Page 24 of Romeo vs Romeo

And Roman, who I had kissed so happily, was forging plans that had begun inmy headto fight my father.

Although I couldn’t draw a deep breath from the weight of my sins pressing down my chest, I straightened and stumbled and walked home. As I did, I wondered if there even was such a thing as home.

CHAPTER 6

Drawing Battleplans

Roman

When I woke up,the only problems in my life were a brain-splitting headache and a deeply frustrating erection. I had time for neither.

My mouth was dry, burning with thirst, as I clambered off my bed and sauntered to the door. I’d had a few too many sorrow-numbing shots last night.

Last night.

The fog in my head cleared a little, and I retraced the events of the evening. Mama Viv had gotten a letter so terrible that we had all gotten shitfaced in the hours that followed. Poor Bradley had to run the bar and oversee the servers while his future was on the line as much as everyone’s. And frankly, of all of us there, Bradley was the one who needed steady income the most. I set that thought aside and turned from the door to find a pair of pants. My dick was very stubborn on the best of days, but today, it seemed extra eager to annoy me.

Then, as I put my pants on and turned to the door, I saw it. It was clear as if it was still happening. Everett, standing in my doorway, on his way out with all the reluctance in the world.Because I had kissed him, and he hadn’t freaked out. I had kissed him because…

Because he was brilliant.

I hurried as much as I could to get myself a tall glass of water and put out the fire that raged inside of me. The apartment was swaying around me, but that wasn’t exactly a novel sensation. What was new was the arhythmic thundering of my heart.

I’d kissed Everett because Everett had promised to help me fight. In that instant, when debate was settled behind his eyes, he was the most attractive he had ever been. He wasn’t that angry guy in search of someone to hate-fuck, but a knight in shining armor, a hero, a rebel like me. He had been irresistible.

I had an aspirin with my water just for shits and giggles, then a cold shower to jump-start my basic cognitive functions. When I was done, I paced around the apartment, my phone burning up in my hands as I tapped out all my thoughts. Well, all the important ones that related to Neon Nights. There were plenty of other thoughts that persistently converged around the warm, soft lips of a guy I couldn’t stop dreaming about.

I wished I had his phone number. Or even a surname to look him up, really. It was a cold reminder that I knew nothing about Everett.Nothing except that nobody makes you want to collapse on the floor at a single glance from him. Nothing except that the tragedy of the half-life he had lived in the shadows makes you want to cuddle him. Nothing except the fact that he’s constantly on your mind. I wanted to see him.

Digging through the moments of the previous night, I remembered his promise to come to Neon Nights early to forge plans with us. He needed to meet Tristan and Cedric, Madison, Oakley, Lane, Rafael, and Luke. He needed to meet Martha, who would love to hear what Everett knew about turning places into landmarks.

I reformed my notes into a checklist, pacing all the same. The sun was climbing fast, and time was running out. By the time my stomach rumbled with hunger, I had sent out the messages to everyone I could think of except Everett. I just had to trust he would find a way to show up.

The day began to drag after I’d had my breakfast. My hangover was fading, but the exhaustion that followed an afternoon of drinking and a night of crappy, alcohol-soaked sleep was setting in. I napped for what felt like three hours but only lasted twenty minutes. And the worst of all was that I couldn’t stop replaying that kiss.

What if I’d pushed him too hard and too fast? What if he’d trusted me to be his friend, and I gave in to the temptation the very first time I got drunk?

I worried about that sexy stranger far more than I had imagined.

I didn’t want to be his little experiment anymore. That was all fine before we knew each other’s names and before we bared our souls to one another. Now, things had changed. Now, I wanted to be hiseverything. Or his nothing.

That small, nasty thought stung as I lay in my bed and covered my eyes with my forearm. I hoped it would go there, but I wasn’t sure I could be just friends with Everett. Not when even the merest thought of him filled my stomach with butterflies, set fire to my lower abdomen, and made me press my thighs together with a mixture of eagerness and anticipation. This fearfulness was new to me, but it felt good. It felt like it mattered if I was afraid of blowing it.

We met at Mama Viv’s at six. I was the first to show up, and Mama Viv was still trembling, her voice cracking, her movements quick and deliberate but leading nowhere. Tristan and Cedric came just a few minutes later, followed by Martha, then Rafael and Luke. Madison couldn’t come this afternoon,but he promised to help however he could. Everett was probably on his way already.

“Very well,” Mama Viv said in an airy, nervous voice. “Should we do this in the sitting room?”

The room, much like the entire apartment, was a vibrant blend of vintage and maximalist design. One wall was completely adorned with framed photos chronicling the entire history of Neon Nights, with Mama Viv at the center of it all. Surrounding her in each image were friends, lovers, protégés, and wards in a rich tapestry of memories. A long ottoman flanked by matching armchairs sat around a central coffee table. The remaining walls were lined with bookcases brimming with eclectic reads. Windows offered a view of the terrace of Neon Nights, bringing a touch of the outside world into this nostalgic sanctuary.

“Let me make some coffee for everyone,” Cedric said. His voice was hangover deep like mine, and his offer to make coffee was enough to earn him sainthood. He knew his way around Mama Viv’s place because he had lived here for a time while hiding his identity.

“Would you, darling?” Mama Viv said gratefully.

Martha and Tristan sat down. Rafael and Luke joined them, one on the ottoman and the other in an armchair. Mama Viv, who wore a black lace gown with a silky underlay and extraordinarily long sleeves, stood by a bookshelf, one hand resting on the shelf, the other on the satin belt that cinched her waist. I couldn’t get myself to sit still, either, so I walked around the sitting room.

“It’s hopeless,” Mama Viv said.

Sighs went around the room.

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