That night, she took out the locket Weston had given her, but she didn’t open it. She couldn’t bear to look at his face and know what she’d done. It felt like he already knew. And despite what the others had said at lunch, she didn’t think he’d be hurt so much as disgusted with her. She put the locket back in the box and shoved it to the back of her drawer. The last thing she needed was holier-than-thou Weston judging her. She was doing enough of that on her own.
Was Enzo judging her? He hadn’t called. What if he’d only wanted her for sex? Now he’d gotten what he wanted and disappeared.
You’re being stupid. It’s been one day.
Still, she couldn’t help but remember her first time with Weston. It had been his first time, too, so maybe that made it different. But he’d been so…so Weston. Caring and attentive, telling her how much he loved her and that he felt like they now shared this new bond that could never be broken. That he was so happy that it had been her, that they’d gotten to be each other’s first, the one and only.
Now he would never be her one and only.
Maybe she wouldn’t be his, either. Maybe he’d found someone else just as fast as she had. The thought made her want to poke her pencil through her ear and scramble her brains. But what did it matter what he was doing? She shouldn’t care. She’d dumped him. It was none of her business if he moved on, and how fast, and with whom he chose to do it.
She should be thinking about Enzo, not Weston. Enzo was still her concern, while Weston could do whatever he wanted. She had chosen Enzo. And he had said he would call her.
Her phone buzzed and she grabbed for it so fast that she knocked it off the nightstand. As it clattered across the hardwood floor, she dove for it, recovering it just before she caught Kristina’s look.
“What?” she asked, retreating to her bed like nothing had happened.
“You’re in lo-ove,” Kristina sang.
Maggie took a breath before turning her phone over. The screen was cracked. And Rory had texted to make sure she was okay and ask about that Friday, when they were supposed to go out. She lay back on her bed, wanting to scream. Everything was breaking apart. The life she’d so carefully constructed, since she was fourteen years old, had imploded in a matter of days. Maybe Weston had been the one thing that held it together all this time.
By Friday, she still hadn’t heard from Enzo, and she didn’t really want to go out at all. The thought of seeing him made her sick with nerves. He hadn’t called because he didn’t want to see her. Kristina was right—she’d slept with him on their first date, and now he was done with her. Showing up for a second date would look hopelessly desperate.
But not showing up would be too obvious. Then he’d know that she was avoiding him, that she couldn’t handle a casual encounter with him after their hookup. That she couldn’t maintain the indifference that he could, so she’d lost the game she hadn’t even known she was playing.
In the end, her desire to see him won out, though she wasn’t sure why she wanted to. Half of her wanted to show him just how okay she was, that he’d meant nothing to her, that she could look hot, flirt with other guys and be wanted by someone other than him. The other half of her wanted to show him just how much he’d devastated her, to punish him by making him feel guilty for the way things had turned out. But the truth was, if he’d done it to her, he’d probably done it to plenty of other girls, and she wasn’t going to be the one who finally got through to him and made him suddenly develop a conscience any more than all the other girls, who probably thought the same thing, had.
So she steeled herself to see him, halfway hoping that he’d be the one who bailed. Then she would win by default, because he’d forfeited. But also, she hoped that he showed up and saw her looking cute in the way he wanted her to look, with contacts in her eyes and Kristina’s makeup all over her face, wearing an impossibly short skirt borrowed from Kristina’s closet. Though on Maggie’s short legs, it hit at mid-thigh instead of just barely below the ass, so it didn’t have quite the same effect.
When she walked off the tram that night, she couldn’t stop pulling at the hem of the skirt nonetheless. She’d never worn something above two inches above the knee in her life.
“Armani’s running late,” Kristina said, looking up from her phone. “I can’t believe this. I think he’s seeing someone else.”
Maggie almost tripped over her feet. “What? I thought he was perfect and you were madly in love?”
“I don’t know,” Kristina said. “He’s been acting really shady.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been whining about Weston and Enzo all week, and you didn’t say anything.”
“I don’t know,” Kristina said. “Let’s just go in. I don’t want to make you wait out here for him.”
“I don’t mind.”
“No, I’m ready to forget guys. Let’s go have fun ourselves. We don’t need them.”
They got in line to go inside, and just as they reached the front of the line, a hand slid around Maggie’s waist. “Hello, my sexy girl,” Enzo said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Maggie wasn’t sure how to react, what to say to him. He wasn’t being weird and awkward, or pointedly ignoring her, or flirting with other girls, or anything else she’d expected. “I like this,” he said, flipping the edge of her skirt. “Did you wear it for me?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, slapping his hand away. “I didn’t even think you’d show up.”
“And miss a chance to dance with my sexy girl?” he asked, slipping a handful of euros to the girl at the door and motioning for her and Kristina to go in. They entered together, and Enzo immediately led them to the bar and bought them all a double round of shots. Maggie could see where this was headed already.
“Don’t try to get me drunk, because I’m not going home with you again,” she said, holding onto Enzo’s shoulder while she spoke into his ear.
