Bad Romeo (28 page)

“Oh, God.”

“Ethan was devastated. I would have expected something like that from Vanessa, but not from Matt. He and Ethan were like brothers. The next day at school, Matt tried to smooth things over and apologize, but … Ethan was just so angry. He snapped and beat the hell out of Matt. Ended up breaking his nose and getting suspended for two weeks. Vanessa thought the two of them fighting over her was awesome. I’m sure she was playing them both for fools.”

“What a bitch,” I say, feeling violent hatred toward her. I expel a long breath. I can’t even wrap my head around how traumatic it must have been to be betrayed by your closest friends. No wonder Holt had intimacy issues.

“That’s when he really shut down,” Elissa says. “Getting rejected by The Grove didn’t help. He stopped communicating with me and Mom and became even more distanced from Dad. Threw himself into his theater work. Drank too much. Got into fights. Slept with every woman who came across his path, then never called them again. It was hideous to watch.”

My face must give away how much I hate thinking about him with other women, because she quickly adds, “There wasn’t ever anything serious.”

“Not even Olivia?” I ask.

Elissa scrunches up her face. “Yeah, they had a thing. But honestly, Ethan treated her so badly it was doomed from the start. And she was a nice girl, too. Nothing like Vanessa. I never thought my brother could be cruel, until I saw him with Olivia. She would have done anything for him, and he destroyed her. He hasn’t dated since.”

I think about all the cruel things he’s said or done since I’ve known him, and I feel sorry for his previous Juliet.

“So that’s the story,” Elissa says as she stands and pulls me to my feet. “Now, can we please stop talking about my deadbeat brother and start having a good time? I doubt he’ll show tonight. He’s probably in a bar somewhere, scowling at the wall and causing paint to blister.”

We head back inside, and half an hour and two tequila shots later, Elissa and Ruby have convinced me to dance. I twirl and sway with them, but I can’t help thinking about Holt and what he’s been through.

When I hear a huge round of applause at the front of the room, I turn around to see Holt there, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in his outstretched arms as he yells, “Wassup, fellow thespians?! Romeo’s in da house! Let’s party!”

The whole room roars its approval, and beside me I hear Elissa say, “Oh, God. What the hell is he doing?”

I watch in disbelief as Holt hugs and high-fives everyone around him while making his way through the throng like a rock star with his fans.

When he reaches us he smiles sloppily and says, “Hello, ladies,” in a voice I’m guessing is supposed to be sexy.

“Ruby,” he says as he pulls her in for a hug. “You hate me, don’t you? A lot of people hate me. Even my own father. Don’t worry. I don’t hold it against you.”

Then he turns to his sister and wraps his arms around her. “Oh, Elissa. Sweet, ball-breaking Elissa. Why do you put up with me? I don’t understand. But I love you. I really, really do.”

“Uh … Ethan?” she says, wincing as he squeezes her. “Did you happen take a whole bunch of Ecstasy tonight?”

He kisses her cheek before turning to me. His smile immediately falters, but he takes another swig of liquor and then steps forward as he reaches out to cup my face.

“And Cassie. Beautiful, beautiful Cassie. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“I’m great! I don’t even care about what happened tonight with my father. And you wanna know why? Because I’ve decided not to care about anything. It’s such a simple concept, I don’t know why I didn’t come up with it years ago. Look at how happy I am!”

He throws his head back and laughs. It’s the saddest sight I’ve ever seen.

“Holt…” I begin, but he puts his fingers on my lips.

“No, don’t ‘Holt’ me.” He puts down his bottle. “It’s a party, and I want to dance. See ya.”

He pushes into the crowd, and they whoop around him as he starts to move, energetic and ungainly.

“Wow,” Elissa says. “I’ve never seen my brother dance before. There’s … God … there’s too much wrong for me to comprehend.”

“He’s a truly terrible dancer,” Ruby says. “It looks like he’s having a vertical seizure.”

He’s the life of the party. He talks to everyone—is
polite
to everyone. Heck, he even laughs at Jack’s jokes and doesn’t sneer when Zoe flirts with him.

He probably feels like raging and punching people in the face, but instead he’s being the Holt he thinks everyone wants him to be.

I grind my teeth in frustration.

