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Etta looks back at me, confused as to why I’ve stopped. “What’s wrong?”
Shit. I search around for any reason that would even remotely make sense, and wouldn’t offend her. I want to tell her the truth, but I’m almost positive she isn’t ready to hear it. That any confession of feelings would send her running for the hills, or at best, she wouldn’t believe me.
“I—“
A light flares overhead, so bright and surprising it’s almost blinding. I blink, startled, and instinctively flip Etta’s skirt down, fumbling to shove my dick back in my pants.
It takes me a moment to realize no one is screaming or cursing. No one is trying to punch me in the face.
I turn slowly and find Catalina Minola standing in the doorway of the kitchen wearing some kind of plastic bag over her hair and a giant t-shirt as a dress. She raises a pink paint brush at me like a sword and scowls. “Um, what the fuck am I seeing right now?”
ChapterSeventeen
ETTA
Every muscle in my body tenses as I make eye-contact with Cat over Roman’s shoulder. She has black dye dripping down the side of her face out of her shower cap, and is brandishing a dye brush at us like a weapon. Her expression reads violence, and I suddenly regret more than anything not making more of an effort to talk to her about this.
“Hey…” I say, knowing it’s not nearly enough.
“Again, what the fuck am I looking at?” she says. “I’m honestly hoping my gummies were laced with something, because that would make the most sense right now.”
“It’s not what you’re looking at, it’s what you’re doing, which is cock-blocking…” Roman mutters.
I roll my eyes. I’m 90% sure he’s joking. Actually, as we’ve spoken to each other more in the last few days than we did in the combined fifteen years prior, I’ve started to wonder if he actually just has a very deadpan sense of humor that teenage me was a little too sensitive to understand. Not that it excuses his behavior, but in retrospect, maybe he wasn’t so much “bullying” me as “teasing,” me. Potato/Po-tah-to, I guess.
Cat does not seem to understand he’s joking, and her expression turns feral. I need to head this off before things get ugly and I have another feud on my hands. “Alright, maybe we should just calm down.” I look at Roman a bit helplessly. “Let’s just call it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nods, but I can still see the mischief in his gaze. He glances at Cat, before smacking me on the ass as he walks out. “See you tomorrow, good girl. Remember, no tights.”
Cat’s eyes bug out of her head, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing I could simply melt into the floor. “Do you have any more of those gummies? You might want to prepare for this conversation.”
* * *
The following day, I sit in class, staring into space as my professor rattles off something about the most recent reading: Percy Shelley’sQueen Mab.
My mind is elsewhere. Specifically, on Roman and on what Cat must think of me after the catastrophe last night. I fidget with the strap of my bag. Then, abruptly, I realize the room has gone silent.
Confused, I look up and my stomach drops out. Everyone is staring at me.
My eyes fly to the professor, and he gives me an expectant nod. Shit. Apparently, it’s my turn to contribute to the roundtable and I don’t have a clue what’s going on or what’s already been said.
“Uh…” Heat rises to my face as I scramble for literally anything to say. “Uh, I think that while Mab is most often a representation of dreams in a literal sense, for instance in chapter thirty-one of Melville’s Moby Dick, I think here Shelley is using her to mean dreams in a figurative way. Like utopia. A dream of revolution.”
I relax as the professor grunts his lukewarm approval. “I think we’ll end there today.”
My face is still flaming with embarrassment when I step into the hallway five minutes later, and find Roman Montague leaning against the wall waiting for me. “Well, look who it is, the queen of dreams.” He raises a fist in the air. “Viva la revolution.”
I scowl. “What, are you stalking me now?”
His eyes flash with amusement. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”
I stop in my tracks, genuine alarm in my voice. “Yes!”
Roman moves away from the wall and falls into step beside me. “Don’t worry, good girl. As much as I enjoy looking at you, I only just happened to hear the end of that.” He grins with mischief. “It wasn’t theworstanswer I’ve ever heard, but then again I have taken classes with Pierce, so...”
“We can’t walk together. I thought I was going to see you tomorrow.”
“I decided I don’t care.”