He laughed and squeezed her butt. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Trust me, I can keep it.” Even as she said the words, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the alcohol that had made her want him. It was him, the way he saw her, the way he wanted her so much. It was intoxicating, irresistible. She’d known better than to go home with him last time, but she couldn’t help herself. The way he looked at her, desired her, made her forget all her reasons for not wanting him.
But his arrogance made her want to prove him wrong, and she swore to herself that she wouldn’t repeat the mistake she’d made the last time they hung out. In fact, she was a little annoyed that he’d showed up at all. If he hadn’t come, she would have been hanging out and dancing with Kristina, bitching about their boys who didn’t show up. Even though she and Kristina were living together again, she felt like she’d hardly seen her all summer. They were both so busy with the guys in Rome that they hardly talked about anything else anymore.
“Come on, let’s dance,” Enzo said. Kristina followed them onto the floor, and Enzo put an arm around each of them. After a few minutes, Maggie had to force herself not to notice the way Kristina flung her blonde hair back and forth, the way she rubbed up against Enzo. She would have done the same thing to Weston, and Maggie would have laughed and never in a million years thought to be jealous. But then, Weston wouldn’t have been grabbing her butt while she rode his thigh, either.
Weston hadn’t compared Maggie to Kristina a dozen times, and she hadn’t come up short every time. Weston had never dry-humped Kristina right in front of her, had never seemed to enjoy her company just a sliver more than he enjoyed Maggie’s. He’d never made her feel like the third wheel on her own date.
“I’m going to go get some water,” Maggie said, turning away.
Before she could take another step, Enzo pulled her back to him. “I have the two most beautiful girls in Rome tonight,” he said. “You can’t leave.”
“You won’t be having any girls tonight if you don’t act like a gentleman,” she said. “Now stop groping my friend.”
; “You’re funny,” Enzo said, biting her earlobe. Then he turned and continued grinding against Kristina.
Maggie didn’t announce that she was going this time. She simply walked away, expecting him to grab her with each step. But he didn’t. He probably hadn’t even noticed that she’d walked away. At the bar, she ordered a water and took out her phone.
Cynthia had texted to ask what club they were meeting at. Maggie had forgotten that they’d even invited Cynthia, and she felt bad now that they hadn’t planned better. She texted back and told her to come meet them, and then she texted Rory, just to make up for not waiting for Cynthia. She’d been so caught up in whether or not to go, and then whether or not to look hot and ignore Enzo, that she’d forgotten her own friends.
The bartender shoved a drink across the bar to her.
“Oh, no, this isn’t mine,” she said, sliding it back.
“It’s paid for,” the girl said, barely glancing at Maggie before rushing to fill another drink.
“Why the sad face?” a voice purred in her ear. She jumped a mile and spun around, her heart hammering in her chest.
A guy was standing right there, just close enough so his heat touched her but he didn’t. For a few seconds, she stared at him with her mouth literally hanging open. Coarse, wavy hair, so dark brown it was nearly black, longish so it curled at the collar. Bright, piercing amber eyes. Just a hint of stubble across his chiseled cheekbones and square jaw. His nose was just a little bit crooked, in the Roman way, which gave his face just enough imperfection. She’d never looked at him so closely before, had never been so close to him.
“You scared me,” she said, laughing.
“I am to apologize,” Armani said. Unlike Enzo, his English was so accented and awkward she could hardly understand him. But Kristina was the type who wouldn’t mind a slow-talker—especially one who looked like Armani. She probably wasn’t interested in talking to him, anyway.
“Where are your friends?” he asked. “Is Kristina here?”
“She’s here,” Maggie said, nodding towards the dancefloor. “See her there? Dancing with Enzo.”
After a few seconds Armani spotted them and said, “Aw. I see her now.” He turned back to Maggie, studying her so intently with those amber eyes that it made her feel warm all over. No wonder Kristina was in love with this guy. He said two sentences to Maggie, and she was already tongue-tied. “This is why you sit here alone?” he asked.
She shrugged.
Armani leaned in close to Maggie and cut his eyes towards the dancers. “Enzo, he is what you call, an ass.”
Maggie couldn’t help but laugh.
“See, this is better,” Armani said. “A beautiful girl should never be left alone when she is sad. Come, we will dance.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I could…”
“Please?” he said, holding out one hand and giving her the most convincing puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen. “For me?”
“Okay,” she said, laughing and dragging herself off the stool.
“Don’t leave your drink,” he said. “It might disappear. We’ll finish it first.”
“I don’t know if I can drink all this.”
“I’ll help you. Then get you more if you need.”
She handed it to him first. After he’d taken a swallow, she took it back and sipped at it. If he’d drink it, then he must not have put anything in it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t trust a drink from a guy that handsome, even if she did know him a little. He was the charming type that could convince someone to come back to his apartment, and then she’d wake up in a bathtub without a kidney.
Although it appeared that Kristina still had both her kidneys, as well as all the other parts of her body, which she was now rubbing all over Maggie’s date. Not the kidneys, just the other parts.
“Kristina says you like to dance,” Armani said, sucking down about half her drink in one swallow.
