Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

Impulsively, I wanted to know what his lips felt like, and I may have ruined the foundation we’ve laid.

Turning off the bathroom light, I head back down the hallway to Roman’s room. I find him flipping through the channels on his television when I walk in, fully dressed in pajamas. My eyes scan the room, noticing a pile of clothes—his jeans and what look like sweatpants and a hoodie—next to the closet door.

“Hey.” I feel self-conscious, shuffling into the room farther. There is a light on the bedside table glowing, but the room is dim, turned down for bed.

He glances up at me before his gaze flits back to the TV screen, his thumb pressing down on the remote.

“Hey.”

I have no idea what to do with myself; maybe coming here was a huge mistake. I would have been better off going home—I could have distanced myself from Roman instead of fumbling headfirst into the mistake I made tonight.

Kissing him.

Ugh, the look on his poor face.

He must hate me.

Should I sit or should I stand? Should I sit on the floor, or would that be ridiculous? I’ve already slept with him in bed, and I’ve been in the bed twice. He’s obviously expecting me to plop down beside him or he wouldn’t be on the far end…

Make a move, Lilly, you’re making things weird.

Before I sit down, I remove the robe and climb onto the bed in my borrowed pajamas, legs getting pelted by the cool air. There is no snuggle blanket anywhere, so I pull back the covers and climb underneath. The sheets are cool yet smooth, crisp white linen.

Bright.

I would bet Roman is the type of guy who washes his laundry on a regular basis, which is more than I can say for the rest of the male population on college campuses. He’s more mature than anyone I have met, male and female alike.

“Brr.” I shiver, my feet doing a little dance where no one can see them. “So cold.”

He smiles but doesn’t say anything, and my stomach falls.

I inhale a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Roman, I just want to…apologize for tonight.”

He puts down the remote control and turns to face me, his expression one of seriousness.

“You don’t have to apologize for feeling scared, Lilly.”

Scared? No. Not at all what I’m referring to.

I try again, wringing my hands under the covers. “I meant…I apologize for, um. Kissing you like that. I’m sorry if it made you feel weird—I shouldn’t have ambushed you.”

“I understand why you did it—I know it must provide a sense of security to have a new boyfriend to keep the old one away from you.”

“You think I wanted you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

The thought gives me pause as I stare at him, blinking rapidly.

The horror! He thought I wanted him to pretend to be my boyfriend?

Huh.

It didn’t cross my mind at the moment, but now that it has—I would be able to go out to party without having to deal with Kyle sniffing around my skirt if I had a new boyfriend.

“Isn’t that the reason you kissed me?”

No. That’s not the reason I kissed him, but I’m too embarrassed to admit it; far be it from me to change his mind.

I kissed Roman for a few reasons, but pretending he was my boyfriend? Not one of them.

I kissed him because I was curious.

I kissed him because I was feeling impulsive.

I kissed him because…I felt happy having him at my side.

I did not kiss him as part of some ploy.

“Honestly, Roman, I’m just really glad you were there tonight. I was so relieved when you showed up that my entire body relaxed. That whole situation was really messed up.”

That’s true enough.

It’s not a lie, not entirely.

I know it’s a copout telling him and giving him the impression I was using him, but somehow, telling him the truth in this moment? I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

I’ve never been great at hard conversations, and this one fits that description.

Call me a wuss if you must.

Making myself more comfortable in bed, I recline on the pillow and pull the covers up while he fusses with the television, finally settling on a popular show about a family that lives in a motel. It’s a series I’ve already seen twice but never get tired of.

Rome sets the remote on his bedside table and flicks off the light, settling in beside me, putting his hands behind his head and lacing his fingers together.

I wonder what’s going through his head right now. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I know the last thing guys like to hear is What are you thinking about right now? Cliché on a Friday night?

No thanks.

My eyes drift closed, and somewhere in the house I hear the sound of other voices; Eliza and Jack must be home already. Sounds like they’re rifling through the fridge for something to eat, laughing and definitely flirting.