Waiting for Romeo Page 9

  “No. Besides, I can’t. I have another class and I need to talk to…” I start to say but I’m interrupted when Professor Milton clears his throat, loudly and I turn to look in his direction.

  “Time is of the essence, Miss King.”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll be right there.” I say. My face heated.

  “Later, beautiful.” I hear Logan say as I quickly turn from him and make my way towards the professor.

  I AM THOROUGHLY EXHAUSTED, completely and utterly spent, by the end of the day, physically and mentally. I congratulate myself on successfully avoiding certain people, while handling slightly awkward situations without falling flat on my face.

  Certainly it isn’t the first or the last time Luke will get under my skin. Although, it’s getting much easier for me to turn him down, I struggle with putting him in his place. After today’s encounter, I have to admit, as inexperienced as I am with all of this, I am surprisingly finding that when times get tough, the tough get a backbone. Doesn’t Bryn always tell me I’m one of the toughest people she knows? I always laugh her off, but maybe she’s slightly on to something.

  Life is tough. Love is tougher. Heartbreaks are the toughest. I don’t know where this quote is from, but I read it on a bathroom stall once and it stuck in my head. Is it possible that I’m a stronger person because Logan broke my heart? Maybe. I pull out my iPad and stare at the “LOVE” emails, trying to make sense of everything that has happened. Is it possible our break-up caused him heartbreak? Is it possible the loss of what we shared caused him as much pain as it did me? He says so, but I don’t really understand it.

  And now.

  I didn’t think it was possible for me to run into him, pun intended, even more than I already had. Now, he is literally, everywhere I turn, including, the one place, I thought I’d never see him. Never in a million years did I think I’d find him, a business major, in one of my advanced literature classes. Maybe if we were freshmen, in an introduction course, but certainly not, senior year, in an advanced class, that requires a prerequisite course.

  What’s his game? That’s all I can think, maybe it’s the cynic in me. Or, maybe I should just listen to him. Is it possible he has always been honest with his feelings even from the start? Is he being honest now?

  This is what I do know: he has gone out of his way to show me he has turned over a new leaf. He kicked out Sebastian, written off Seraphina as a friend, and even moved into a place of his own. Now on top of that, he went out of his way to get into my Shakespeare class. For some reason, despite my efforts to push him away, he still cares about me and as much as the cynic within me wants to deny it, he cares a lot about me.

  When I finally pull out The Complete Works of William Shakespeare to get started on my homework, I hear my phone buzz and see I have a text from Logan.

  LOGAN: Hi

  ME: Hi

  LOGAN: So, I’m tempted to change my major.

  ME: Oh. Why is that?

  LOGAN: If it means having you in all my classes…I’m in.

  ME: Oh, Romeo…I’m sure you could pull some more strings. BTW how did you manage to get in w/out doing the prerequisite?

  LOGAN: I talked to Professor Meyer. I told her I loved everything Shakespeare (including you). I’m pretty certain she either took pity on me or is a hopeless romantic.

  ME: Probably both ;)

  LOGAN: Are you starting to get the picture that I will do anything to get you back?

  ME: Anything?

  LOGAN: You’ve got my attention.

  ME: Hmm. I’ll have to think about that. Good night, Logan. See you in class.

  LOGAN: Until then. Sweet Dreams.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT and Bryn isn’t a happy camper. After refusing to go out Friday night, she now threatens to burn my Shakespeare textbook. If my six classes and work at Spyder weren’t enough, the extra work I’m doing to assist in my Shakespeare class is pushing me over the edge. Not one to give up easily, I’m determined to not throw in the towel…at least not a week into the new session. I hate disappointing people, actually I despise it; no doubt it’s the people pleaser in me. I know if I give up I will undoubtedly disappoint myself the most.

  With so much work, I can barely keep my head above water. But Bryn, despite my protests and reluctance, ignores my pleas to let me stay home and burn the midnight oil another weekend night.

  “Uh-uh. You are not staying home tonight to do more work.” She stands in my bedroom doorway with her hands on her hips.

