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As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t avoid looking at him. It was a bitterly unfair fact of nature that the infuriating man was just too beautiful to ignore.
“I was thinking pizza for dinner,” he said, pinning me with those bottomless eyes. I turned my back, pulling out neatly folded clothes that were worn and faded. “That new psychological thriller is on Netflix. I thought we could watch that.” He must’ve turned his intense gaze on my best friend, who might as well have gone weak in the knees with how flushed she became. “Will you be joining us, Arie?”
She was fumbling over a yes when I cut her off. “Don’t you have some society dinner for Yale tonight?”
Her jaw snapped shut. She cast me a glare, then sighed. “Shit. I guess I do. Rain check, Mr. Vazquez?”
“‘Romero’ is fine,” he said politely. “And yes, I’m sure we can arrange something.”
Placing my shirts into a single pile, I waited for him to leave.
Instead, he said, “What about you, Julietta? I know you love a good thriller.”
I ground my teeth together. Yes, I did love thrillers. And comedies. Our Friday night tradition was pizza and a movie. But I wasn’t the same girl that left home two years ago. I was a woman about to start college, and the weird way my body was reacting to him made our easy times together seem inappropriate.
“No thanks. I have too much to do.”
Arie scoffed. “Everything you own is in these three boxes. I washed all your clothes last night, so what could you possibly have going tonight? You don’t have work until Thursday.”
Glaring at my best friend, I leaned close. “I have to be up early for orientation.”
With a playful laugh, she bumped her hip against mine. “It starts at ten. Just enjoy yourself.” She stuck her bottom lip out, making her brown eyes glassy and somehow bigger than they already were. “Please?”
After a tense moment of silence, I growled, “Fine.”
Romero clapped his hands together. “Right, so half sausage, half supreme?”
Pasting on a placating smile, I said, “Yep.” The faux cheer in my voice made me sound like a serial killer, but I didn’t care.
Romero, entirely unaffected by my sour mood, shot me a disarming grin before heading back into the hall.
I let out a heavy breath. Arie turned to me, perfectly manicured brow lifted, and folded her arms across her chest. “What is your deal?” she whispered.
My throat felt suddenly tight. “Just because we live together, doesn’t mean we need to be friends.” Arie knew a lot about how my mother died. She knew I blamed Romero for her death, even though he didn’t give my mom the drugs she used to kill herself.
But he let her leave that morning. She had been gone all day without checking in and he didn’t rush out to find her. Who knows, maybe she still would have died even if he’d torn the city apart. But he hadn’t tried. He knew what the behavior shift had meant, and still he’d let her leave.
I never would have let her walk out the door that morning. If I had known, I’d have locked her in the house with me. It’s not like I hadn’t done it before.
Arie’s gaze softened, and she pulled me into a hug. My body went rigid. Touching always freaked me out, but Arie was determined to get me to like hugging.
“Give him a chance, J. The poor guy has probably felt awful since you moved out.” Checking her phone, she sucked in a sharp breath. “My mom’s going to blow up my phone in about thirty minutes. I should go.”
I knew for a fact that her special dinner was not for four more hours, but I didn’t push the subject. I nodded, squeezing her hand in mine. “Thank you for everything, Arie.”
She smiled. “I’m proud of you, girl.”
With another departing hug, she left me in the big, empty house with Romero Vazquez.
I pulled out the envelopes at the bottom of the open box and tossed them onto the desk beneath the window. My bills were all sent to Arie’s house and I’d had her stuff them in the two boxes that she let me keep there.
Knowing full well how much money I was expected to pay, I didn’t bother looking at my mail. The health insurance offered by Jean’s Shoes and Repairs was almost criminal. All it took was getting jumped once for the hospital bills to be insurmountable. When I was found with a fractured wrist and bloodied face, the officer had insisted I be seen, despite my protests. And somehow, I hadn’t ended up in foster care, being seventeen and homeless.
I glanced at the other boxes Romero had stacked, letting the thoughts of my past fade into the back of my mind. Tomorrow, I told myself. I had the outfit I planned to wear to orientation tomorrow. Grabbing my book bag, I rifled through the binders and supplies I’d bought just this afternoon with Arie.
After reorganizing all of it, I set the bag on my desk and sighed. I couldn’t put it off any longer. It was just after five, which meant movie night would soon start.
Steeling my spine, I stalked toward the hall, only for my face to collide with a solid chest clad in expensive fabric. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, forcing me back a step. My muffled grunt of pain mingled with Romero’s apology.
