Page 39 of Broken Romeo
“So, you have an allergy?” I asked.
Kate rolled her eyes. “Oh, are you a quarterback and a sleuth, too? Don’t worry, world, Holden Dorsey is on the case!”
“Well, if I’m a sleuth, I think I should go by my whole name. Holden James Dorsey’s on the case.”
Kate growled, snatching a red Solo cup off the bar table, and ladled some punch into it.
I tried to interrupt her by grabbing the ladle from her hand. “Uh, I wouldn’t do that.”
But it was too late. She’d already gulped down half the cup with her pill. Maybe even just to spite me.
I shook my head. “Do you know what you just did?”
She held up her hands, fingers splayed. “If I’m forced to stay here for a while, I might as well have a little fun. Let loose. Isn’t that what you upperclassmen are always telling freshmen? To relax?”
She tipped her head back, chugging what was in the cup.
“Kate, no! Stop!” I grabbed the cup from her hands, then inspected what was left of the spiked punch. “Dammit! You’re not supposed to drink with Benadryl! And I’m going to guess from that annoying little halo over your head that you don’t usually drink and don’t exactly have a tolerance built up.”
Warring emotions of anger and panic clenched in my gut. I might’ve been overreacting, but I wasn’t about to take chances. I’d seen this before. Dealt with my mom doubling up on pills and alcohol. Even though it should have been my dad’s job to care for her, somehow it always fell to me to make sure she was okay.
I resented them both for putting me in that position.
But right then, I didn’t resent Kate. Far from it. Her small rebellion spoke to me and for the first time since meeting her, we had something in common.
My stomach turned sour at the thought. I didn’t want Kate to be like me. She was too good to descend into the same pitfalls I did. I wanted to preserve her—protect her.
She smacked her now cherry-stained lips. “So, what? There’s no way I’m the only lightweight here. I bet half the freshmen at this party have only been drunk once or twice in their lives.”
“There aren’t any other freshmen at this party,” I said. As if I was dumb enough to invite underage people to a keg party. Not all of us jocks thought with our dicks, like Duncan.
I grabbed an unopened bottle of water off the table and handed it to her. “Here. Drink this.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t argue with me and cracked the cap, eyeing me as she tilted her head back and drank a third of the bottle in a few gulps. Then, wiping the back of her hand against her chin, she said, “You don’t have to keep nervously spinning that hideous ring. I’m fine.”
I froze, my fingers pinching my grandfather’s spinner ring. I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it. Releasing my grip on the ring, I saw the pattern of the etched filigree indented onto the pad of my thumb. Why did she have to be so damn observant?
“It was my grandfather’s.”
The lines around her scowl softened. “Oh. I’m sorry. So that’s like… a family heirloom or something?”
“Yeah. Something like that.” I glanced down at the ring, ignoring the surge of bitterness erupting from my gut. My grandfather was the biggest son of a bitch I’d ever met. Worse than my dad, and that was saying something. After I royally fucked up my freshman year, I wore his ring as a reminder to make good choices. To ask myself: What Would Grandfather Do?
Then, do the opposite.
Kate stepped closer, bending at the waist to get a better look at my ring. In doing so, her hair brushed over my arm, sending goosebumps racing across my skin. As she tilted her head, I got an even better view of the long, svelte curve of her neck, and fuck me, I wanted to run my tongue along that slope.
“It’s, um, not that hideous,” she said. “It’s actually kind of—”
“You were right the first time. It’s hideous.” I chuckled and stretched out my hand to get a better look. I’d grown so accustomed to wearing it that I barely even looked at it anymore. But it was the ugliest piece of jewelry I’d ever seen, large and bulky with yellow gold on the outside band and platinum for the middle spinner part. It was heavily etched with some ornate design that was so damn dated.
But its ugliness was part of the appeal.
It matched Grandfather.
Kate laughed too and took my hand in hers, pulling my fingers close to her face to examine the ring. “So, what kind of heirloom is this? Are you going to, like, give this to the woman you plan to marry someday?”
My skin tingled where her gentle touch skimmed across the back of my hand. “This ugly thing? The only way I’d give this to a woman as a gift was if I secretly hated her.”