by Kai Strand
I nod, feeling shy.
“Nice to meet you.”
I smile. “You too.”
When the gloves make it to Rome he waves them in the air. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll see you guys later, okay?”
“Sure thing, honey.”
Rome pulls his gloves on as he descends the bleachers. I follow feeling like his mother’s eyes are watching my every move. As nice as they seem, I suspect she’s very protective of her boy. The thought warms me.
Back on the ground, Rome wraps an arm around me and dips his head toward mine. “They’ll probably insist on buying us a snack at break. It’s killing Mom that she doesn’t know the girl I’m taking to Homecoming.”
“You guys are so close.”
“Yeah. Isn’t your family close?” He holds me to his side as we squeeze through the oncoming traffic.
“No. I barely even see my parents anymore.”
I see his brow furrow for a second before he unwinds his arm from around me and takes my hand to lead me up the bleachers again toward our friends. As we climb I see heads tilt together and people frown, or eyebrows arch. Yep, already kids are wondering why I’m here with Rome. Some random circus announcer takes the center ring in my mind and calls, “It’s show time!”
“Bennett!”
Rome halts on the step in front of me, but doesn’t let go of my hand. I feel like a pre-schooler being led by a teacher.
“Donner?” Rome calls across the heads of the spectators who all seem to be looking at us instead of the game. “What are you doing here? Did OSU kick you out already?”
“Nope, just back for homecoming. Katie insisted.” Garrett Donner and Katie O’Dell have been dating for three years. He graduated last year with Rome. Katie’s in my class. “Why are you here?”
Rome lifts our joined hands. Donner seems to see me for the first time and I watch his heavy, caveman brow fold in on itself in a comical expression of confusion. His gaze shifts back to Rome and he shakes his head, clearly not understanding. Katie leans forward to peer around him and even her eyebrows look like a ruffle.
Rome laughs. “See ya at the dance.” He pulls me up the steps behind him and then stops at the end of the row where Cyn is waving wildly, as if we haven’t yet seen her. He rests his hands on my hips and gently guides me down the row. “You first.”
Even through all the thick material, the weight of his hands on the swell of my hips sends heart-palpitating spasms through my body. How can it feel so intimate through layers of leather, wool, and denim?
“Where did you go?” Cyn bellows when I sit next to her.
Rome is shaking hands and pounding the backs of guys all around us. I scan the immediate crowd and see most of the girls are staring up at him with doe eyes. A few are glaring daggers at me. I sigh and turn my attention to Cyn, wishing I could say something to her about it, but too afraid she’ll yell, “Screw ‘em all,” or something equally inappropriate.
“Rome hasn’t been home yet. His mom brought his gloves.” When Cyn just blinks at me, I rephrase. “We picked up his gloves from his mom.”
“Oh.” Her nod is decisive. “I thought you’d snuck off to grab a quickie or something.”
As she says this I feel Rome brush against me as he takes his seat. A flash of anger responds to Cyn’s careless words. “Why would you even think that?” She’s going to give Rome the wrong idea about me.
“Because if I were dating him, that’s what I’d do.” She leans forward to leer at Rome.
I’m so angry I almost have to take my coat off to avoid overheating.
Rome chuckles humorlessly beside me. “Just keeping it classy, huh Cyn?”
“What does that mean?” Cyn looks wounded.
“It might be your style to grab a quickie in a concrete bathroom that smells like vomit, in thirty-five degree weather, but somehow I doubt Lola’s much into that.”
I’m struck by my warring emotions. Half of me is touched that Rome would defend me. The other half wants to jump to Cyn’s defense. Luckily, she does that for herself. Sort of.
“Well, I don’t need to grab a quickie in a cold school bathroom, because I have all the freedom in the world to take my time in my nice warm bedroom.”
I’m completely scandalized she admitted that out loud and I peek at Rome to find him clenching his jaw.
“Wow,” he says, his voice either gravelly or choked.
I drop my head into my hands and grumble, “Cyn, please shut up.”
