Page 66 of The Plus One Pact

"Then what are we going to do for thirty minutes?" I ask.

He smiles. "It's a surprise."

Of course, with the guest bedroom to ourselves, I expect certain activities. Instead, Romeo asks me to close my eyes and arranges something on the big, clean desk.

A small stack of paperbacks.

"These are all the books I actually read in high school." He motions to the bookshelf in the corner. "Those first two rows are all the books I didn't read."

“Was this your room?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Mom wanted people to think she raised readers, so she moved all our books here. Well, she asked me and Daniel to move the books here.”

There's a lot of the usual suspects. Steinbeck and Mark Twain went unread. To Kill a Mockingbird and Catcher in the Rye made it. As well as a fat stack of plays, including Romeo and Juliet.

"Was it torture, reading this?" I pick up the slim book. "Or did you enjoy the attention?"

"I loved it." He looks at me. "That was the only part of English class I enjoyed. Reading lines in plays. So, when I had the opportunity to take the staring role, well, why not?"

"Do you like the character?" I ask.

"Romeo?" His hand brushes mine as he borrows the book. "Do you?"

"I asked first."

He smiles. "He's a bit of a fuckboy."

A laugh escapes my lips. "That's not a no."

His eyes find mine. They fill with that easy charm, but I can't tell if it's a put-on or not this time. "Do I seem that way?"

"Honestly?" I'm not quite sure where we stand with this half ruse, half sex-as-payment situation. This isn't either. So, we should be on even ground. And with friends, I try to deliver the truth, gently.

"Is it that bad?" There's a lightness to his voice. He knows I'm teasing.

So, I lean into it. "Worse."

His smile widens. "Hit me with your best shot, doc."

"I bet you played the part well."

"I did. I didn't like him though. He was too flighty. Who's willing to die for a girl he met three days ago?"

"Someone in love."

"Do you really believe that?" he asks.

No, I don't. At my age, I believe in a steadier kind of love. Something more patient. Less all-consuming. "An infatuated teenager.”

He nods. "Maybe I've always lacked that. I love many people. My brother, my friends, my family. But I've never fallen in love." He looks to me, studying my expression. "And you? Only your ex or others?"

"My high school boyfriend too."

He flips to a highlighted page. "I'd like if we stayed honest with each other. As much as possible."

"How much is possible?" I ask.

"You don't have to share your darkest secrets," he says. "But it would be nice to know, we're alone, and we're not hiding things from each other."