Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

“Hey, dude,” I say. “Where’s your mama?” I walk into the spacious kitchen, setting the food down on her island. Romeo sits at the doorway, watching me.

“Want some garlic bread, little piggy?” I pull out one of the garlic knots and dangle it in my fingers.

His snout twitches.

“No?” I take a big bite. “So good, mmm.”

He shuffles, dipping his head as he gets up off his haunches and walks slowly to me, eyes on the bread.

“You can have this, right?” I say, bending down to scratch his head.

Give me, give me, his brown eyes say.

I hold it close to his mouth, a little unsure about those teeth. He snatches it faster than I thought he would, and I jerk and fall back on my butt. He gives me a condescending stare—Amateur—and runs back to the den.

Laughter comes, and I look over at Elena, who’s come in, hair wet, wearing long pajama pants with unicorns on them and a tank top. “Are you scared of Romeo?”

“No! He just startled me. His teeth nipped me.”

“You trying to bribe him with bread?”

I stand up, scoffing. “No.”

She wanders over to the pizza, takes out a slice from the supreme, and takes a big bite and chews. “God, this is so good.” She sways over to the cabinet and pulls out plates, grabs napkins and sodas from the fridge. I watch her, the way she moves, hips swishing, completely at ease as she arranges our food. She takes a seat on a stool and pats the one next to her. “Come on; let’s eat.” Her eyes drop. “Thank you for today, by the way. You guys did everything so fast. Saved me so much time.”

Nerves ramp up as I take her in, not wanting to end our camaraderie. I need to tell her about Sophia.

Shit. I don’t want to.

I take a slice and eat instead, my head weird, messed up.

How will Elena feel about me seeing Sophia? Is she going to freak out?

What are we?

Do I really need to tell her?

Somebody will tell her . . .

Damn, it’s been such a good day.

Do I have to go and ruin it?

She laughs, her eyes gleaming over at me.

“What?” I say.

She takes a drink from a Sun Drop. “Are you even aware that you’re humming to Taylor Swift? I love this song.”

I grin, relaxing. For a minute there, I thought she might see how torn I am.

I cock my head. “‘You Belong with Me’?”

“Damn. You even know the name of it.” She giggles. “Hmm, high school song about the girl who wants the guy who’s dating the cheerleader.”

“I was just thinking about what you were like in high school.”

“Badass nerd.”

“Knew it. You wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”

“Oh, I would have looked all right.” She sends me a little grin. “Sing it for me.”

I roll my eyes. “Can’t a man eat in peace? And why do you want me to? My voice is terrible.”

“Sing it! Sing it!” She pounds her fists on the counter.

“Dammit, woman. No. Your knees were a special case. How are they?”

“Fine. Please, Jack, pretty please. I promise to do whatever you want later . . .” Her eyes glint, a wicked gleam there—and I’m lost.

I set my pizza down and pick up the chorus, singing along with Taylor as she goes to the verse about the guy in his faded jeans and how the girl wants him even though he’s with the wrong girl, when she’s the one who understands him. She knows his favorite songs and his dreams and wants him to see her.

Elena watches me avidly, her chest still, as I wrap up the song. I should feel like a total idiot. But I don’t.

It’s her, and shit . . .

She gets me.

I can hum Taylor Swift all day long, and she might be the only person who knows it.

There are a few moments of silence when I finish, the stereo bleeding into another song.

She’s staring at me . . . like . . . like . . .

I don’t want to hurt her.

“Elena, I have to tell you something.”

She pauses, frowning at my short tone as she picks up another piece of pizza. “Sounds serious.”

“I’m going to meet with Sophia soon.”

Her eyes flicker, her face carefully blank. “You’re still talking to her?”

“No. I never want to see her again, but she wants to meet. She says that she’ll sign a document that she’ll never talk about me again. That’s the only reason I’m going. She wanted me to go to this gala thing, but I sent Aiden, and he was supposed to—forget that. It’s me she wants.”

“Ah. Is that why you turned down lunch tomorrow?” She pats her mouth with a napkin and stands.

I pause, grimacing. No, that was just . . . I don’t know . . . shit . . . too much, too soon.