The roar of the crowd alerts me to the fact not only has the game started, but our team just scored. Rome jumps up and cheers along with Rick, on the far side of Cyn. They high five over our heads. Cyn leans her mouth close to my ear. “I’m sorry. Rick and I had a fight on the way here. I’m…my head…”
I wrap an arm around her and press my forehead to hers. “Say no more. Literally. You might want to keep your mouth shut until some of that beer wears off.”
Cyn laughs and bumps my shoulder with hers. “Deal.”
Chapter 13
The hamburger joint we frequent after home games is unusually quiet. Our table is no exception. Eight of us have stuffed into a booth for six, but we are all just staring at the silverware.
“Have we ever lost a homecoming game?” Lindsay—yes, named after the school—asks in a wavering voice.
“1926,” Rick answers. “The last year we lost a homecoming game.”
“Those douchebags at Strand Prep won’t let us forget it,” Josh, Lindsay’s boyfriend says.
“Can you blame them?” Cyn stabs the tines of her fork into her napkin. “We’ve been beating them every year forever. It isn’t like we don’t rub it in with sayings like The annual breaking of the Strand.”
I suspect she wishes she still had that beer buzz going. Can’t really blame her. Even though I coach myself that it’s ridiculous to be so crushed by the loss, I feel personally defeated.
“We could have used you guys out there.” Josh looks between Rick and Rome.
Rome shrugs since the statement is completely meaningless as far as he’s concerned. Rick stares guiltily down at the table.
The mood never picks up and by the time Rome and I climb into his car, I’m feeling pretty glum. So, I’m surprised when Rome turns to me with an eager expression. Only enough light from the tall post in the corner of the parking lot makes it in through the windshield to highlight half his face, but he is genuinely excited about something.
“What’s your favorite flower?”
“Mmm…why?” I stammer.
“Corsage.” He’s so matter of fact as he turns the key and the engine revs. My gloomy mood is making it difficult to keep up. “It might be too late to get my pick. I’m sorry I didn’t think to order it three weeks ago when I first asked.”
I’m finally caught up. He has already moved on to tomorrow night and his enthusiasm is catchy and really, really adorable. “Oh, no worries. I like lilacs and jasmine – the sweet smelling ones, but they don’t make good corsages. Whatever you get is fine. Actually, you don’t even have to worry about it.”
He shrugs and I’m sad to see we are already at my house. The library light is on, so my mom is awake. No asking Rome in.
“Thanks for coming all the way down here to go to the game,” I say. “Sorry we lost.”
“I’m not too broken up by it.”
He swings his door open, so I do the same. He’s around the car and offering me his hand to help me out before I can even plant my foot on the ground. He keeps hold of my hand all the way to the door and then turns to face me, clutching my hand in both of his.
“Lola, I…” His voice drops off suddenly and he swallows, his Adam’s apple jutting out. “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”
“I am too.” As I study his high cheekbones and the perfect plane of his nose, I’m awed to be standing in front of him. I’ve dreamt of this, without ever really expecting it.
“I had fun tonight, too.” His gaze finally lifts to meet mine. �
�Did you know your eyes get really dark green when you’re passionate about something?”
I shake my head, thinking they must be as dark as Cyn’s right now.
“And you have a freckle on your earlobe, right where a piercing would be if your ears were pierced.”
My earlobe throbs for attention and it’s all I can do not to tilt my head and offer it to him.
“And you bite your bottom lip when you’re anxious.”
I nod, because that I did know, but I’ve suddenly realized why he isn’t upset about us loosing. “Did you watch any of the game?”
He smiles and shakes his head, then lowers it toward me. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck, instantly warm to the point of steamy when our lips meet and his arms wind around my waist.
“You’re all I ever think about,” he whispers against my lips. “I want to do this with you all day, every day.”
In my mind I think I’m nodding, but in reality, I might be floating. The situation feels too surreal to be…well…real.