Maggie finished off the drink and handed the glass to Armani, who set it on the bar and then led her onto the dance floor. His hand was cool and dry around her sweaty little paw. She felt suddenly self-conscious about it, as if he’d judge her for her palm sweat because he didn’t know she’d been dancing already.
You are literally the most ridiculous person on earth. Armani does not care about your hand or anything else about you.
The truth was, Maggie didn’t want Armani to like her or find her sexy. He was Kristina’s guy. But she did want to give Kristina a little taste of her own medicine, even if it was just to prove a point. So she threw her arms around Armani’s neck and pressed her body to his.
She had to pull back after less than a minute. Her face was hot as she darted a glance at Kristina. The amount of adrenaline coursing through her, when combined with the heat of the club and the alcohol she’d drunk, made her feel dizzy. It would have been a little easier to pretend if she weren’t actually attracted to Armani. That made the line blur between sincerity and artifice, and she didn’t want to lead him on. What had come over her? She never used to be attracted to random guys, even hot ones.
He was a good dancer, too. Unlike Enzo, he didn’t seem intent on grinding so hard he tore holes in her clothes. Instead, he moved his hips against hers just lightly, running his hands up and down her bare arms, which were still around his neck, and down her sides, which tickled, but in a good way. Finally, he hooked an arm around her back and pulled her in just enough to secure her body against his, his hips moving slowly to the beat. She thought she might faint if she got any more lightheaded. No wonder Kristina liked this guy. If he did other things the way he danced…
The song ended and the music moved easily into the beat of the next song. Kristina spotted them at last, shrieked, and flew into Armani’s arms. He caught her around the waist, laughing, still holding onto Maggie with his other arm. But instead of making some crude joke, he said to Maggie, “Thank you for keeping me company so I didn’t have to dance alone.” Then he leaned in and kissed first one cheek and then the other, and then her lips. She was so startled she didn’t react at all.
Kristina laughed and gave Maggie a squeeze, then moved in front of her, taking up both of Armani’s arms. Maggie was jostled by a couple dancers while she got her bearings. She was the one who would have to dance alone—some other girl would have swooped in to take Armani in a second if he tried to dance by himself. Fortunately, Maggie didn’t have to dance alone for more than a second before Enzo zeroed in and started grinding on her.
Chapter Sixteen
In a daze, Maggie moved to the music, trying not to lose the beat as Enzo bumped against her. She couldn’t seem to find her groove with him on the dance floor any more than she could in bed. By the time they went to the bar to get some water, Cynthia had shown up, along with Rory, Ned, and Armani’s other friends.
“Where’s your sidekick?” Maggie asked Cynthia.
Cynthia shrugged. “He had some other stuff going on.”
Maggie almost never saw Cynthia without Nick. But she didn’t want to meddle, so she gave Cynthia a quick hug and told her and Rory to come dance. No sooner had they stepped into the crowd of dancers then Enzo grabbed Maggie and spun her around to face him. He squeezed her butt with both hands and started grinding his knee between her legs again. She concentrated on keeping her balance. After a while, though, it started to feel good, and she hooked her leg around the back of Enzo’s.
“You want to come home with me tonight, don’t you?” he asked. “I know you do.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you a lot better than you think I do,” he said. “You Americans are not so mysterious.”
“You’re definitely not changing my mind right now.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t need mystery,” he said. “That’s one of the things I like about American girls.”
“How many American girls have you been with?”
“We’re not talking about that, remember?” he said. “I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”
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“Unless Kristina’s around,” she said, but she couldn’t tell if he heard her over the thumping music that had begun to give her a headache.
“Let’s get your friend to dance with us,” Enzo said, pulling Rory into their twosome. “I like to watch you dance with her. It’s super sexy.”
Maggie put her arms around Rory’s neck while Enzo humped at her from behind.
“Are you drunk?” Rory asked, leaning close and yelling over the music.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t feel that good. I think I had, like, three drinks already. I might get sick.”
“Do you need me to come with you?” Rory asked.
They broke away from Enzo and made their way to a restroom. “This looks like the kind of place where girls get raped,” Maggie said. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“No problem,” Rory said, looking around the dimly lit room with scribbling all over the walls. “I’m not touching anything, though. You’re not going to pass out in here, are you?”
“I feel like it,” Maggie said. “I never drink at home. It makes me want to go to sleep. Ugh, you’re right, though. That would be a bad idea.”
“Were you this drunk when you slept with Enzo? Because that’s, like, really bad.”
“No, it’s fine,” Maggie said. “I wanted to. I’ll probably go home with him again tonight.”
“Really? After he didn’t call you?”
“Yeah, but he’s acting normal now,” she said. “He’s not blowing me off or ignoring me or any of the things I was freaking out about all week. I was worrying for nothing. He’s just like he’s always been.”
“I guess,” Rory said, winding her light red hair up into a bun and securing it with a clip. “I’ve seen your boyfriend at home, though. He’s a lot cuter.”
When in Rome...Break His Heart Page 11