Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

“In private?”

Mom raises her eyebrows and looks down at my brother. Notices for the first time that he’s wearing sneakers and pushes his legs off my bed. “Hey, get out of here with your shoes on, mister.”

Alex grumbles again but bends to untie his shoes, kicks them off, and trudges out to the hallway.

“Close the door behind you,” Mom calls.

Alex returns to shut the door a bit harder than necessary.

Mom gives me her full attention, and I take a seat across from her on my desk chair, swiveling it away from the window to face her. This conversation is more difficult to start than I thought it would be, but if I don’t have it, it will linger in my mind and fester.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you until you finally got home.” Mom looks rather emotional. “I could just squish you right now I missed you so much.”

“Please don’t.” I laugh.

“How was the flight? We haven’t actually had a chance to talk alone since you’ve been back, and I apologize for that. I’ve been so caught up with this fundraising event for the women’s club—we’re raising awareness for fostering—that I haven’t had time to spend with you. Tell me what’s been going on.”

This is just going to make what I’m about to say that much worse considering I’m about to drop the bomb on her about potentially moving out and onto campus.

“I thought you’d have a British accent.”

She really is funny. “We’ve spoken every week for four months—you knew I didn’t pick up an accent.”

Mom picks at some lint on her jeans. “Fine. I was hoping you would. Like Madonna when she lived in London.”

“Who?”

She groans and runs a hand down her face. “Don’t make me feel old.”

I pick up a pencil on my desk and begin tapping it nervously against the wooden top, knee bouncing below it.

“So I’ve been thinking about my living arrangement the past few days.”

This has Mom’s attention and she sits up straighter, folding her hands in her lap. She nods.

“And you know I love living here—I’ve never lived anywhere else—but being on my own the last few months was awesome, and now that I’m back, I think it’s probably time for me to find my own place. Or at least find some roommates.” I rotate in the chair and look out the window for a moment, down at the neighbor’s house and into their backyard where a big, blue swimming pool sits. “It’s going to be practically impossible to find someone who still needs a roommate, but I think I should look.”

Mom doesn’t say much for the next several seconds, but I can practically hear her thinking. “I can understand why you feel the need to…” Her voice trails off. “Spread your wings.”

I spin back around. “I mean, Mom—Alex busts in here whenever he pleases and makes himself at home. He’s been using this room as a hangout spot and thinks he still can. I have no privacy whatsoever.”

I do, but that’s not the point—we have a ‘No Locked Doors’ policy in this house, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. Alex doesn’t give a shit that I don’t want him in this room; he’s used to coming in here, and he’s going to continue coming in here.

He’s spoiled and young and does what he wants.

The point is, there are four other people living here and every one of them is in my business, including my eighty-three-year-old great aunt, who may live downstairs but always seems to be lingering.

Kind of like a ghost.

Almost as if she’s here to do my late grandmother’s bidding, bossing us around the way Nan did when she’d come by (and she did so often), outlandishly taking over the whole household.

And did I mention Aunt Myrtle is online dating?

Yeah.

“How do you plan on finding an apartment?”

We both know I haven’t made a decent number of new friends—not in the three years I’ve been at school, too wrapped up in my course work for socializing.

“I met someone in England who has a contact here—coincidentally.”

Mom doesn’t seem convinced. “You went all the way across the ocean and found someone who knows someone who may have a room for you to rent in the same city you need a room to rent?” She furrows her brows. “How is that possible?”

“Give me a second to process what you said,” I joke with a smile. “Yeah, crazy right? I met a guy whose brother lives here. Goes to school here and has a house—all I have to do is reach out and cross my fingers. There’s no guarantee, but…”

Mom doesn’t look pleased. “You’re so helpful.”

“Mom, I’m twenty-one years old—I can’t live here for the rest of my life just so I can shuttle Aunt Myrtle around and feed Alex when you and Dad aren’t around.”