He deepens the kiss and my mind explodes with sensory overload. He tastes like the mint candy he plucked from the dish on the way out of the restaurant. His lips are so dexterous, capable. Are people born with good kissing skills or has he kissed that many girls? I immediately stop caring when his tongue runs lazily across my bottom lip. I open my mouth, hoping to swallow his tongue—him—whole. I’m pressing my body against him, wishing I could wrap a leg around him. What is he doing to me?
When his tongue plunges into my mouth, I suck it further in and he groans. I know I just crossed some sort of line I didn’t know existed and I pull out of the kiss.
We’re both breathing heavy. I’m stunned at the short amount of time it took for things to escalate to that level.
I raise a shaky, mitten-covered hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry. I…”
He shakes his head and presses his forehead against mine. With a sexy half smile he whispers, “Nothing to be sorry about, Lo.”
The scent of leather fills my nose when he cups his hand gently against my face. He gently rubs his thumb over my cheek and then drops his hand and skims it across my shoulder. For some reason I can’t explain, the action feels territorial and puts me off.
“Pick you up at 7:00.”
I nod, and my mouth automatically curves into a polite smile, but I’m still trying to figure out what happened to ruin the mood for me.
He leans forward again and gives me a feather-light kiss that lingers. I forget the bad feelings as my stomach starts to flip in response to the wonderful, teasing sensation of his lips.
“Night,” I breathe.
Chapter 14
Cyn and I spend most of Saturday at the salon, pampering ourselves with facials, massages, manicures, pedicures, hair, and make-up. By the time we leave, we only have to slip our dresses on to be ready for the dance. Cyn tags me on-line in a funny peek-a-boo selfie she took of us that only shows one of each of our eyes and a small segment of our hair. Once again, my stomach sinks at the shallow responses; You’ll be the most beautiful there. Can’t wait to see your dress. Lucky guys who get to wear you on their arms tonight. Okay, in truth, that last one just made me mad.
We air kiss in front of the salon and promise to find each other at the dance. I think about cautioning Cyn against drinking before the dance, but at the last minute I chicken out.
The sun has set, but the air has an unusual warmth that makes it feel like a late summer evening, instead of a fall night. I’m standing in front of my full-length mirror; happy Mom isn’t home to give one of those haughty sniffs to my dress. She’s told me for years, Always overdress for the occasion. I’m trying to figure out if I should take a wrap or a coat when our housekeeper, Edna, knocks lightly on my door before poking her head in. When she sees I’m dressed, she steps in holding a small black box.
“Your handsome young man is here,” she says. “And you must remove your necklace.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was asked to instruct you to remove your necklace.”
“Why?”
Edna shrugs. “He would not say.”
I’m surprised when my stomach flips with nerves. Or maybe it’s anticipation. As I unclip the simple gold chain I’m wearing, Edna stands next to me and nods at my reflection.
“You look so grown up.”
Panic seizes me, and I spin to face her. “Like dowdy? Is this an old lady dress?”
She laughs and gently pats my cheek. “No, not at all. It’s you who has grown up. It’s in your eyes, I think.”
Maybe that’s what caught Rome’s attention. He said I looked different. I turn toward the mirror one more time and really look at myself. My eyes, my features, my shape. But it all looks the same to me. I take a deep breath and announce, “I’ve decided on the wrap.”
As I drape the black and white garment over my arm, Edna nods. “It will look especially coordinated with your date.” She takes it from me, trading it for the box with the boutonniere inside. “He should see all of you at once.”
Somehow Edna’s advice on how to enter a room is more welcome than Mom’s. Probably because Edna has been doling it out genuinely and lovingly my entire life, whereas Mom only tosses it in my general direction when it affects appearances.
“Thanks.” I screw up my mouth in a nervous grin that makes her chuckle and she follows me out of my room. I pause in the shadows at the top of the stairs to admire Rome. I’m shocked to see that the tie and vest under his black tuxedo jacket are both a pristine white. I purse my lips trying to remember if I ever told him the color of my dress. I’m sure I didn’t and, even though I know it’s completely silly, I think that it’s somehow a sign that we’re meant to be a couple.
