Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

NYU is much more prestigious, a little voice whispers.

She frowns. “You say you didn’t go to medical school, but you could have if you’d wanted to, but you chose what you love. You always stand up for what you believe in. You’re . . . brave.”

No, I’m not. I think about my lingerie.

“And I know about your lingerie.”

My eyes fly up to hers. “Preston. Asshole. You better keep your trap shut.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Of course I won’t tell.”

“Good. ’Cause I might have to pull all that pretty blonde hair out.”

I might be serious.

She smirks. “There it is. Fire. And here’s the thing; if you’d really cared about Preston, you would have told Mama the truth, and you would have confronted me months ago! Do you know how many times I waited for you to snap at Sunday lunch? But you never did. Because you didn’t really love him.”

“And you do?”

She nods. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something there. I tried to ignore it, but he kept texting me, and I didn’t . . . know how to handle it.”

Instant attraction—at my own house. It stings.

She must read my face. I can’t hide anything. “It wasn’t about taking what was yours, Elena. I hate that he and I happened like that. I do, so much. It’s going to haunt me forever. If you hadn’t sent that text to us, I never would have dated him, you know. I would have walked away.”

Maybe. But he and I were already ruined after that kiss.

“I found a hot one, Elena!” It’s Aunt Clara, who’s been hovering near us, yet she’s managed to grab a romance book.

I straighten up from the desk as she approaches, waving it in the air. “I’ll take it. Just read a hot scene. Whew.” She fans herself, eyes on mine. You okay? they ask.

I don’t know. A sister’s betrayal is hard. And it wasn’t even needed. Preston should have broken up with me first. They did things in the wrong freaking order.

Life is messy, love especially. I hear Nana in my head, but I’m not sure my pride is ready to listen. It still hurts that I trusted both of them.

Preston approaches the desk, probably seeing that we’re winding down our conversation. He gives me a once-over, lingering for half a second on my shirt, and I bristle. It does have little hearts all over it and is quite cute with the red velvet collar, but he better keep his eyes off my breasts.

He drops his gaze immediately and takes Giselle’s hand, lacing it with his.

“Everything good?” he asks us.

I smirk, recalling his full set of pajamas, average build, and mediocre penis size. His inability to find my clit!

“Did you ask her about . . . you know . . . ,” Preston says to Giselle, giving her a nudge.

“What?” I say.

Giselle inhales a deep breath, her eyes regretful as she flicks her gaze at Preston. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I do,” he mutters. “It’s perfect.”

Aunt Clara slams her book down on the counter. “Y’all might as well spit it out. We ain’t got all day. I have hair to cut.”

Giselle closes her eyes.

I frown at Preston. “Ask me what?”

He frowns back. “Your mama suggested we might have the engagement party at your house. It’s the biggest house in town, and the community center is booked, and the church has renovations, although we’d want alcohol there, so that’s really not an option. I have a huge family in Oxford, and Giselle has her friends from Memphis, and well, I think your house would be perfect.”

He is such a dick!

I glance at Giselle, and her face has reddened. She says, “You know how Mama is. Once she gets an idea—”

“Yeah, I know.” I can’t identify what emotion ripples through me, but I power through it. I put on a smile. “My house is perfect! Let’s do it!”

Giselle blinks, and Preston tosses an arm around her. “See. It’s fine. Told you. Elena is the best.”

The best? Ha.

Giselle waffles; I can tell by the way she’s wringing her hands, her gaze trying to hold mine.

I stare down at the books on the desk instead.

And they mumble a few more words, apologizing for something, but I’m barely listening, my head racing. A party. I’ll need to get the shrubs trimmed, have the rugs and curtains cleaned . . .

Aunt Clara whisks them out the door, and Topher is next to me, arm around my shoulders.

“You heard?” I saw him darting by periodically.

He nods, face grim as he watches them get in the Lexus and drive away. He gives me a squeeze. “You know you don’t have to host a party for them, Elena. Not really. They could do it in Nashville somewhere.”

“No, I do. I really do. I have the prettiest house in town, and it’s a sister’s duty to help. She did spend time there. It has special memories. Daisy is her hometown.”