  I’m lying on my bed, an island in the midst, my laptop and books surrounding me.

  “Bryn, I promise I’ll go out with you next weekend. I’m up to my eyeballs here.” I plead while focusing on my laptop.

  She moves forward, pushing the lid of my computer down. “Emilia, you need a break. The session just started and if you keep this up you’ll burn out by the end of the month. You need to get out. You know what they say about all work and no play.”

  “It’s the key to success.” I smile, smugly at her.

  She ignores me and moves to my closet. Pulling out my JBrand jeans and a new red Wildfox sweater she gave me for Christmas, she tosses them at me.

  “One day you’ll thank me for this.” She beams.

  “For what? For single-handedly ruining my GPA?”

  “No, for keeping you sane. Now get up and get dressed so we can get this par-tay started.” She does her best rapper impersonation.

  “Only if you promise to keep your rapping confined to the shower.” I giggle.

  “I’ll promise you whatever you want if it’ll get you out of the house and into the nearest party. Now, go!”

  WHEN BRYN AND I get to Soho it’s still fairly early in the evening. The college crowd typically shuffles in between ten or eleven. Carefully, scoping out the scene, I don’t see Logan, or Tyler and Josh, for that matter. Thankfully, letting out a sigh of relief, I don’t see Seraphina or Sebastian.

  “Looking for someone?” Bryn interrupts my perusal of the scene.

  “Maybe.” I tease.

  “Well, you’re here so I’m sure he won’t be far behind.” She jokes about the omnipresence of Logan. We order a pitcher of beer for Bryn and a pitcher of margaritas for myself then slide into a booth beside the bar.

  I laugh. “Did I tell you he finagled his way into my Advanced Shakespeare class?” I ask.

  “Not surprised.” She shakes her head. “He. Will. Stop. At. Nothing.” She says ominously teasing.

  “You sound impressed. Is it possible even his biggest critic is actually being swayed?” I glance at her as I take a sip.

  “Not quite. I still think you need time to make sure he’s what you want. You could have any guy you want, Emilia…your options are endless. Seriously, check out all your hot prospects before you fall back into bed with him.” She raises her eyebrows up and down. “You need to be certain…absolutely, positively certain. And, if and when you are, then sure, I’ll be swayed. But only you can sway me, not him.”

  “You still think he’s trouble?”

  She clears her throat and does her best Taylor Swift. “Cause I knew he was trouble when he walked in. So shame on me now…now I’m lying on the cold hard ground…oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble.”

  “I thought you promised to keep your singing to the shower.” I laugh.

  “You said my rapping. I think you’re just jealous.” She jokingly pouts.

  “Yeah. That’s it.” I pause a second. “So your answer is yes.”

  “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t say I think he’s trouble? He already hurt you. You know how much I don’t want you hurt again.”

  I sip my drink, thinking about her words.

  “Let’s change the subject. This is all too heavy for a Saturday night.” She waves her hands, sloppily in the air. “This will all be over in a matter of months. Then we’ll be forever trapped in the daily grind.” She grabs a couple of shots from the passing waitress’ tray and hands me
one.

  “Good point.” I say. Leave it to Bryn to cite, with astute awareness, the benefits of partying. I hold up my shot towards her.

  “Good girl.” She clinks my shot and we throw them back.

  “Hold up. What happened to swearing off tequila?”

  “Been there, done that.” She laughs. “Besides I’m conducting an experiment.”

  “This, I’ve got to hear.”

  “I think it’s the combo of the juices mixed with tequila that makes me sick. Isn’t it possible that I don’t tolerate margaritas, but then have no affliction towards tequila by itself?” She says, smartly.

  I smile at her. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, I’ve had an abundance of tequila and effectively skirted, with Bryn at my side, too many to count wandering hands, when Josh and Tyler make their way into the now packed bar.

