Chapter 2

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve gotten good at pretending over the years. Fake smiles at the dinner table. Making polite conversation whenever our parents are present. But as soon as we’re alone, the gloves come off.

Roman Danvers and I have been in what feels like a never ending boxing match since birth. But it wasn’t until about sixth grade when it started to become clear that the two of us were never going to find common ground.

He started playing baseball, hanging out with all the jocks and popular kids. Meanwhile, I joined student council and the academic team. At that time, our lives began to splinter off in completely different directions, and if I thought our family connection was enough to maintain some semblance of civility, I was wrong.

Just ask our entire graduating class, who believed well into high school that I preferred girls over boys because Rome decided to announce to the entire eighth grade baseball team that I was a lesbian.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian. And if I did, in fact, like girls, I wouldn’t have cared one bit. But when you actually like boys but none of them pay you a bit of attention because they think you bat for the other team, it makes finding a date damn near impossible.

And don’t even get me started on how things have only spiraled from there. If the rumors he spread weren’t enough, he made a sport out of sleeping with quite a few of my friends in high school, which I know had very little to do with them and everything to do with him taking shots at me.

And then, even though he had at least a dozen offers to play ball all over the country, he chose to come to the University of Texas, my dream school, which I know was only to spite me. Just so he could show me that he could.

If I had any delusions that things would be better in college, I was wrong. Because we’re both majoring in areas of Education – me in childhood education, him in sports education – we see each other a hell of a lot more than I’d like. He treats me like a diseased leper most days, rarely speaking to me, yet he’s always whispering, presumably about me, to his buddies, every time I walk by. On the rare occasion when he actually acknowledges my existence, it’s only to say something hurtful or to insult me in some way. And then when we go home for holidays, he acts like we’re the best of friends in front of our parents.

“That’s more reason for me not to go,” I disagree, turning back to Quinn.

“Is it?” Her hands go to her hips. “Rome walks around this campus like he owns it. Hell, the one relationship you’ve had while here, you had to hide for four months so he wouldn’t sabotage it.”

She’s talking about Josh Turner. I wouldn’t say he was my boyfriend. But he did spend four months last spring showing me everything I had been missing out on while in college. Or rather, what Rome had kept me from being able to experience. And if he hadn’t graduated in May and moved back to Ohio, I’d venture to say we’d probably still be hanging out.

“Maybe it’s time you show him he doesn’t wield as much power as he thinks.”

“And how do you propose I do that, exactly?”

“By not walking on eggshells around him. By not giving a shit if he’s going to be somewhere and showing up anyway. He does it to you all the time. I think it’s time you start

giving him a taste of his own medicine.”

“And how exactly do you suggest I do that?”

“He’s slept with half of your friends...”

“Oh no, I am not sleeping with one of his, walking STD, teammates.” I shake my head. “Besides, I doubt any of them would be interested in me, even if I would entertain the idea. I can only imagine the lies he’s probably told them about me.”

“It doesn’t have to be one of his friends, necessarily. Just a guy at the bar. And you don’t have to actually sleep with anyone.” Laughter riddles her words. “He just needs to think that you did.”

“He’d never buy it.”

“Why, because he still thinks you’re a virgin? Maybe it’s time he knows that ship has long since sailed.”

I shake my head. “The less he knows, the better. But that’s not why. He’d never believe it because he knows I’d never go home with some random guy. What did you say

earlier? That I’m predictable.”

“Even more reason for you to do it.”

“I don’t know, Quinn.” I nibble on the inside of my cheek nervously. “It seems a bit immature.”

“Sometimes you have to stoop to the enemy’s level to deliver justice.”

I consider her words. I’ve never been the type to stir the pot. Then again, sitting back and doing nothing hasn’t stopped Rome from taking shots at me every chance he gets. I promised myself last week, after walking out into the quad to find him making out with my lab partner against a tree, that I would take a stand. That I would stop letting him purposely rile me up.

Going to a bar I know he frequents isn’t throwing fire in his face, but maybe it will be the start of me finally shaking Roman freaking Danvers off my back once and for all.

And do I really want to spend my Friday night studying? Just because it’s what I should do, doesn’t mean it’s what I want to do.

“Okay, let’s do it,” I finally agree.

“Really?” she squeals, bouncing up on the balls of her feet.

“Yes, but I’m not going to pick up some random guy. I’m going to show up with you and I’m leaving with you. The fact that I have the nerve to show up there will probably be enough to piss him off anyway. I don’t think I need to go making a show of it.”

“Fine, but I get to dress you.”

I give her a questioning look.

“Just trust me, okay.”

“Famous last words,” I mutter.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She clasps her hands together.

“This is going to be so much fun!”

“I’m glad you talked me into coming out tonight,” I admit, leaning into Quinn as we wait for the drinks we just ordered.

“See, I knew you’d have fun.” Quinn knocks her hip against mine and grins. “Max seems into you.”

“What, no?” I shake my head, my voice getting lost to the loud music thrumming around us.