Chapter 23

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It was decided after we’d all arrived home that Rome and I would leave on our tiny getaway the following day, early in the morning.  I wanted as much time as I could have with my aunt and uncle, but I knew giving them some time alone would be a good thing.  I hadn’t realized before just how much I was at home.  I’d been homeschooled my whole life, and the only time I ever really went out was with Rome.  And that wasn’t even that much.

Sheesh.  I really was a nuisance.  And a loser.

“What’s for supper, Mags?”  I asked, coming back into the living room after changing into comfy, dry clothes.  Rome was lounging on the couch, and Maggie was dusting off pictures resting on the decorative table in the corner.  She glanced at me briefly and rolled her eyes.

 

“Why don’t you make supper once in a while?” She shot back, laughing at me when my mouth dropped open.  From the sound of it, Maggie didn’t think I did anything to help out at all.  Immediately, I began to feel guilty.  Robert was in the hospital, and all I did was burden them.  “Hey, Julie.  I’m kidding.  Get that sorry look off your face,” Maggie said with a laugh, shaking her head and going back to dusting.  I sighed heavily, walking around the couch to sit beside Rome.

“Don’t pout, Jules.  It’s not becoming.”  I saw Rome look at me through my peripherals, although I just rolled my eyes as a response.  Sometimes it wasn’t worth arguing.  Especially when I had a splitting headache.  Speaking of which…

“I’m gonna go get a glass of water.”  I got up from the couch and walked back towards the kitchen, subtly glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed.  Maggie was paying no attention, and Rome reached for the remote to turn on the television.  I was in the clear.

Upon entering the kitchen I made a beeline for the medicine cabinet.  My head felt like it was splitting in two, right down the middle.  I pulled out some ibuprofen, took a moment to clutch it to my chest and whisper a ‘hallelujah’, and then started to open the lid when I heard a throat clear behind me.

Feeling strangely guilty, I whipped around, gripping the bottle tightly in my grasp behind my back.  My cheeks started burning—to my great humiliation—even though, technically, I’d done nothing wrong.

“Julie… what are you doing?”  Rome’s voice was on the verge of chastising, and it made me feel like a child who’d just gotten caught red-handed with their fingers in the cookie jar.

“Getting water?” I responded, the lie so embarrassingly evident in my voice that it made my blush spread to the tops of my ears.  It was hot enough in the kitchen as it was; I didn’t need further heat.

Rome raised one of his eyebrows in suspicion, and slowly began approaching me.  I swallowed audibly—who actually did that anymore?—and I tried backing up against the counter behind me, as though it would put space between my body and his.

“Are you kidding me?” Rome still sounded dubious, and was still getting closer to me, until finally, I was looking straight up at him, chest to chest.  “Are you really going to try this with me?”  I wasn’t exactly concentrating on his words, because at that moment, he’d decided to cup my burning cheek in his hand, and stroke the skin with his thumb.  The sensation was enough to make me die on the spot.  How had I gone seventeen years of my life without this?

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