  I think of the last time I saw Tyler and worry things will be weird between us. But my anxious feelings that things will be awkward between us are quickly put to rest. Immediately, we are more at ease with each other. The thought of Tyler, looking so deflated that morning I stopped at his house when I was out jogging, is a far cry from his appearance and mood tonight. I suppose laying one’s cards out on the table has its benefits. If escaping the awkwardness, and remaining friends, despite how much I avoid confrontations, is the result then I’m all for it!

  “Lick it, slam it, suck it!” Bryn shouts, referring to the way you drink a shot of tequila: licking the salt, downing the shot, biting the lime. But the way she sits on Josh’s lap, seductively whispering in his ear, implies something entirely different. I know I’m in for a long and loud night, filled with moans and groans.

  I roll my eyes at Tyler, and, as if he knows what I’m thinking, he laughs.

  I quickly change the subject. “Did Bryn tell you about her experiment?”

  “Experiment? I hope handcuffs and hot wax are involved.” Josh breathes in Bryn’s ear, but it’s loud enough for all of us to hear. So much for changing the subject!

  Bryn laughs.

  Fortunately, Tyler comes to the rescue. “How are your classes going?”

  But his efforts to change the subject are to no avail.

  “No. No. We’re not talking about work. I had to pry her away from her laptop and practically drag her ass with my bare hands to get her here tonight so please do not remind her about classes or work.”

  I scowl at her.

  “Don’t you scowl at me, Em.”

  “I’m not!” I scowl.

  “More shots, pronto! We’re losing her!” Bryn says, dramatically, waving her hands in the air.

  I sigh and laugh. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you are trying to get me drunk.”

  “Bingo!” She grins at me.

  After another round of shots, I feel the sudden need to hit the ladies’ room. Glancing at Bryn, who is happily ensconced in her tequila-infused world, while plastered to Josh’s lap, I get up from the table and head to the bathroom.

  Quickly I find the bathroom jam-packed, with another dozen or more undergrads in the hall, waiting to empty their liquor-filled bladders. Unwilling and unable to wait another minute, I double time it up the stairs to the one unisex bathroom, very few are aware exists.

  It’s tucked away, utilized mostly by Soho’s employees, in a dark corner, near the exit to the adjacent parking garage. Two minutes later with one pleasantly alleviated bladder, I head out of the bathroom. Just as the door behind me closes shut, another door slams, loudly and I jump. Turning quickly, with a smile spread across my face, because, instinctively or maybe optimistically, I think Logan is making his usual, expected appearance.

  My gut instinct is wrong as my smile quickly fades.

  “Emilia, what a nice surprise.” Sebastian slurs and stubbles towards me.

  I’m frozen, like in a bad dream, unable to move while everything around me moves in slow motion.

  “Expecting someone else?” He stands just a couple feet in front of me.

  “No.” I swallow. Looking out of the corner of my eyes, I know we are alone.

  “Well, you were all smiles until you saw it was me. You sure you weren’t expecting someone else?”

  “No.” I breathe as he circles around me like a shark. I don’t know if he’s just toying with me or actually planning to harm me, but I do know I’m not sticking around to find out. My eyes dart to the stairs and to the backdoor, determining the fastest escape route.

  “Did he tell you he kicked me out?” He seethes and continues. “Nice fucking friend. Just tossed me out like garbage.” He stops in front of me, just inches from my face.

  “Friends for over three years, this is the goddamn thanks I get? Bet you kind of can relate, eh?” His warm breath, filled with a pungent combination of cigarettes and booze, suffocates my senses, filling my stomach with a nauseated feeling.

  When he leans closer, I slowly step backwards, moving slightly towards the staircase.

  “Where you going, Emilia? We just started talking. I know you’ve never really liked me, but maybe we can be friends now?”

  I swallow; my legs are shaky.

  “I can see why he was so into you even if you can be a bit of a bitch.” He leans towards me, caressing my face with his hand. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous. You know he really doesn’t fucking deserve either one of us.”

  “Get your hand off of me.” I snarl. Remembering Rosemary’s defense moves, I quickly mull them over in my head, determining the best plan of attack.

