♣ ♣ ♣
R O M E O
NOBODY MESSES WITH Romeo's boys.
And especially not with the goalie—even if he's Luca Presley.
The very instant the center player from Boston College slams his shoulder into Luca's chest, pushing him into the goal, a roar of outrage bursts in the crowd.
Instant fury seeps through Romeo's veins as he skates towards Braden Peters, Boston College's team captain, throwing his stick somewhere on the ice.
Adrenaline pumps through his being, and he grabs Braden by the back of his jersey before the latter can punch Luca, yanking him backwards and pushing his body on the rink with all the strength he can find.
Braden is most definitely one of the tallest ice hockey player he has played against. Romeo is rather tall himself—six feet two inches, but he isn't as broad as Peters.
The moment Braden falls to the floor whilst glaring at Romeo, one of the defensemen from the rival team sends him into a barrier with such force that his vision blackens for a flickering heartbeat. His bones rattle inside his body, his mind getting sent into overdrive as his breath catches inside his throat.
Said defenseman picks Romeo up by the collar of his jersey, pulling him forward before slamming his back into the glass panel.
"Don't fuck with my captain, you shithead," the guy snarls.
Romeo spits on the ice, cracking his neck before throwing a fist in the guy's jaw. "Don't mess with my goalie, you scumbag."
Everyone knows to never mess with the goalie.
The other guy tries to hit Romeo's nose, but he blocks the flying fist with the palm of his hand. He isn't fast enough, though, because the other hand knocks his jaw, then his lips, bursting them open with the collision.
Romeo sees red—not only because their team captain came for Luca without a valid reason, but also because this idiot of a defenseman has ruined his perfect face.
Romeo strikes back, both hands grabbing the collar of his opponent's jersey, making the latter spin around to slam his back into the panel. His rival tries to destabilise him by holding his upper arms, trying to make him lose balance but Romeo pulls him forward, gritting his teeth before sending him flying to the floor.
Before he can throw himself at the man, wanting nothing but to ram his elbow into his stomach, a referee drags him away, shouting words he can't even hear through the loud buzzing ringing in his ears.
"Calm down!"
Funny to ask this when you've been hit square in the face and whilst your teammates are still fighting with other players from the opposite team.
A loud whistle echoes, and soon enough, the two teams are separated again.
Romeo knows best to not pick an unnecessary fight on the ice, especially when the chaos has ceased. From the corner of his eye, he sees Luca adjust his helmet whilst glaring at Braden.
Having been granted a few seconds to come back to reality, he skates away whilst taking his helmet off, shaking his hair as his chest heaves.
He catches a pair of chocolate eyes in the crowd and can't help the small smile spreading across his lips. She doesn't mirror his kind gesture as she scoots forward on the edge of her seat, a deep frown settling in between her brows. Though they hold stares for mere seconds, it is enough for Romeo to notice that flash of concern in her eyes.
He smirks, pulling his gloves off and using the pad of his thumb to wipe the trickle of blood staining the corner of his mouth.
Isla looks away, mumbling something in Nora's ear, but he knows he isn't going insane—she cares, though she won't ever admit it.
Romeo still feels like being the winner.
♣ ♣ ♣
"Hey, Ma', where are you?"
Pulling the hood of his sweater over his head, Romeo settles comfortably on his sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table. He stares at his screen, watching his mother place her phone on a table as she leans back in her seat.
"Seychelles," Sibylle says with a wide smile. She brings her sunglasses atop her head, her blonde fringe still baring her forehead.
Evidently sitting on a terrace, the beach in the background makes Romeo sigh with envy. When he looks outside, all he can see is a gloomy sky and a threat of rain ready to drown his town.
"Your father is trying to sell this gorgeous villa down the road," she continues, putting a cigarette in between her rouge lips before bringing a lighter up.
He puts a hand behind his head. "Anyone interested?"
Sibylle nods, inhaling deeply before letting a puff of smoke out of her mouth. "You know that singer from the band your sister likes?" She grabs a glass of wine from out of nowhere, the cigarette held in between two fingers whilst she brings the glass up to her lips. "Come on, help me here, Rome. He's pretty cute for someone your age—"
"Mom," he grumbles.
"What?" she exclaims sheepishly. She takes a sip of the white wine, before leaning forward to look at Romeo. She waves a finger at her screen. "What happened to your face?"
Romeo diverts his gaze to the little square on the left corner of his phone to stare at his reflection. He winces at the sight of his bruised jaw and abused lip.
