Romeo and the Angel: Impossible Crush Chronicles

by Leeann M. Shane

  We stared at each other for a long time. In his eyes I saw travesty. Not because of the things he’d gone through, but because of the things he’d become. I wanted to tell him that this was his chance. He could get out too, start a new life somewhere else.

  But I didn’t.

  Because guys like Enrique didn’t want out. They’d only ever belonged inside.

  He came up the steps and sat down beside me. “I heard your mom’s going to Mexico.”

  I nodded, looking out over the park.

  “Are you going, too?”

  “No.”

  “Are you coming back here? We could use you, bro. The Kings are hurting right now. So much loss. But I’m going to build them back up. Make them strong again. Better. We’ll never lose again. You could be a part of that.”

  It would never end. Another gang would just replace them. More violence, more tears and loss. A million individuals made up a gang, but it was the individual’s story that got them there. Not everyone would get out. Not everyone got second chances.

  “No, I can’t.” I stood up. “I didn’t come back here to stay. I came back here to say goodbye. I’m taking my second chance and I’m not going to end up like our father’s and brother’s. Running the Kings is a bad idea. You’re never going to leave behind a proud legacy, but a bloody one. We grew up together, Enrique, but we’re not kids anymore. I’m out of here.”

  He held my eyes, absorbed my words, maybe even respected them. He nodded slowly, holding out his hand. “Diego would be proud.”

  I shook his hand. “I know.”

  When I made it back to Rya’s place, she was waiting for me, sitting on the small step in front of her door. Hair messy from sleeping, fuzzy slippers on her feet. Beautiful face glowing under the moon. Her warm breath puffed out of her lips, clouding in the cold air.

  When she saw me, she let out a relieved breath.

  When I saw her, I could finally take one.

  “Where were you?” she asked, taking my hand.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m home now.” I kissed her cold lips. “I’m finally home.”

  I got my first tattoo the day I turned eighteen. It wasn’t a crown and knife like the one I’d lived my whole life fearing.

  It was a pair of angel wings over the scars on my chest. Raf and Diego’s names were incorporated in the feathers. Gabby and Antony’s names were on the wings. And Rya’s name was in the center, bridging the wings together. Giving the entire piece life.

  Reason.

  I’d waited my entire life for my angel.

  And now that I had her, I could finally breathe.

  EPILOGUE

  RYA

  The first day of college should come with a survival pack.

  Aspirin for the impending headache.

  Chocolate for the inescapable emotional torment.

  And the boy of your dreams handing them both to you with his shirt off, hard body dripping wet right out of the shower.

  Romeo grinned at me. “Your pain pills and chocolate, my angel.”

  I smirked. “Whoa, what are you doing? Don’t put a shirt on and cover up that work of art.”

  He paused in the middle of grabbing his shirt out of his luggage, giving me a weird look. He’d already pulled on a pair of jeans. “My tattoo? You’ve seen it a million times.”

  “No, your abs, crazy. You worked hard on those.” I studied his tan six-pack.

  “You’ve seen those a million times too.” He put his shirt on, rolling his eyes at my groan of disappointment. He jumped onto the bed next to me, pulling me against his chest. “Was today really that bad? I had fun. New faces. New city. We can be whoever we want, Rya. We can become whatever we want to become. The possibilities make me lightheaded.”

  His excitement was adorable. When I first met Romeo Moreno, adorable probably wasn’t the most accurate description for him. Handsome and trapped might have been. Encumbered by his pain and violence, his adorableness had been hidden beneath broodiness and necessary strength. Don’t get me wrong, that boy was beautiful. His strength even more so. But the man he’d become over the past year wasn’t afraid to hope and wonder. He wasn’t afraid to breathe.

  “Today wasn’t really that bad, I’m just overwhelmed. And my head’s still at home.”

  He pressed a kiss to the space behind my ear. “Mine is too, but Gabby and Antony are fine, Rya. Your mother and father are doing us an incredible favor taking care of them while we’re away at college. Let’s not forget that. We’ll drive down and visit them every weekend. And you’re forgetting the best part of moving away and renting a house off campus.”

  I felt my lips rise. “What’s that?”

  “Having our own room.” He gently grasped my chin and guided my lips to his. His kiss was warm and deep, curling my toes on our bed.

  I wondered if my heart would ever get used to feeling like it would pound out of my chest when he kissed me. If I’d ever have enough of him. Never. My guess was never. I deepened the kiss, shivering when he groaned. I reached for the hem of his shirt, ready to rid his abs of this awful blockage.

  But the door of our room hit the back wall and a familiar voice tore through my fog. “Seriously? Would you two stop groping each other and help me get our crap off the moving truck?”

  Romeo smiled against my lips. “I didn’t even get to the groping.”

  I pouted. “I noticed.”

  Laughing, he kissed me once more and then hopped up to help Kenzie with our things. The moving truck had finally arrived. By the end of the night, all three of us would be officially moved into our college home.

  My sister gave me a knowing smirk when I walked past her.

  She put her arm around my shoulder to whisper in my ear. “What was it like?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You know. Sex.”

