Page 32 of Forbidden Romeo

“Will I…” I swallow down the sudden nerves. “Will I see you again?”

He finally turns to look at me. There’s a hunger in his eyes I recognize from last night. Now, as he looks at my soaking wet, naked body, it makes me flush.

“You will call me when you get home safe,” he replies.

“I don’t have your number,” I counter.

He smirks, grabbing a pen from the side and scribbling something down on a napkin. “You do now.”

“Okay. But…”

Jack strides over and crouches down by the poolside. I have to stand on my toes to kiss him goodbye.

“Don’t worry, Aimee. We’ll see each other again.”

***

Despite his reassurances, when Jack leaves, I can’t help but feel completely out of my depth. It’s like a drowning sensation in my throat as if I’m watching him walk away forever, and I’m helpless to stop it.

It’s pathetic, and I tell myself as much as I get out of the pool and head for the bathroom to shower. There’s no reason for me to feel this intensely about someone I only met yesterday. It doesn’t matter how good the sex is.

In the shower, I come face-to-face with one of the most complicated systems to turn on a stream of water that I have ever seen. After attempting to wash my hair in something called ‘violet steam’ and accidentally setting off what felt like jet washers on my feet, I finally find a setting that seems relatively normal. Only to face my next problem: which of the thousands of bath products lined up should I even be using?

By the time I leave the bathroom again, it’s almost midday. The products I didn’t use up go straight into my bag to stock up my own bathroom back home. Jack did say to make myself at home, after all. Freebies are freebies.

Besides, if, for some reason, Roisin isn’t sound asleep when I get home, I can definitely use them to bribe her. I do feel a little guilty about not texting her where I was or who I was with. She could be sitting at home right now worrying about me. But that means she’d have to notice I wasn’t back already, which, considering how late she stays out usually, isn’t hugely likely. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I make my way home.

I scramble as quietly as I can to find my apartment keys and slot them in carefully. The old door gives out a comically loud ‘squeak’ as I open it, and I wince before stepping through.

I immediately glance at Roisin’s door. Closed. Good, that means she’s probably still in bed. If she’s in a deep enough sleep, the door probably won’t have woken her up…

“Good morning!”

Shit.

I turn to see Roisin leaning against the kitchen counter, coffee in hand. I don’t bother correcting her that it’s past midday; by the looks of things, she’s only just woken up herself.

“Morning,” I mumble.

“Good night?”

I nod sheepishly. “Yes, the musical was fantastic, Roshe. Congratulations.”

“It sucked, and you know it.” She looks me up and down, no doubt taking in the crumpled dress I wore the night before. “I thought you were heading home?”

“I… got a little sidetracked?” I reply tentatively.

Luckily, on the spectrum of concern and amusement, Roisin seems to be leaning toward the latter. “Was it the sound technician?”

I gag a little. “No, it wasn’t the sound technician, Jesus.”

“Then who?”

I hesitate a moment. There’s no way she’d believe me even if I told her. But if I don’t give her all the details now, she’ll get the story out of me one way or another.

“There was an agent who came by looking for you,” I concede.

Roisin’s eyes go wide. “For me? Oh my god, was it Chris fromtalentZ? Douglas said he might show up, but I didn’t think he’d actually come. Oh my God, did he say anything about me?”

---