I shook my head, my eyebrows dancing. “Ah-ah! It’s Romeo. I’ve been reliably informed.”

He scowled at me, his face rigid. “No one calls me that, Mol.”

“Just like no one calls me ‘Mol,’” I retorted, and my eyes widened at my uncharacteristic boldness.

It earned me a surprised glare. “Touché, Molly…?” He trailed off, waiting for me to say my last name with an expectant smirk.

“Molly Shakespeare.”

Rome drifted closer, mouth tight. “What?”

“Shakespeare. Molly Shakespeare.”

The annoyance was evident in his intimidating expression. “Are you tryin’ to be funny?”

“Nope. Romeo, I’m a Shakespeare—born and bred.”

He stilled for a moment before he rolled his head back and held his stomach while he boomed out a laugh. His red shirt lifted slightly, showing a line of his tanned, hard stomach.

“That’s not the only weird thing about our names,” I announced nervously.

“Really? ‘Cause things have been all kinds a’weird since meeting you today. I’m not sure I understand what it all means yet.” He furrowed his brow and shook his head.

“Well, get a one-way ticket to freaky-ville, my friend, because my middle name, Romeo, is Juliet,” I rushed out, tapping my fingers on the glass-topped table.

Rome’s drink froze mid-air and his tongue caught between his teeth. “Are you serious?”

“Yep, my dad thought it would be a fitting tribute to our family surname.”

He tipped his head to the side, regarding me with a curious expression. “Very fittin’.”

“Yeah, but at the same time kind of embarrassing.”

“Well, Shakespeare, you gonna treat me differently now too? Now that you know I’m Romeo ‘Bullet’ Prince?”

“Bullet?” My nose scrunched in confusion.

Scratching his hand across his forehead, he said, “Yeah. Football nickname. ‘Cause of my arm.”

I regarded him blankly.

“My throwing arm…”

My expression didn’t change.

Rome pointed at himself. “Quarterback… Quarterbacks throw the ball… in football… to the other players… They control the game.”

“If you say so,” I said with a smile and a shrug.

“Shit, you really know nothin’ about football, do you?” He genuinely was flabbergasted. I could see that in his expression.

“Nope. And no offence, I don’t want to either. It doesn’t interest me. Sports and I don’t mix.”

With a scrape on the red-tiled floor, Rome shifted his chair around the table to be closer to mine and leaned on his hand to face me. “I like that you know nothin’ about football. It’ll be a change, talkin’ to someone about somethin’ other than the new blitz defence or spread formation.”

“Eh…?”

“I love that you have no clue what I’m talkin’ about,” he mused.

“Happy to be of service.”

As Rome reached for the case of beers, seeming more relaxed, he slammed the top of mine against the edge of the table and handed it to me, doing the same to his own before laying his legs in my direction, his bare foot touching mine.

From that brush of contact alone, I felt as though he’d stolen all of my breath.

“So, Shakespeare, what’s your deal? I take it you’re a brainiac if you’re already on your master’s and been Professor Ross’s research assistant for the last couple of years. In fact, you must be f**kin’ unreal for her to bring you all the way to Bama with her?”

I shuffled in discomfort and stared at the table top. “Err, yeah. Something along those lines.”

“You don’t like to talk about how great you are in school, do you?” he inquired, intrigued.

“Not really. It gets embarrassing, talking about being good at something. Anyone who enjoys that kind of attention, I think, is weird.”

“Then that’s somethin’ we have in common.” He sounded happily… surprised.

I laid my hand over his and whispered, “Well, that and our Elizabethan epic playwright names.”

Heat zipped up my arm again, and seeing my reaction, he pulled a knowing smile. “That too.”

“Rome? Rome? Has anyone seen Rome? Where’d he go?”

Shelly.

Rome groaned and put his head in his hands. I polished off the last of my beer and slid the chair back, my anxiety suddenly flaring up.

I needed to leave.

Rome quickly lifted his head, his face distressed. “You goin’ somewhere?”

I leaned over the balcony, spotting Lexi, Cass, and Ally chatting and laughing on the grass. I should be with them and not with Rome. Shelly was stumbling around the lawn, I assumed searching for Rome. She was a mess.

I pointed down to the backyard. “Are you not going to go to her? She’s pretty wasted by the looks of things.”

“Am I f**k! She can just want. She’ll sleep it off with some other guy.”

Kicking my chair back to where I stood, he ordered, “Sit your ass back down, Shakespeare, and have another beer with your most famously tragic character. You’re not leavin’ me yet.”

Rome’s eyes demanded that I obey, and I rolled mine playfully in return, grabbing another Bud and sitting on the seat. “If I don’t stop drinking soon, I’ll be the one tottering around the lawn. You want me shouting for you, too?”

Rome licked his bottom lip, and I involuntarily mimicked his action. “It’s soundin’ more temptin’ by the second.” I didn’t know what to say in response.

Seeing my unease, he changed the subject, clearly tickled. “So, you’ve joined a sorority?”

“Yeah, and Ally wants me to move into the main house, with Lexi and Cass, of course. It’s not exactly my thing, but I’m trying my best to embrace college life.”

He smiled. “You and Ally been speaking?”

“Yeah. After you left… the room… earlier… after the… erm…”

“Kiss.” He offered once more, but this time with slightly hooded eyes and a husky timbre as his attentions refocused on my mouth.

“Err, yeah. Well, Shelly screamed at me to leave and Ally fought in my corner and basically told Shelly to bugger off.”