  I blushed from the top of my head down to my sandal-clad toes. Unfortunately, I couldn’t blame the heat in Albuquerque on the sudden upsurge in body temperature. “How’d you know?” I demanded.

  My sister rolled her eyes. “The way you look at him. It’s obvious.”

  “It is not,” I insisted. “Is it?”

  She laughed. “It’s okay, Rya. You guys waited over a year to have sex. I was just wondering, is all.”

  Kenzie hadn’t dated anyone since Raf. She mourned for the love they never got a chance to have. I hoped this was her year. That she’d find her own Romeo and he’d be in need of an angel named Kenzie Triston. She deserved it.

  “Wondering if it was amazing and perfect?” I winked at her. “Wonder no more.”

  We were in the middle of a sister scream/jumping fest when Romeo came in, struggling with a box. He took one look at us, shook his head, and then continued on his way, making us collapse in a heap of giggles on our sofa in our college house.

  Romeo and Kenzie and I had a hard time graduating with our class. We missed so many days, we’d had to spend the rest of our senior year busting our butts to make grades and get into college. But we did it. Together.

  Romeo’s college admission letters had grabbed the attention of every college he applied to. He’d taken the story of Romeo and the Angel and turned it into a remarkable non-fiction novel about his life rather than a regular college admittance letter. He was given full rides to any college he wanted, but he chose to go to the only college within driving distance of our family.

  The University of New Mexico.

  The only college that accepted both Kenzie and me.

  It felt like fate. A hand. A chance to make the loss and hopes of the past year matter.

  Romeo wanted to become a doctor. To save lives. To make those he’d lost count.

  I wanted to become an author. To write stories the lost could escape inside of. Antony said he couldn’t wait to read my first book.

  Kenzie wanted to become a youth counselor. To reach the Raf’s of the world before it was too late.

  But when it was just us, all I wanted was my Romeo.

>   And he’d always get his Angel.

  Thank you so unbelievably much for reading and giving Romeo and the Angel a chance. If I scared you at the end, I’m so sorry, but they got their HEA in the end, and I’m so honored you were a part of their story.

  If you enjoyed reading as much as Antony, please consider leaving a review.

  Leeann M. Shane escapes through reading and creates escape routes for others. She writes edgy, beautiful, and moving young-adult titles.

  Email: leeannmshane@gmail.com

  Website: https://leeannmshane.weebly.com

  Also by Leeann M. Shane:

  The Tomboy & the Rebel

  For seventeen-year-old Melanie Barton,

  high school is a war zone.

  She prefers baggy jeans, cool hoodies,

  and comfort over beauty.

  She’s in a constant fight against the popular kids,

  her emotions, and society.

  It’s exhausting, and it doesn’t help that

  things at home are getting harder

  to deal with ever since her parent’s divorce.

  Her one safe place is photography class.

  She can see the world through a lens,

  and there’s no chance at war in her safe place… right?

  Wrong.

  The war she fights gets ten times

  harder when the biggest assignment

  in photography class forces her into

  close contact with Darren “Dare” Morre,

  Phoenix High’s very own bad boy.

  Dare is bad news in every way.

  He manages to push every single button Melanie has.

  They’ll never get along enough to finish this project,

  let alone ever become friends. She’s doomed.

  Just being around him makes his ex-girlfriend,

  Maisy, queen bee at Phoenix High,

  paint a target on her back.

  The war she’s been fighting becomes all-out anarchy.

  But something strange happens

  the more time Dare and Melanie spend together.

  Maybe the bad boy isn’t all that bad.

  Maybe he’s just misunderstood. And maybe this

  tomboy could use a little understanding…

  Purchase on Amazon:

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078N68C15

  The Rarity of Falling

  My life was primarily about surviving and hockey.

  Not girls.

  But then again, Ava wasn’t girls.

  She was only one.

  One girl with eyes the color of sweetness and a personality that spun the same.

  My life was about school and my friends.

  Not boys.

  But then again, Bishop wasn’t just any boy.

  He was my solid ground.

  When forcing out smiles and hiding secrets is no longer possible, Bishop’s the unlikely force there to steady me.

  She wasn’t supposed to uproot my life.

  I wasn’t supposed to like it.

  He wasn’t supposed to be my strength.

  I wasn’t supposed to need any.

  It’s rare when opposites attract.

  He’s quiet and broody.

  I’m outgoing and bubbly.

  But when we come together, we fall.

  Over and over again.

  And nothing is ever the same…

  The Rarity of Falling is a sensitive and unputdownable coming of age love story by Leeann M. Shane.

  Purchase on Amazon:

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07MH3CBQX

  Read on for a sample of The Rarity of Falling:

  CHAPTER ONE

  Bishop

  I was a quiet guy.

  In fact, I detested talking. Mostly because I had nothing to say and most people wanted something, or worse, they didn’t want anything at all.

  “Then why are you on a team?” I’d been asked on more than one occasion.

  My response, when I absolutely had to give one was: “You can’t play hockey by yourself.”

  I loved hockey.