  He looks stunned. “Oh, come on. Why do you have to be that way? I thought we were having a nice, little chat…I thought maybe I was finally breaking that frigid exterior of yours and we were going to be best of friends, especially now that we have something in common.”

  I shake my head. “We have nothing in common.” I say, trembling.

  “We have nothing in common?” He mimics me, cruelly. “Does that mean you two are together again?”

  “We’re not…not that it’s any of your business.” I spit, hoping my talking will distract him.

  “No? I’m sure he’s trying to get you back. He’d be a fucking moron not to want your fine piece of ass all to himself.” He slurs and stumbles.

  The fear, all too familiar and the unknown of what he may or may not be capable of, reinforce the urgency of the situation. I know I need to make my move soon, before it’s too late.

  “You know he’ll just do the same fucking thing to you. It’s the way he is…he’s not going to change.”

  He snakes one arm around my waist. “Why don’t you let me show you what it’s like to be with a real man?” He whispers in my ear as bile rises in my throat. My eyes flare as I lift my leg, with my knee bent, and slam my foot down on top of his.

  “Fuck!” He screams out in pain.

  It distracts him enough to allow me to make my escape. Scrambling towards the stairs, I hear his final epitaph: “Bitch!” before I stumble then fall down the stairs and right into the arms of Logan.

  “Whoa, Emilia!” He says as he catches me in his arms.

  Taking a deep breath, I hold onto his firm arms and push myself up, while I steady my wobbly legs. We are eye to eye. I blink at him, willing myself to keep the tears from welling up in my eyes, and gather my wits.

  “Are you okay?” He stares into my eyes, holding me.

  “I’m fine.” I say, knowing if I tell him, he will go after Sebastian and that’s the last thing I want him to do. Sebastian is already pissed, especially at Logan. Antagonizing Sebastian could possibly just make him go out of his way to harass me more or cause some sort of harm to Logan. Either way, I have no choice. I need to keep this to myself. I certainly don’t want to put anyone in harm’s way just because a very drunk Sebastian threatened me.

  He squints at me. “Fine? You don’t look fine.”

  I try to make light of the situation. “I know. I know. You hate when I say that but I’m fine…just clumsy. You know how I�
�m always falling or fainting.” I laugh. “And I think I’ve had a bit too much tequila.” I ramble a bit too much.

  He squints his eyes at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something from me?”

  I shrug and smile, sweetly. “Thanks for catching me.” I say and hope that the change of subject diminishes his suspicion.

  “My pleasure…as always.” He says as he takes my hand in his and gently kisses the backside of it. The romantic gesture, along with the touch of his lips on my skin, makes me flush and I inhale sharply.

  His eyes stay on mine as he continues to hold my hand. “Shall we?” He says, leading me down the stairs and to the overly crowded bar.

  “Thank you, sir.” I reply, jokingly.

  When we reach the bottom of the stairs he leans close to my ear and asks, “Ready to go?” His warm breath and the intoxicating smell of his cologne, a sensual scent with hints of powder and spices, with the combination of his lips touching the sensitive spot below my earlobe resonates through my body.

  I stare at him. One minute I’m upstairs fending off the unwanted advances of Sebastian, the next I’m trying to make sense of Logan and his determined efforts to get me back. He gazes at me puzzled.

  “What is it?” He whispers. We are in this overly crowded bar, but at the same time, it feels like we are in our own world…just the two of us.

  “Can we find Bryn? She’s probably wondering where I am. Then I’d like to go.” I say, because it’s late and I just want to get away from this place. The thought of Sebastian stirs up those painful memories, making me just want to run from here.

  “Sure.” He smiles with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  “Don’t get any ideas. You can walk me home if you don’t mind, but that’s it.” I smile, slightly at him.

  He chuckles. “That’s it?”

  “Why is that funny?” I gaze at him, confused.

  “So, I can’t talk to you?”

  I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. Don’t be such an ass.”

  He looks at me shocked. “Oh, I’m an ass? Emilia, you are becoming quite the badass…putting me in my place, swearing…what will be next?”