Page 24 of Roman and Jules
In her lyrics, she couldn’t part with him. Every distraction stopped them from separating; they called each other back and forgot the reason why, always having one last thing to say.
“Goodnight, goodnight! Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Jules sang. “Then I’ll say goodnight till it’s tomorrow.” She laughed over the words, because it reminded her of what she’d done with Roman. In her song, the couple just couldn’t get away from each other, talking and laughing and stealing kisses, and so when morning broke, it certainly was a “good night.” Though it wasn’t quite the same thing with Roman, she hadn’t parted with him either. No, she’d gotten in way over her head.
The ideas for the song just kept coming. Jules made notations on her notepad, talking to herself like she did when she was deep in creation mode. She muttered something about Roman’s name and how it didn’t rhyme with anything good, but that was okay because she didn’t want to give away that the song was about him anyway. She tried out a few different names when she was interrupted.
“That’s the song you sang last night.”
Jules sucked in her breath when she saw Roman leaning on the glass doors, and her cheeks burned. What exactly had she said aloud and what had he overheard? Too much—judging by his grin.
“I’m sorry if I’m offending your ears,” she said. “The creative process isn’t pretty.”
“Oh, it’s very pretty,” he said with a wink. His admiring gaze ran over her and showed her exactly what he meant.
She blushed.
As if to change the subject, he held up two plates of his kung pao chicken and her stomach rumbled at the smell. She hadn’t known she was so hungry. “That’s about Romeo and Juliet, right?” he asked. It was safer to admit that and so she nodded. “Or is it about Roman and Jules?” he added cheekily.
She burst out in a laugh. He was shameless. She desperately tried to find something else to talk about. “If I’d known you were a chef, I’d have married you sooner, like before we’d met.”
He smiled and set her plate on a marbled table in front of her, though he stopped her before she set her guitar aside and sat next to her. “No, you’ve got to play our song all the way through for me first.”
“Oh really? You’re making me play for my supper now?”
“Sure, let’s make it a tradition.”
She knocked him back with her shoulder. “You’ll be sorry.”
He rubbed his arm, pretending to be deeply wounded before he relaxed back in the love seat and put his arm around her. “No, no, even after you touching me, I’m still not sorry. Maybe even less than before.”
Roman lost no opportunity to flirt with her. Shaking her head, she brought her hand back to her guitar and ran her fingers across the strings. He seemed mesmerized by the sight of her ring as much as she was, though she was probably imagining it. She sang their song, keeping the melody as light and cute as she’d meant it, but then something changed in the middle somewhere. It was a lot more romantic than she’d thought. Almost wistful. How had that happened?
His brows drew in and he pulled forward, resting his chin over his closed fist as he watched her fingers slide down the frets. The last of her lyrics left her lips and seemed to float in the air between them in the sudden silence.
She didn’t know where that depth of feeling came from; she’d almost forgotten herself as much as she had last night, but she shouldn’t. Bad boys didn’t fall in love. No, Ty was the sensible one, who helped out with charities and ran his mother’s business. Between the two men, he’d be the one who’d take her seriously.
Roman’s fist left his chin and he reached past the kung pao chicken and ran the back of his hand down her cheek. Her skin tingled at the contact, and she realized that she wasn’t the only one who’d fallen under the spell of their song. Was he going to kiss her? Again?
She wanted him to… but no, she didn’t. Shouldn’t. Her eyes lifted to his and they searched hers like he was trying to read her. Her mouth opened in a protest that didn’t leave her lips because she couldn’t utter the lie—shedidwant him to touch her. He closed his mouth firmly and a tick worked in his jaw until he snatched his hand back. “That was beautiful.” It came out strangled and he smirked and cleared his throat. “Let’s take the food inside. We’ll play a game while we eat.”
She set the guitar aside and picked up the plate. It was for the best. They couldn’t confuse their relationship further. He held the door open for her, his whole face stiff like she was torturing him.
That made her smile because he was doing the same thing to her. “Cheer up,” she said, and with great daring, touched his bristly jaw, liking the rough feel of it under her fingertips.
She probably shouldn’t have done it, because he caught her hand and pulled her closer like he’d reached the end of his resistance. “Hey.” His dark brows lowered as he took her in, and then he settled for a kiss on her cheek. “Let’s make this a ‘good night’ we never forget.” Too late, she realized how much he’d listened to her lyrics.
If he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure how much she could keep back the stirrings in her heart, but he spared her the dilemma by guiding her to the bowling balls. When he’d said a game, she’d thought something less active, but bowling was the perfect distraction, even if she was a lousy player. Her cheek felt hot where his lips had touched her moments before.
She settled into her seat in front of the bowling lane and noticed that he expected her to eat the kung pao chicken with chopsticks. She held them up and squinted one-eyed at them. “I’m not this coordinated.”
“Sure you are!” He sat on the other side of her and picked up his own chopsticks. “See?” He expertly stole a mouthful of food with them. “Delicious.”
“That doesn’t help me.”
“Oh, let me.” He captured more of her food with his chopsticks and fed her this time.
She almost choked over her sputtering laughter. “You can’t do that with my whole meal.”
“Just watch me.”