When I step down the first stair, Rome’s gaze skims upward. It sweeps me up and down a couple of times and I think I see him suck in a breath through his nose. His eyes widen before he blinks a couple times. I barely contain my own pleased smile from splitting into a lunatic’s grin, I love that he has to school his reaction. I wonder what he would have done if Edna wasn’t behind me. If we were alone.
At the bottom of the stairs, he steps forward and takes my hand. He kisses the back of my knuckles and mumbles a greeting that I’m sure was proper and polite, but I’m looking into his stormy eyes and my mind is racing.
“You look stunning,” he says. His eyes are saying something like, holy shit.
“So do you.” I hope my eyes are as expressive as his. I step back and open the box. The boutonnière is a simple white rose bud with a single spray of lily of the valley.
Rome breathes in as I pin it on. “Of course it smells wonderful.”
I smile, but mostly concentrate on what I’m doing. Pinning corsages on is a nerve-wracking business.
When I’m finished he instructs me to turn around. I squint at him and he raises his finger and points toward Edna who is still behind me. I spin and shrug at Edna, who shrugs back, but leans to the side to see around me. Her eyes get round and fill with pleasure and surprise just before Rome drops something in front of me and pulls it gently around my neck. A spring garden of aroma surrounds me, and I try to look down, but my chin hits something that seems fragile, so I hold my head high to give Rome and whatever it is room to work.
“Lucky for me your hair is up,” he says. His voice is directly behind me and I feel the warmth of his fingers rest against the back of my neck as he fumbles with a fastener.
Edna’s eyes shine with tears as she presses a hand against her smile. “Beautiful.”
Rome drops his hands to my shoulders and steers me toward a mirror hanging on the wall. I’m so stunned by what I see that I can’t react. As Rome watches my reaction, his pleased smile falls away and his brow furrows. Then he smiles and says pleasantly, “You don’t have to wear it.”
My gaze meets his in the mirror and I know I look panicked. The thought of taking off the beautiful gift so soon sends me into some strange mother bear protection mode. “R
ome, it’s amazing. I…how…”
I step closer to the mirror and gingerly touch the sprig of pure white lilac hanging from the center of the choker. Then my fingers whisper over the tiny blooms that make up the choker; roses, plumeria, plox, and other flowers I can’t identify. Every one of them white. Every one of them scented. I want to turn toward him, to show him how truly pleased I am with the gift, but I don’t want to look away from it. So, I let my gaze meet his in the mirror again, though it quickly drops to admire my choker. “Did you think of this?”
He studies me as if he can’t quite figure out if he should admit to it or not. Finally, he nods.
“It’s so unique. It’s so thoughtful.”
His grin broadens, like he’s finally convinced of my pleasure. “I think the florist hates me.”
I laugh and turn toward him, grasping his hands. “Thank you, Rome. It really means a lot to me.”
A thought strikes me, and I jump and leap toward Edna. “I have to have a picture!”
I dig my phone out of my clutch and hand it to her before bouncing back to stand next to Rome, sliding my arm around his waist. My breathing stutters when his arm wraps around me and his heated hand rests in the curve of my waist, burning through the material of my dress onto my sensitive skin.
Edna snaps a couple of full-length shots and then steps closer. “I must get a good shot of that lovely corsage.”
With the pictures over, I take my wrap and clutch from Edna and we say our goodbyes. Rome’s hand stays on my waist as we walk to his car. His hand is so present and accounted for, it takes my breath away. When it slides across my back as I lower myself into the passenger seat, it leaves a trail of heat that lasts all the way to the restaurant.
He surprises me by taking me to a French restaurant that I’ve only been to once before. He looks sheepish when he explains. “I know this is one of the nicer restaurants that doesn’t carry accounts the high school kids can charge to. We’re less likely to run into anyone.”