Page 6 of Romeo vs Romeo

And Roman…

Nobody was as sure of himself as Roman. He just didn’t care. And I was jealous of him the most.

When God created us, he gave Roman all the courage, and none was left to be given to me. So Roman could stroll around like a peacock, and I had to hide in the shadows. Roman could act however the hell he wanted, and I had to be embarrassed about being seen at that bar, even by its regular patrons.

That night, I stalked away with my tail tucked between my legs. I didn’t go back to apologize. My apologies would mean to him even less than his meant to me. So I returned home and surrendered to another sleepless night.

CHAPTER 2

Head Against the Wall

Everett

I splashedmy face with cool water, washed it clean, and stung myself with the aftershave. Lifting my torso upright, I looked at the mirror and the ghost that looked back at me. His cheeks were sunken, dark circles blotted around his eyes, and his blond hair was a mess of locks standing in different directions.At least I’m shaved, I thought victoriously.

It was no laughing matter. For the past three or four days, dragging myself out of bed was enough to celebrate.

Even thinking about my bed made me want to return to it. I had my phone there, my laptop, my tablet, my Kindle, and my paperbacks. I had a pantry full of snacks I could drag into my room so as not to starve. If I were really dedicated, I could spend the entire day without running into another soul. God knew the penthouse was large enough that we barely ever crossed paths by chance. My parents were occupied. They had always been occupied.

I might have jinxed myself there.

Just as I dragged a pair of shorts on and pulled the bathroom door open, I heard them. Mother and Father, discussing something quietly.

The bathroom door opened, and their words fell away. Mother looked at me, her pointy chin lifting, head tilting a little on her long, slender neck. “Well, look who decided to wake up. And it’s not even noon yet.”

“Leave the boy alone, Lavinia,” Father said in a high and raspy voice. It was the voice he used to control a room.

“He’s hardly still a boy, Harold,” Mother said.

“Precisely,” Father agreed while I stood there like an idiot. “He is a young man, and it’s perfectly natural that he should be a night owl. Tell us, son, have you been with Annabeth last night?”

“Sure.” I hadn’t seen Annabeth in three months. “Is there coffee?”

“Am I a maid now as well as a mother?” my mother asked.

I ignored it and proceeded to inspect the coffee maker. There was enough for three-quarters of a mug, and I emptied the pot.

“And put a shirt on. You’re not at a beach,” Mother said tightly.

I slurped hot coffee. “I forgot to bring it.”

“Leave him be, Lavinia,” Father droned on. “The young, they’re so in love with their own youth. It’s natural.”

Mother turned away as though looking at me made her uncomfortable. “What should I tell Maria, then?” she asked my father, who frowned in confusion. “About lunch, Harold.”

“Oh, no, I will not stay for lunch,” Father replied. “I must meet Jacobs from Urban Planning, and if all goes well, I won’t be back before dinner.”

“Will you eat anything today?” Mother asked, her head directed halfway between my father and me. That was as far as she would look. I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

I shrugged.

“What is the matter with you?” Mother asked in a tight huff. “Can’t you speak?”

“Lavinia,” Father said, although it was more habitual than intended. “I must go.” He picked up his things from the kitchen counter and stood up. “You should invite Annabeth to dinner one of these days. She is a fine girl, Everett.”

“Will do,” I said and slurped some more, stalking back to my room.

The last time I had spoken to Annabeth, it was to break up with her. It followed a very strict pattern of dating a girl for six weeks and discovering that it wasn’t meant to be. In those six weeks, we would go on dates, we would share a kiss, she’d tell me I was a great listener, and things would progress in a way that inevitably led to much more than a peck on the lips. I’d done that. I’d done a lot of it. I never wanted to do it again. Not with girls who meant nothing to me, no matter how much I tried to make myself feel otherwise.

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