Page 23 of Broken Romeo
She startled and then turned to face me.
I noted the pretty flush of her cheeks and shine of her glossy lips. She had the cutest, faint spray of freckles across her nose. This school wasn’t lacking in gorgeous girls, but something was different about her. She was refreshingly beautiful without needing to be a bitch like Addison.
Nothing’s uglier than a mean girl.
“Something tells me this isn’t Theater C,” she said.
“Well, I guess freshmen aren’t all dumb, huh?” The joke slipped out before I had the sense to stop it.
Her scowl deepened and, somehow, dimples formed on her cheeks. Dimples. With a scowl. Now there’s a first. “I’m not dumb.”
Well, there was no going back now. I’d made the stupid joke… I had to live with it.
“I know. That’s what I said,” I clarified. “That you’re not stupid like most freshmen.”
Her scowl deepened and so did those dimples. They creviced so deep, I could have hidden my loose change in them.
“I knew this wasn’t Theater C,” she said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “I just wasn’t in the mood to stand there with her and argue when she clearly wasn’t going to help me.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this girl. On one hand, I was glad she didn’t fall for Addison’s shit. But on the other hand, it would have been nice to see her stand up for herself and put Addison in her place. “Well, come on,” I said. “Theater C is this way.”
But she didn’t move. “Where do you think she was sending me?”
My gaze shifted between her and the closed, unmarked door. “I don’t know… and I don’t think I want to find out. I’m going to guess it isn’t good.”
“I’m flipping curious, though.”
“Flipping curious?” I repeated, doing my best to hide my smile. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard a college kid talk around a curse word. It was ridiculously cute.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m curious what’s in this room.”
What was up with this girl? She knew this was the wrong door. Knew that Addison was fucking with her. But instead of backing away, it was like she had a death wish. A draw toward the morbid, the macabre.
“Yeah? Well, I’m not.” Using my thumb, I fidgeted with the spinner ring.
Her eyes dipped to the ring before edging back up to meet mine. “It’s unmarked,” she continued. “So, it’s probably not a rehearsal space. And faculty offices usually have their names on the door.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great. Thank you, Sherlock Holmes. Can we go now?”
She went on like I wasn’t even there. Like she wasn’t even talking to me, but rather just journaling in her own head. “I don’t think she would haze me by simply pointing me to the wrong door. There’s got to be something in there.”
She reached out before I could stop her and tugged the unmarked door open.
There was a yelp from inside, and before either Blondie or I could respond, a man and woman tumbled out of the small janitor’s closet.
The woman’s skirt was bunched up around her hips, curly black hair wild around her angled face. She was beautiful, and if I had to guess, probably in her mid-to-late thirties.
The man was only a little older than us with shaggy, chestnut brown hair, and he wore a Ramones t-shirt and jeans that were half undone. The theater building was a hell of a lot more casual if this was how the professors dressed… and acted.
“Oh, my gosh!” Blondie exclaimed. “I-I’m so sorry. I was told this was the entry to my first class.”
The man scrambled to fix his fly, spinning to face away from us.
I would bet a shit ton of money that Addison, and probably a lot of the upperclassmen in the theater department, knew that these teachers used this closet to get busy between classes.
“Well,” the woman snapped and smoothed her hand over her hair, as though that could do anything to tame the curls. “It’s clearly not.”
The only indication that she was in any way flustered was the slight hint of pink on her cheeks. Otherwise, the woman was completely calm and composed.