Page 17 of Romeo vs Romeo

“Why?” I asked.

Roman laughed. “Now, why would anyone want to stage protests on Wall Street, I wonder.”

“Fair enough,” I admitted. “But why would you?”

He thought about it for a moment, pushing himself away from the wall and stopping inches away from me. I hadn’t realized how close to him I had stood. He lifted his head to meet my gaze. “Because I’m scared.”

My frown asked the question my lips couldn’t form.What are you scared of?

“I’m terrified,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment of calm and quiet before looking at me again. “The world is getting faster. It’s getting hotter. Artificial intelligence is threatening to create a graveyard of artists while spending enough electricity to power this entire city for years. Drones are calibrated better, they shoot down their targets more precisely, and the ice caps are melting. If you started a wealth jar in the last great ice age, putting ten thousand dollars in it every day, never spending a penny, you’d have thirty billion dollars today. That’s ten times less than what the single richest person on the planet has. And these assholes wear their expensive suits and get hard on everycompany that mentions AI while we’re literally burning the planet down.”

My breath had left me midway through his speech, and I hadn’t inhaled since. Lips parting, I realized my mouth was dry.

“Sometimes, I think we deserve to go extinct,” Roman said. “Then I remember that the rich have their underground shelters, and it’s the innocent who get swept away by the rising tides.”

I stepped back, looking down with shame that felt as though I was solely responsible for all that was wrong.

Roman cleared his throat, some of the tension leaving him. “Ah, look, I’m not going to apologize for giving you an existential crisis before bedtime. The fact that no one else is on the verge of losing their freaking mind scares me as much as anything else.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I said. “You’re right.”

“Still, not a very high note to end the evening on,” Roman said.

“No, but…” I wished I had a way with words like Roman. He could spill out a speech off the top of his head, and I couldn’t even string a few words together when it mattered. “Tonight was good.”

“You danced your heart out,” Roman said with a cheeky smile.

“Thanks, Rome,” I said simply. “It’s more than what anyone else did for me.”

He let the silence linger between us for a moment. “Would you come again?”

I nodded without thinking. I had been visiting Neon Nights while holding on to my envy, my hatred, and my righteousness for the pure pleasure of seeing others have a good time. Tonight, for the first time ever, I had some as well.

The night was over, and the time to go was here. I looked at Roman. I wondered. Everything tonight had led us to this moment here. He was unapologetically into men, into me, andhe was willing. He was nice, even if I hadn’t expected him to be. He was kind when I didn’t deserve it. He was cute when the orange light of a streetlamp fell on his face and emphasized his dimples. Was it not the perfect moment to lean in and let our lips touch? Wasn’t that how all stories made it happen?

I licked my lips as if I would kiss him, and then panic shut my body down. It froze my feet and balled my fists.

“See you around, Rome,” I said in a strangled voice.

Something went out of him at that moment. He stepped back, his smile still on, unchanging, but his gaze dropped down and returned up after a second. “Right,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll look out for you next weekend.”

I nodded, and then I turned away from him, striding down across the avenue and leaving him out of sight but never out of mind.

CHAPTER 5

A Gathering Storm

Everett

Just a few nights ago,the air around me had been so filled with the blasting, deafening music that Roman’s shouting into my ear resembled someone’s distant whispers. Tonight, in the luxurious dining room of my family’s Manhattan penthouse, where sacred icons and family heirlooms adorned all the empty surfaces and walls, the scrape of my knife against the fine porcelain plate screeched loudly enough to make all three of us stiffen.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, cutting the honeyed duck more carefully. Even chewing seemed to produce an echo that bounced against the walls and ceiling.

Father poured himself a shot of whiskey and offered it to me. Although I shook my head immediately, Mother glared at us both like I’d downed the entire bottle and did a little dance on the table.

“He’s old enough, Lavinia,” Father grumbled.

“That may be, but is he wise enough not to succumb to the sin of gluttony?” Mother’s tone implied I had already sinned.

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