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Scrubbing my palm over my nose, I glared up at him.
“Your reflexes are slower, Julietta. Perhaps we should resume our training sessions.” His lips curled to one side.
Ignoring the tingling sensation his grin caused on my body, I shook my head. “My reflexes are great.”
Romero lifted his brows before nodding. Call me crazy, but for a moment, I almost thought he looked disappointed. “I ordered the pizza. It should be here any minute. Do you want to get started? We might be able to make it through a few episodes.”
“Yeah, sure.”
* * *
By the time the doorbell rang, we’d watched the first episode. I was hooked on the disgusting way the protagonist portrayed himself the innocent party, while Romero every so often would snort a laugh.
We ate the steaming-hot pizza, arguing plot holes and the stupidity of both the guy and the girl. It was so painfully easy, that as the night wore on, I found myself curled up next to him—just a few inches apart.
His heat was soothing, but his subtle cologne was intoxicating. My eyelids grew heavy, and though the show was exactly what I’d been missing, they eventually drooped. What felt like only minutes later, I was roused by Romero gently shaking me.
My instincts made every inch of my body jerk, and Romero smartly withdrew. “It’s okay, cariña. Go on up to bed. You have an early day ahead of you.”
It took me a moment to realize my head was resting against his chest. I sat up, sliding away from the warmth that had lulled me to sleep.
“Shit,” I mumbled. “Sorry.”
I heard him mutter something as I stumbled upstairs. After collapsing onto the bed, I tried to fall back asleep, but instead I tossed and turned. It wasn’t until the early hours of morning when exhaustion finally claimed me.
* * *
Orientation was as boring as I’d expected it to be, but at least I made it on time. A mug of coffee had been left on the kitchen counter when I’d scrambled out of bed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Romero had left it for me, or if the new housekeeper had.
I yawned for the thirtieth time while wandering through the packed bookstore. Without my first student loan payout, I couldn’t afford the books brand-new. But as long as all the relevant pages were in them, I didn’t give a shit.
After paying for the books and taking a tour of the building, I climbed into my Corolla. The sounds it had made on the way to school had me on edge. When the engine turned over after the third try, I let out a sigh of relief.
If I could just get the damn thing back to Romero’s, then maybe he could see what was making the horrid grinding noise.
And I got to hear every squeal, sputter, and clang it made on the drive through town since the radio had died a month after I bought the death trap.
Sitting at a red light, I noticed a thin stream of dark smoke coming from beneath the hood. The guy next to me kept animatedly pointing to it, like I couldn’t fucking see right in front of my face. I flipped him off, and when the light turned green, I eased my foot off the brake. The car jolted once, backfiring so loud I jumped. “Come on, Lizzy!” I shouted.
And with that, the poor bitch died.
Horns sounded behind me, people fed up with my sitting at a green light. I unleashed a long string of curses as I fished my phone out of my pocket. The sticker in the window had the number for the tow company used by my insurance agency.
I dialed it quickly before grabbing my bag and stepping out onto the busy street. Better be standing on the curb than sitting inside if someone decided to rear-end it.
The call was lengthy, as all insurance dealings were, and they kindly informed me that it would still be a four-hundred-dollar upfront cost.
Which was everything in my checking and savings. Two hundred of it was meant to be the payment to my insurance company, but what was the point of paying them if I didn’t have a car to drive, right?
I plopped onto the grass just beyond the sidewalk to wait and twirled my phone in my hands. Maybe I should’ve just called Romero?
No, I didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.
Part of me knew he would have dropped everything to make sure I was taken care of. But I was trying to prove that I was a competent adult, not a girl who needed to run to her stepdad every time something bad happened.
With a sigh, I pulled out my worn copy of a smutty romance novel I reread over and over, letting myself get lost in forbidden love while my own life crumbled around me.
Chapter Three
