Page 34 of Romeo vs Romeo

“Pretty boy, but doesn’t know I live for a good threat,” Roman said, laughing.

I rolled him onto his back and grabbed his wrists, quickly trapping them in one hand above his head. He might be defined like Adonis, but my strength was incomparably superior. “You’re going to regret this,” I warned him darkly, fingers of my free hand feathering along his rib cage.

Roman thrashed and laughed in panic as my tickles intensified. I tormented him until his hips were bouncing off the mattress, and he laughed so hard that he couldn’t breathe, let alone beg me to stop. But when I stopped, his sexy chest expanded and fell with heated breaths, and he looked into my eyes.

We kissed again, and I wondered if he’d ever fuck me. I wondered if I would like it. Then, belatedly, I wondered if he would like it. Until now, it hadn’t crossed my mind that he might not. Did gay men assume roles of men and women exclusively? Was that a messed-up idea? It sure sounded like it could be, so I decided not to ever voice it until I knew more.

We made out softly until my eyes became grainy, and I realized I needed to leave. That, together with the thought of returning to my parents’ penthouse, was the hardest thing of all.

“I wish I could stay with you,” I whispered.

“You could,” Roman said, half-hopefully.

We both knew I couldn’t.

So I kissed him goodbye and faced the dreadful prospect of sleeping alone in my room, stared down by a wooden carving of Christ dying on the cross for the sins I had committed.At least you’re making it worth his while. The wicked thought crossed my mind, and I nearly chuckled.

As I left Hudson Burrow behind and headed for the subway, Roman’s scents remained on me. His sweat had mingled with mine, and his cum lingered on my tongue. I adored it.

And I was coming back for more. More and more and more, so long as he would lie on his bed for me, so long as he would spread his legs and drag his hands up his thighs in the heat of passion, and so long as he looked at me like I was someone who mattered to him, and not just a constant reminder of disappointments that happen when life doesn’t go your way.

Foolishly, I imagined returning to Roman forever.

CHAPTER 8

Hopeless Romeos

Everett

I wishedI had a photograph of Roman as he had been in the last moment before I had left his room six days ago. This entire week passed in a blur of expectation and only one incredibly distant glimpse of Roman at a moment when it was absolutely impossible for me to meet with him or even let him know I had spotted him.

Sunday was our family day. I couldn’t skip the mass, no matter how much the thought of stepping inside St. Augustine’s cathedral made my stomach turn. During the week, there was never a good moment for me to provide an excuse and be out. Mother arranged an unofficial church group meeting right in our apartment on Wednesday, inviting Joseph Burton and his sweet, quiet, unopinionated girlfriend, Anita Blakely. When she appeared, my breath nearly left my body. Anita Blakely was the pretty girl I had occasionally seen in church. She looked as beautiful up close as she had from the distance. And, like always, seeing her made me think of her twin brother. Alex, she said he was called. But now, after knowing Roman so well, Alex Blakely was nothing but an old, lingering bit of melancholy somewheredeep in me. I found that I could admire Anita’s beauty and Alex’s as well, without my brain supplying me with wild fantasies. If anything, seeing Anita made me think of Roman even more.

Annabeth, my former girlfriend in my final, desperate attempt to turn myself straight, was also present, despite my protests. “Darling, you parted on good terms, and people change. Do they not?” And that was that.

Yesterday, when I floated the idea of maybe going out, Mother was completely against it. She insisted she needed someone to accompany her to St. Augustine’s in the afternoon to oversee some of the volunteers sorting newly acquired items for the homeless. It was not something I wanted to cancel, even though I was growing desperate to see Roman. For all the cold shrugs I received from her in our daily life, my mother was not a bad person. She was there in person rather than sending her chauffeur or hiring an assistant.

When I left my room around three in the afternoon, dressed to go out, Mother and Father were sitting in the dining room. Father was in between some distracting calls, which I had overheard from my room.

I cleared my throat. “Hey,” I said quietly, proceeding to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of orange juice. “I was thinking…” My heart skipped a beat. Cold sweat covered my palms, and I hadn’t even begun the conversation. The handle of the cold pitcher felt like holding a steel handle of a dagger. “You were right. I’m going to go mad if I don’t start doing something soon.”

“It took you long enough,” Mother said. “Let’s hear it.” She made an impatient expression as if expecting me to announce I would be joining a circus.

It’s much worse than that, Mother, I thought, licking my dry lips. “I’d like an internship at our company.”

“Your father’s company should be glad to have you,” Mother said, possibly solely to correct me.

“I’m not sure about that,” I said, aiming for modesty in my tone as I poured myself a full glass of juice. I begged any god paying attention not to tremble and spill my juice. “But I can learn.” Some small part of me screamed against this. I knew I was on a path that would shatter my father’s plans. I knew that this was the full and true act of betrayal. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t.

Mother eyed me suspiciously. “Harold?” she said. “What do you say to this?”

“Hm? Oh. Sure.” He must have sensed the iciness in the air that followed his words for a few long heartbeats because he lifted his head and blinked confusedly. “I mean, of course, he can learn. This will all be his in good time, Lavinia. Why don’t you come with me on Monday to meet the Urban Development guys?”

A shudder rose from my stomach, and I fought to suppress it. There was no stopping your body’s reactions, so I fell back to concealing it instead. Clearing my throat, I nodded. “That sounds good. But…what would I do there?” I knew I was only asking this because that tiny part of me had hoped that Father would turn me down. I wouldn’t have to stab him in the back. Nobody couldn’t blame me if I tried and failed.

“Sit. Listen. Learn.” Father returned to the tablet in front of him.

“You heard your father,” Mother said.

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