I know Holt can be an ass, because he’s been one to me on more than one occasion, but at least he was being real. This new Holt? He’s as fake as Zoe’s boobs.

Now I know how he felt watching me be a people pleaser. It’s aggravating as hell.

When I can’t take anymore, I push through the crowd to get to him. He’s talking to Zoe, smiling and laughing. She’s making sexy eyes at him, and I have an urge to smash her face into the bowl of Doritos on the table beside her.

Holt looks up as I approach, and once again his smile falters for a second before it slams firmly back into place.

“Taylor!” he says warmly. “What’s up? Zoe here was just telling me that if she’d been my Juliet instead of you, she wouldn’t have been faking the sex scene. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“Totally hilarious,” I say with zero enthusiasm. “Zoe?” I pick up the bowl of Doritos. “Want some chips?”

Pow. Right in the kisser.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right, Cassie. As if I’m going to eat carbs.”

I exhale and plaster a nonviolent expression on my face. “Holt, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Actually,” Zoe says as she links her arm through his possessively, “he’s talking to me right now. Maybe you could come back later.”

Woman, you’d best get your hands off him before I give you a hydrolyzed-cheese-starch facial.

I slam the chip bowl down on the table and force myself to smile. “I won’t keep him long. I’m sure he’ll be back listening to your amusing pornographic hypotheticals before you know it.”

I grab Holt’s arm and tug, and thankfully, he follows me to the kitchen.

I spin around to face him. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs. “Having a good time?”

“Really? Is that what you call it? Talking to Slut Girl. Pretending you like her.”

“‘Slut Girl’ is a very unkind nickname,” he says, his words slurred. “And maybe I actually enjoy her company.”

“Oh, what a crock.”

“You jealous, Taylor?”

“Yes. Very. Now would you please drop this stupid act and kiss me?”

That stops him dead in his tracks. He blinks three times. I don’t even flinch. Guess I’m getting pretty good at saying what I really think.

Jack walks in and heads to the keg in the corner, ignoring the staring match going on as he fills several cups with beer. “Hey, Holt, buddy. You’re not slowing down, are you? Come on, have one of these.”

Holt turns around just as Jack holds out one of the cups, and the entire beer splashes down the front of Ethan’s shirt.

“Shit!” Jack gasps. “Sorry, man. Total accident.”

Jack grabs a dishtowel and tries to dry Holt’s shirt as he mumbles more apologies.

“It’s fine,” Holt says and forces a smile. “I really don’t care. Got a spare T-shirt I could borrow?”

Jack nods. “Yeah, upstairs in my closet. Wear anything you like.”

Holt slaps him on the shoulder a little too hard as he passes and mutters, “Thanks, buddy.”

He pushes through the crowd and strides up the stairs, and it’s all I can do not to follow him.

“You know,” Jack says. “I’ve never seen anyone be a happy-angry drunk before, but Holt somehow pulls it off.”

I nod. “It’s a rare and special gift.”

He picks a beer up off the counter and sips it thoughtfully. “I should jump online and see if there are any reviews of tonight’s performance out yet. I heard the reviewer from
Online Stage Diary
was there. I wonder if he had anything nice to say.”

I get a sudden knot in my stomach. “He was there?”

“Yeah. Him and about four others. One from the
Broadway Reporter
.” He looks at me and quirks an eyebrow. “You never know, Taylor. In the morning, you could be a star.”

“Yeah, right. Or they could hate me.” I laugh, but seriously, if they hate me …

Just the thought of it makes me prickle with nervous sweat.

“I’m sure they’ll say awesome things about you,” Jack says, putting an encouraging hand on my shoulder. “And if they don’t? Well, there’s still half a keg of beer left. You could drink until you forget about it.”

He grabs his beers and wanders off.

I stand there for a few seconds, contemplating my possible impending public humiliation, and I realize there’s only one thing that can help me stop freaking out, and he’s upstairs, maybe shirtless.

I push through the living room before climbing the stairs and heading down the hall to Jack’s room. The door is open, and as I peek around the corner, I see Holt seated on the bed, bare chested, his sodden shirt on the floor, his head cradled in his hands. He grips his hair and sighs, raw frustration emanating from him like an aura.

“Hey,” I say, and take a tentative step inside the room.

