Page 126 of Broken Romeo

“We have a show to do,” she reminded me pointedly. “I need my Romeo to be able to use both his arms.”

Shit.

I inhaled sharply, doing my best to refocus my thoughts away from Kate’s gorgeous porcelain skin and back on our conversation.

My shoulder.

The show.

“It’ll be fine in a week,” I said, though I’m not sure I believe myself. If tonight was any indication of my acting skills, Professor McCay had it all wrong casting me as the fucking lead. I gave her a reassuring smile. Or at least, what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry about me, Freshman.”

“Stop that,” she snapped, scowling in a way that I’m sure was meant to be menacing, but left me chuckling.

A few silent beats passed between us and she closed her eyes, taking long deep breaths in and out. I utilized my time to stare at her as the water between us churned like a building tornado.

Her bathing suit was seemingly innocent. The bikini showed me more of her body than I’d seen all semester. It was white and in the water like we were, it would have been see-through except for the strategically placed red roses on it.

When I lifted my gaze back to her face, her bright cobalt eyes were wide open, set right on me. Caught red-handed staring at her beautiful tits bobbing beneath the water’s edge.

I was caught and yet I refused to break the stare first. Her eyes were too mesmerizing that even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t. I was locked in like some erotic Jedi mind trick.

I wanted to tell her everything.

I wanted to spill my guts. Reveal who I was. What I’d been doing. How I’d been bankrolling her for the last couple weeks. I didn’t want to lie to Katherine anymore, my Juliet.

My Rose.

I gulped and opened my mouth as a voice shouted in my brain, Tell her you fucking pussy! Man up and accept the consequences of your choices.

“Rose,” I whispered.

Kate’s face blanched, the beautiful flush draining from her cheeks. “Excuse me?”

I wasn’t sure if it was the ghostly shade of her face or the way her lips parted in a gasp or the croak of her voice, but for that one second, she knew. She knew who I was. She knew she was my Rose and I was her Light.

And then, I chickened out.

“Those roses are dangerous,” I croaked. Then, just to make sure there wasn’t any thought that I was her panty buyer, I gestured to her bathing suit and added, “On your bathing suit. Roses.”

With a laugh, she shook her head, the spell broken. “Right. Of course.”

“You love roses,” I said, stating the obvious.

“I do.”

“What is it you love about them?”

She paused to think for a long moment. I loved that she did that. I loved that Katherine didn’t just give me any old perfunctory answer. She took the time to dig deep and really consider her words before speaking.

“The smell,” she finally answered. “I was really close with my grandmother and she had this incredible rose garden,” I say, recalling the bitter-sweet memory. “She read me Romeo and Juliet for the first time, too. She loved Shakespeare. Loved the theater.”

“So that’s where it all began.”

“I guess so. I even use the same rose oil she used to use.”

Rose oil.

A smile lifted at the corners of my mouth.