Page 51 of No Romeo
Things with “Lodemort” shouldn’t be going anywhere, but fate was a sick bitch, and she was riding my balls hard. “We’re just roommates.”
“I want to give you so much crap for this…” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. “But we’ve been best friends since we were kids. I know you haven’t gotten over her.”
I hadn’t. I wasn’t sure I ever would, and it pissed me off. “Man…”’
“People mess up.” His gaze met mine. “She messed up, but—”
“You know I don’t talk about feelings and shit.”
“Just saying. Yeah, she hurt you, but from watching you self-destruct over the past two years, I think you’ve hurt yourself more.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes denying yourself of a good thing is a lot worse than accepting that even people who love you can screw up.”
Damn Plato bullshit. This was one hundred percent the doings of his annoying girlfriend. Scowling, I shoved him. “Drewber’s rich-girl ass has gotten you all up in your feels.” I pushed up from the wooden step. “Stop talking crap, and let’s go playCall of Duty.”
Bellamy’s dumbass was right. Lola had broken my heart, but what hurt worse was not being with her.
Every day I didn’t wake up next to that girl, it felt like I lost a little more of myself. We were young—still were young. She was the one person I could forgive almost anything, at least once.
Bellamy stayed for three games, then left when Arlo hurled in my kitchen sink from eating the box ofmyPop-Tarts Lola evidently snuck him before we’d come in.
The chime of the doorbell rang just as I started a new game alone.Footsteps pounded down the stairs.
“I know you gave him those Pop-Tarts, Medusa!” I shouted when she passed by the living room doorway.
“I needed help eating your stash.”
“You need to leave my stash alone.”
A guy’s voice came from the entrance, but before I could get annoyed, the greasy scent of pizza floated past.
The door shut, then she strutted into the living room and dropped two Pizza Palace boxes on the coffee table like a trophy. “Didn’t pay for that,” she said. Proud as hell.
“How?”
She plopped down on the couch, opened the top box, and pulled a wad of melted cheese from the lid. “Stole a coupon book from Smith’s desk the other day.”
“Is that you saying I don’t owe you?”
“It’s apology pizza.” She licked grease from her finger. “I’m sorry I lost my shit yesterday. It’s none of my business what you do.”
She meant who I did. And I didn’t like that. Still, I felt like I was being baited somehow.
I took a slice of pizza, suspicion crawling all over me as I stared across the couch at her. Lola was stubborn. She hardly ever offered up an “I’m sorry” that easily.
“If we’re going to live together, I think we need clear lines.” Her gaze met mine. “We can’t have sex again.”
Bullshit.
Lola knew more than anyone that telling me “no” only made me want something more. Back in eighth grade, I told her I wanted to shave my head.
She told me it would look like crap. I did it on pure principle.
Come to find out, she wanted me to shave it. She’d actually used “no” as reverse psychology to get what she wanted. She’d done it with sex, too.“No, Hendrix. You definitely can’t fuck me in the parking lot stairwell without getting caught.”
I did it three times. Never got busted.
With our history, it stood to reason shewasbaiting me. And this was a wriggling worm I’d swallow, hook and all.
“Yep. No more fucking.” I did the Boy Scout salute, fighting a smirk. “On my honor…”
