irresistible and way out of my league. And unfortunately, she’s staring me down.

“Why aren’t you dressed? You can’t wear that.”

What does she mean why am I not dressed? I’m sitting here in track pants and a hoodie, my Friday night uniform for comfort but not style.

Also, what is Lilly even doing here? She just shows up out of nowhere, unannounced, startling the shit out of me and catching me off guard? Is this my life now? Being ambushed by beautiful girls who just want to be friends?

“I’m not dressed because I’m not going out.” I tap the pencil against my desktop to illustrate my business. “I have shit to do.”

I immediately regret using the word shit and hope my statement didn’t come out sounding too harsh. I’m trying to be professional and serious so she doesn’t stand there and argue with me.

Too bad Lilly is stubborn. Her brows rise and a leg juts out.

“You’d rather do homework than come out with us?”