He looks up sharply before pushing off the bed and striding over to the closet.

“Hey.” He swings the doors open wide and flicks through Jack’s impressive range of T-shirts. “Some party, huh?”

I can’t look away from the muscles in his naked back as they move and flex. Well, that’s not true. I
could
look away, but I don’t want to.

“You okay?” I ask, coming closer.

“I’m great.” He holds out a shirt that says,
To Err Is Human. To Arr Is Pirate.
“Does Avery actually wear this out in public?”

“Holt…”

“Or what about this one?” He brings out a shirt that says,
Here’s to nipples. Without them, titties would be pointless.

“Listen…”

“I mean, seriously. Did he buy these or were they paying people to take them away?”

“We need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t.” He replaces the hanger and flicks roughly through the rest of the rack. “Does this guy own nothing but goddamn joke shirts? Nothing sporty? Or, God forbid, plain?”

He keeps flipping through the hangers, his posture becoming more and more tense.

“Ethan,” I say and place my hand in the middle of his back.

“No.” He spins around and steps away from me. “Just fucking … don’t, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because you touching me never ends well. Because when you touch me, I … fuck, I think stupid thoughts and want stupid things, and … so … just … don’t…”

I take a step forward, and he presses his back into the closet door. When I place my hand in the middle of his chest, he inhales sharply and clenches his jaw.

“I don’t know what you’re so scared of. I’m not Vanessa.”

His expression hardens. “What the fuck do you know about Vanessa?”

I take a deep breath. “Elissa told me about her. And the other girls. And Olivia.” He sighs heavily, and I step a little closer. “Don’t be mad. I forced her.”

His fists clench by his sides. “She still had no goddamn business telling you.”

“I wanted to know.” I bring my other hand onto his chest where I can feel the frantic thrumming beneath the surface. “And now I understand a little more about why you’re so hesitant to date again. What Vanessa did to you was horrible. But I’m not her. I’m nothing like her.”

He looks down at me with less anger, but it’s replaced with tired resignation. Like he’s already had this conversation in his head, many times.

“You don’t get it,” he says. “It doesn’t
matter
that you’re nothing like her. Some part of me thinks you are, and it’s just … waiting … for everything to go to shit again. It’s not logical, but I can’t help it. And as much as I’m afraid of you hurting me, I’m more afraid of hurting you. What happened with Olivia? I can’t do that to someone again, especially not you.”

He thinks he’s trying to protect me, but as someone who’s been so afraid of being wrong all my life, I finally know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’m right for him.

“Ethan, no relationship comes without out its risks, and even though you think you can keep pushing people away forever, I’m here to tell you that you’re absolutely going to fail.”

I graze my hands up his forearms, his biceps. Skim across his warm, soft skin.

“The thing is,” he says, looking at me as he tentatively cups my cheek, “as much as you frighten the living fuck out of me, and as much as I know one of us, if not both, is going to absolutely regret it … I want to fail with you.”

We stare at each other for long moments, and as I look into his eyes, I see the exact second he makes his decision. I stop breathing as his fingers tighten in my hair. Then he leans down, his mouth lingering just above mine, sweet warm air fanning over my face as time stops.

“Looking at me like that isn’t fair,” he whispers. “Not even a little bit fucking fair.”

Then the space between our lips is gone, and he’s kissing me, hard and needy. A sharp inhale from both of us sounds incredibly loud in my ears. We kiss each other desperately, lips connecting and pressing, fitting together like it’s their purpose, then parting to make way for low moans.

The effect he has on my body is instantaneous and powerful, and I take full advantage of him being shirtless. My hands roam everywhere. Across his broad shoulders and arms. Around to his back and up to his shoulder blades. Back down his sides and onto his stomach.

He groans into my mouth and explores me just as hungrily. “Jesus … Cassie.”

He kisses me unreservedly, passionately, and at last I feel that, after taking so many steps backward, we’re finally moving forward. Toward what, I have no idea, but just knowing he’s open to the experience is better than any other feeling I’ve ever had.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night.” He pants in between kisses. “Staying away from you was fucking exhausting.”

Somehow we start walking back toward the bed, still kissing, deep and frantic. Before I know it, I’m on my back with him between my thighs. I clutch at him as he grinds against me, slow and insistent.