Bad Romeo

Sometimes people put up walls, not only to keep people out, but also to see who cares enough to tear them down. Understand?

I never realized how much it hurt to not be with you until I saw you again, and the pain went away.

This is what love feels like. To no longer belong to yourself. To be pulled from what you know into what you feel. No wonder people live and die for this feeling.

I love you,” he murmurs as he rests his head on my shoulder. “I love you so much. Don’t leave me.

It's a fucking crime that you haven't been kissed properly.

I pick up the phone and jab the answer button. “Listen, dancing queen, I’m drunk, horny, and in no mood to hear about pretty men who aren’t going to fuck me. So for the love of my poor neglected vagina, order yourself another Cosmo and please fuck off.” There’s a pause and an uncertain cough. “I’m more than happy to fuck off, but if it makes a different, I wasn’t going to talk about dicks. I’m far more interested to hear more about your poor neglected vagina. How’s she been? We haven’t had a face-to-face in a while.

Yeah, sure, I can do a passionate play with my ex-lover, who broke my heart not once, but twice. No problem. I bang my head against the wall. If there were a Nation of Stupid People, I would be their queen.

We stand there for a few seconds before he thrusts one of the cardboard cups at me and says, “Oh, shit. This is, uh…this is for you.” I take it and hold it up to my nose. “What is it?” “It’s an I’m-a-dick-achino.” I try to stop the smile that lifts the corners of my mouth. “Huh. Smells like plain old hot chocolate to me.” “Yeah, well, it turns out they were out of dick-achinos. I offered to make some more, but they said I was overqualified.” “They were right.

You terrify me. But not enough to make me think you won’t be worth it.

Sometimes people put up walls, not only to keep people out, but also to see who cares enough to tear them down.

Cassie … We’ve never been over. You know it as well as I do. Even when I was halfway around the world and you hated my guts, we weren’t over. You can feel it between us now. And the closer we are, the stronger it gets.

Let me help you be brave.

Shh. Don’t talk. Just let me smell you.

He’s sold his soul to Lucifer in return for sexual powers over frustrated virgins. It would explain a lot.

Don’t even try to tell me you’ll ever love someone as much as you love me, because as arrogant as it is to say, that’s bullshit. And I feel the same way about you. Everyone else is just going to be second best for us. Don’t you get that?

Back when I still thought her brother was born of a human mother and not spawned straight from Satan’s asshole.

Cassie, I felt like a ghost while I was away from you. I was. Now, I want to feel real again.

I desperately want someone else to ruin me the way he does, but they don't even come close.

We start to sway again. We're not actually dancing, just rocking side to side. Not moving forward or backward. Just moving. Like most of our time together, we're treading water. Trying not to drown.

I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you since the first day we met.” “I know.” He rests his forehead against mine as his hands move across my back. “I’ve pushed you away, time and again. Yet you still want me to kiss you?” “Yes. A lot.” He grazes his hands over my ribs, and his voice is soft and breathless when he says, “Don’t you see how fucked up this is? How bad I’d be for you?” “I know,” I say, unable to stop looking at his mouth, “but do you want it? Do you want…me?” Just say it. Please. He swallows again, and whispers, “Fuck, yes.

Dear Cassandra, sometimes it’s not about trying to fix something that’s broken. Sometimes it’s about starting again and building something new. Something better.” He looks over at Holt, who’s stopped pacing and is staring at us. “It seems like the old foundation is still there. Use it.” He leaves and pats Holt on the shoulder as he passes. “I hope to see you on Monday, Mr. Holt.

Just say yes, Cassie. Don’t overthink it.” His mouth is close. Almost too close for me to deny him anything. “Ethan…” “No, not ‘Ethan.’ ‘Yes’. Or better yet, ‘Yes, please, God, kiss me before we both go insane.’ Either works for me. ‘Fuck, yes!’ with an accompanying fist pump is also acceptable.

The whole weekend turned out to be one giant round of excruciating foreplay, and if he doesn't stop stalling and give me some relief pretty damn pronto, there's going to be a girl-parts rebellion the likes of which he's never seen. I'm wound tighter than Jane Fonda's latest facelift, goddammit.

Do I need to explain how to make love to a woman? Because although I’ve never had the pleasure, I’m fairly certain it involves thrusting.

I bet he has a very nice penis. I bet it's glorious, like his stupid perfect face, and gorgeous eyes, and muscled body. I bet if he entered his penis in a competition, it would win "Best in Show" and he could walk around with a giant blue ribbon stuck to his crotch.

Jesus.” He groans, one hand grasping my hair as he uses the other one to find my breast. “This is just…Goddammit, Taylor. I’m so fucking stupid, because I knew you’d ruin me, and I let it happen anyway. I’m so screwed.” “We both are.” I grab his head and make him kiss me more.

It’s not like I didn’t have friends in high school. I did. But I was always careful to be the Cassie I thought they expected. Happy, easy-going, nonthreatening. Smart but not intimidating. Pretty but not desired. The one who acted as the go-between when someone liked a boy, but never the one the boy liked.

I'm more than happy to fuck off, but if it makes a difference, I wasn't going to talk about dicks. I'm far more interested to hear more about your poor neglected vagina. How's she been? We haven't had a face-to-face in a while.

Yep. Nineteen years of trying to be everything to everyone and ending up as no one to myself.