Page 6 of Pocketful of You

I couldn’t get to her.

The hauntingly honest lyrics of Selena Gomez’s songBack to Youlooped through my brain continuously. I knew there was a reason my brain insisted on this particular song.

Junior year.

The Winter Formal.

Romi was my brother’s girl that night but, for one song, one three-minute dance, she was mine.

At the time, I had felt like I had died and gone to heaven.

Maybe this time I really had.

I guess it made sense that dancing with Romi Dillon would be my version of heaven. After all, she'd been the only good part of my life when I was alive.

And just like that, every memory I had of Romi flooded my mind, replaying in vivid technicolor, and keeping me company in my darkest hour...

"Hey – I gotta kiss her," Danny Cortez goaded from his perch in the treehouse. It was Saturday evening and we were all sitting around, playing a game of spin the bottle. Unfortunately for me, the bottle Danny just spun had landed on Romi. "Sorry, Sketch," he added with a grin. "But it's the rules, dude."

He wasn’t sorry.

Not one damn bit.

I knew he looked at her the way I did. All of my friends did. Goddammit. Anger bubbled up inside of me, causing my flesh to grow hot and my palms to sweat.

"Put your lips on her and I'll throw you out of this tree," I warned, glowering at my football buddy as he shuffled closer to Romi. "I mean it. I ain't fucking around here."

"Language, Mr. Capaldi," my brother's dopey best friend teased from his perch next to Chris.

"Fuck off, Pres," I shot back, entirely uninterested in dealing with his motormouth. Besides, Quinton Presley touched her knee earlier. Her bare knee. That officially put him on my shit list.

"Uh, that's okay, Danny." Romi flushed bright pink and shifted away from him, eyes wide and full of embarrassment. "I'd rather skip."

"You ain't skipping," he huffed, leaning towards her. "Rules are rules, now pucker up, Dillon."

"And you sure as hell ain't kissing my girl." Pointing my finger at him, I said, "One more inch and you're a dead man, Cortez."

I didn’t care when all of our friends snickered and made whipped gestures. I was hella jealous and not afraid to admit it. Besides, it was pointless trying to hide my feelings. When it came to my heart and Romi Dillon, I was an open book. Hell, the only reason I had agreed to play this stupid game in the first place was because she was playing.

"Romi's your girl?" Stephie Gundersen demanded with a huff. "Since when?"

"Since forever," Chris chuckled, answering for me. "Ain't that right, bro?"

Damn straight, I thought to myself but didn’t have the balls to say aloud out of fear of Romi rejecting me. Yeah, I might have no problem admitting I was jealous, but public rejection wasn’t fun. After all, I endured it on a daily basis when it came to my folks.

"Well, is it true, Romi?" Stephie asked, causing all eyes to land on Romi. "Are you Sketch's girl?"

I held my breath, fucking terrified of her answer and desperate to hear it all at once.

Say yes.

Say yes.

Please God make her say yes.

"Yes," Romi replied sweetly.

Thank you, God.

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