  Love was another aspect I wasn’t entirely familiar with. I enjoyed hockey more than anything else, so I figured that was love. But what did I know? I’d never been loved or loved anyone else, so I was simply going on emotions.

  Which never helped anyone.

  School started a few weeks ago. Hockey had, too. I made the final cut that morning. I was officially on the team. I wasn’t an excitable guy, but I admitted to myself that I was pleased. Pleased to be on the ice again after six long months of practicing and waiting. I missed the lights, the cold of the stadium, the chill cutting through the air.

  Since school had finally settled into normalcy instead of the chaos of a new year, the teachers were no longer forgiving. Hence this new, horrible turn of events.

  “Bishop, did you hear me?”

  I looked up from my desk and into my teacher’s eyes. They were brown. Muted in color and despondent—she probably hated her job—and her lashes were caked in mascara. I had this bad habit of studying people. They weren’t interesting in the literal sense, but more in the confused sense. I wasn’t like everyone else. I wanted to study them not to become them, but maybe to understand myself better. I didn’t know…

  Miss Barter waved her hand in front of my face and the snickers a few tables over tore me from studying the inner parts of her lips where her red matte lipstick had missed.

  I blinked at her. I’d heard her all right. I just hadn’t liked what she’d said.

  In response, I grabbed my backpack off the empty seat next to me so my partner could sit down. Miss Barter huffed, waving my partner on.

  The worse partner I could have asked for.

  She was made of bubbles. I was sure of it.

  Blonde, pink, and loud.

  Friendly would probably be a nice way to describe her, but I was in fact unfriendly, and she was the kind of girl who didn’t take the hint. She set down her gray JanSport backpack with coral-colored flowers on it onto the table and grinned at me.

  “Hi, Bishop.” She tucked her skirt under her legs and sat down, bright teeth on display.

  She said “hi” like we knew each other. True, Ava and I had been going to school together since my foster parents had taken me in, which was around ten or eleven, but we’d never really spoken. She was a drama student. I was a hockey player. Our circles weren’t supposed to cross.

  I turned back to my desk, reading the carvings in it from other students, who had sat in my seat and felt the same way or most likely didn’t. FREE ME, however, resonated with me. I traced the scratched words.

  Ava Mackson sighed as if I’d popped her bubble and then folded her hands together on top of the table. “This is going to be a long year, isn’t it?” she mumbled under her breath.

  I narrowed my eyes and sat up straight, folding my arms behind my head and resting in my chair. She meant sitting next to me would be arduous, because she liked to blab, and I didn’t. I would typically keep quiet, but the fact that she thought she was the one put out here was insulting. “The longest.”

  She brushed her dark blonde hair out of her way to shoot a glare my way. It was a true glare, too. Not one of those fake one’s girls give you when they’re trying to be cute and pissed. No, Ava was just plain old pissed, instead of her sweet, nice self. I brought that out in her. Cool.

  “Are you implying something by that comment, Bishop?”

  My eyes trailed over her. Ava was striking. I wasn’t a total introvert, or blind, for that matter. She had a cute, diamond-shaped face, with these puffy lips that she’d glossed with something clear and a pert nose. Her hair was blonde naturally—I couldn’t remember it ever not being blonde, but she’d streaked it with darker golden highlights at some point. She had a tiny patch of freckles under both eyes, like she never wore sunglasses, and her eyelashes were bleached of color, making her light brown irises shimmer like honey. She was tall-ish, shorter than me, but most girls
and some men were, too. At six-three, I was a bulky wall. Long and quick—it was like I was made to play hockey with my reach and speed.

  Everything else, I fell short at.

  She looked away and yanked open the front pocket on her backpack. She pulled out a mirror and stared at herself in it.

  “Where is it?” She turned this way and that.

  I frowned at her. “Where’s what?”

  “The massive zit you’ve been staring at for like five minutes straight.”

  I shook my head and turned my focus on Miss Barter at the front of the classroom. Had I really been staring at her for that long? I shook my head once more, catching the table of girls who’d snickered earlier grinning at me. I ignored them. The teacher began talking about our upcoming assignment. Home economics was a class that was required to graduate, but it was one of the most grueling, so everyone waited until senior year when they couldn’t avoid it. We’d spent the first two weeks working on a paper that completely drawn-out how broke and inexperienced we were when it came to bills and supporting ourselves.

  I got an A to admit I was clueless.

  Welcome to high school.

  But Coach Stan was brutal when it came to grades. If we didn’t maintain a 3.7 grade point average on top of practices every day after school, not to mention winning, we’d be off the team. No questions asked. No rebuttals. I got this feeling that hockey was my way out. Without it, who would I become?

  The lack of answers freaked me out the most.

  “That brings us to our newest assignment. Most of you are probably wondering why I’ve put you into groups. In our last assignment, we established how expensive being an independent person is in today’s world.” She pulled out a box. “Now we’re going to do this as couples. I want a detailed paper on the costs of being a broke newlywed, however you want. Whatever dynamic your group brings. It’s due in two weeks and it had better be good. Now, take a ring and wear it. If you lose your ring, I’m docking ten percent.”