Page 10 of Worth the Trouble

His eyebrows pull together at my question, but I’m not sure why he seems confused. “Flattered you’re curious.”

“It’s called making pleasantries.” I roll my eyes.

Did I really just roll my eyes?

I know better than to let people gain any kind of reaction from me. Annoyed or otherwise. And the way his grin widens means he caught the reaction and he’s feeding off it.

“Rome.” He tips his chin. “And you are?”

“Lili.”

He nods once, and I’m not sure why I feel nervous all of a sudden.

“And what do you do, Rome?” I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring him, or protecting myself from him. Who knows, except that I can’t escape the flutter that kicked up when I said his name. Even if I don’t appreciate that he seems to enjoy bothering me for his own amusement.

Rome laughs loud. He tips his head back like he needs to make more space for it. I’m not sure why he thinks everything I ask is funny, but it’s grinding on my nerves.

When he catches his breath, he shakes his head and looks at me once more with those eyes that might as well be oblivion because they drag me to a place where there’s no escaping.

“I play music,” he says.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He smiles. “Apparently not.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but it feels like a jab. It’s no secret that I’ve always been a little sheltered, so I’m probably not familiar with whatever genre Rome’s music falls into.

“Are you in a band?” Now I can’t help myself because I’m genuinely curious.

He nods his head. “Enemy Muse.”

“Interesting name.” I tip my head the slightest. “It’s a dichotomy.”

“That it is.” He winks, and it shoots straight through me.

I roll my shoulders back and hope he doesn’t notice I’m feeling off balance.

It’s just hunger, anyway. People don’t tilt me off my axis; I don’t allow them that kind of power. It’s the lack of calories after a long day. That’s all. I’ll get home, eat my final meal of the night, and everything will settle.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, but I should get going.”

I move to step around him, but he wraps a hand around my elbow, making me pause. It’s not that his grip is hard, if anything, he’s barely holding on. But his calloused fingertips on my skin freeze me in place.

“It’s barely eight.” His eyebrows pinch.

I’m sure to him it sounds early. But the fact that it’s almost eight means I’m already behind on my schedule. Food this late won’t sit well, and with the drive home, there’s no way I’ll be in bed before ten. Which means I’ll no doubt wake up tired, and Mom will once more focus on the circles under my eyes.

No distractions.

But that’s what Rome is. A giant distraction. It doesn’t take me knowing much about him to see that.

“Exactly.” I pull my arm from his grip and step around him. “I’m already running late.”

Instead of leaving it at that, Rome falls in step beside me as I make my way to my car.

“Got a hot date or something?”

“Is that your not-so-subtle way of asking if I have a boyfriend?” I lift an eyebrow at him but don’t stop walking.

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