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“If I’m doing anything after school, it’s finding a job.”
“I hear that,” I mumbled.
He raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe the ice cream shop connected to the drive-in theater for the summer? That could be fun.” Fun and keep me out of the house until late.
“Fun huh?” He slipped his arm around my shoulders and I soaked up his warmth.
The soft patter of Vienna’s heels over the tile was the only warning I had before she plowed into us from behind. “Ugh, Diane is such an uber bitch. You were smart to run.”
Laughing, I shrugged her arm off my shoulder.
Roman frowned. “She say something to you?”
“No,” I answered quickly. I didn’t want Vienna to repeat Diane’s comments about Roman.
“Maybe we can drown her on our class trip.” Vienna skipped ahead, raising her arms in the air. “Another tragedy at Fletcher Park, news at eleven.” Her eyes widened and she stopped dead in front of us. “Or we could push her over the cliff.” She mimed pushing someone and watching them fall. “Weeeeee, splat!”
“You’re terrible,” I scoffed, stepping around her and linking hands with Roman again.
“What class trip?” he asked.
“Oh, you’ll be thrilled, lover boy,” Vienna sang, hurrying to catch up to us. “You’ll get to ogle your girl in a bikini all afternoon.”
Roman raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
Laughing nervously, I pushed Vienna. “I’m so not wearing a two-piece in front of these cretins.”
“Not even for me?” Roman teased.
“Maybe. If you ask me nicely.”
“Later!” Vienna waggled her fingers at us and took off running down the hall.
Roman and I strolled into art class a few minutes before the bell and sat in our usual spots. Chloe and Jameson, another couple in our grade, sat across from us, eagerly discussing their prom plans. I shifted uncomfortably. I hadn’t brought up prom because I figured there was no way Roman could afford to go and I didn’t want to make him feel bad.
Under the table, he found my hand and twined our fingers together. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Do you have a date for prom?”
“What? No.” How could he ask me that?
Then I looked into his laughing green eyes and knew he was only teasing. He winked but didn’t have a chance to add anything to our conversation. Mr. Broom started class.
Naturally, Roman and I had worked on our photography projects together. He’d taken an embarrassingly large number of photos of me for his assignment.
He also had a talent for capturing breathtaking landscapes and pretty much anything else he turned his lens on.
After the introductory lecture, Roman leaned over. “How do you feel about sticking around after class?”
A tingle of excitement zipped through me. “Sounds good. Are you allowed to?” I whispered back, making sure to keep my voice low. Enough rumors about Roman had been spread around the school without me adding to them.
“I have special permission for this project,” he assured me.
That Roman sought out permission from the counselors—when I knew how much he hated asking anyone for anything—just to spend time with me meant a lot.
Mr. Broom seemed oblivious to why maybe two teenagers shouldn’t be left alone in a darkroom together without supervision, but yet, he did.
Not just us either.
Other kids used the space to get high. Roman and I had no interest in drugs.
We were too high on each other.
Chapter Fifteen
Roman
My photography project really did need to be finished, but it was impossible to concentrate around Juliet. Not in the sexy dress I’d been admiring since the moment I saw her this morning. It appeared to be see-through but wasn’t. Trust me, I’d been staring holes through it all day long.
We focused on finishing her photos first, before moving to mine. That way if we ran out of time, she wouldn’t be late turning in her assignment. Of course I didn’t phrase it that way. Then she’d insist on me going first and I just wasn’t that kind of guy.
She always came first.
While we waited for the photos to develop, she perched on the counter, swinging her legs and lightly tapping the cabinets below with her heels.
The project was to make something that scares you look beautiful. Working on the assignment together gave us a chance to learn more about each other. I’d discovered Juliet was terrified of bees. So we spent a couple afternoons in the park photographing honeybees as they buzzed from flower to flower.
“This one’s too fuzzy,” she said, pointing to a half-processed picture hanging in front of her.
“It’s too soon to tell.”
“I think I understand why the world moved to digital photography,” she grumbled.
“You’re cute.”
She scrunched up her nose at me, only proving my point.
I stepped in between her legs, resting my hands at a spot right above her knees, pushing her dress up to run my hands over her soft skin. Those amazing little legs of hers wrapped around me, pulling me closer.