"Hockey fight," he explains quietly. "I'm fine. I'm used to it."
"I know, honey." Romeo snorts softly when he observes Sibylle act so unfazed. She's seen Romeo is worse states than with a mere bruise on his face. "Be careful, though."
"I will."
Romeo listens intently to his mother talk about her trip around South Africa, a small smile on his lips.
"I miss you, Ma'," he cuts in when she goes on about planning a safari.
Sibylle's features soften. She and Romeo have the same eyes: a clear turquoise, almost like the ocean with golden flecks swimming around the pupils. Whilst Sibylle has dirty blonde hair, Romeo has inherited of Rob's dark locks and dimples.
She smiles. "I miss you, too, Rome. And your sister. We'll be back for Thanksgiving—I promise."
He nods, looking away when he sees Ezra walk into the kitchen dressed in nothing but boxer briefs. "I know."
"How's your sister doing, by the way?"
Romeo scoffs and looks back to Sibylle who sips coyly on her beverage. "She's your daughter."
"And Aïda's your sister," she bites back. "You should be more in touch with her."
Romeo rolls his eyes. "I called her right before calling you. She has regionals coming up next weekend."
Sibylle grins. She looks like she belongs to this paradise—sun-kissed skin and beach waves, a cigarette in hand with a glass of white. She looks happy, and that makes Romeo's chest warm.
"I'm proud of you both."
"Thanks, mama."
She grins, brows pumping in amusement. "Any girlfriend you'll introduce me to when I'm back?"
"No," he huffs. "You know I don't want the distraction."
Sibylle doesn't say anything, but the faint flicker in her eyes tell him she doesn't believe a word he says.
Killian jumps in the frame, wrapping an arm around Romeo's neck until he pins him in a chokehold. He grins, using his free hand to wave at Sibylle. "Hey, Mrs. Quinn! Damn, you look good. Where are you?"
"Seychelles," she replies in unison with her son. "How's my favourite boy doing?"
"Told you she loves me more than you," Killian snorts, nudging Romeo. The latter simply grumbles something beneath his breath. "I'm good! We kicked Boston College's ass today. 4-0, baby."
She lifts her glass in the air, winking. "I expect nothing less coming from you, boys."
Killian lets his friend go and straightens himself, adjusting his beanie atop his head. "I'm crashing your Thanksgiving dinner, by the way."
"You're family," Sibylle says sweetly. "Of course you can."
"It wasn't a question," Killian states before disappearing in the kitchen. "But thanks, Mrs. Quinn!"
"He's known me for sixteen years and still can't call me by my name? Unbelievable," she chuckles to herself. "Are you guys okay in the house?" Sibylle then asks Romeo.
"Yep," he answers, reaching to the coffee table to grab his glass of water. "Ma', I have a question for you."
She blows smoke in the air. "What?"
Taking a gulp of water, he takes a few seconds to contemplate the way to put in his inquiry. "What do you know about the Presley's?"
She shifts in her chair, putting a thigh over the other, elbow propped on the armrest as she holds the remnant of her cigarette. She furrows her brows, tilting her head to the side. "Luca Presley's family?"
Romeo only nods.
A soft scoff flies past Sibylle's mouth. She raises her brows before taking a long sip of her beverage. "Why do you ask?"
He lifts his shoulders in a small shrug and wonders if his mother can perceive the blush creeping up his neck. "I recently met their daughter, Isla."
"Oh," she says with a small smile. She observes Romeo for a heartbeat before putting her cigarette out in the receptacle. "You're suddenly interested in her?"
"No." Lie. "She's Luca's sister, which means she's off limits."
"Well, she sure is, honey. Your father won't be pleased if you date Isla or even Nora."
He frowns. "Why?"
"Shit," she breathes, bringing the rim of her cup to her lips. "I can't believe we never talked to you about this, even when you started playing with Luca." Her gaze settles on the horizon, the light breeze brushing her hair away from her face. "It happened years ago, but Adam Presley dated your aunt."
"Aunt CeCe?" He exclaims with stupefaction. Brows raised, he stares at his mother with parted lips.
"Yes," she says. "Your father and I had just started dating, and Cecily was very secretive about her new boyfriend. Can you imagine your father's reaction? First knowing his baby sister was dating some guy, then not knowing his identity? Trust me, it drove him insane."
It is no secret Rob Quinn and Adam Presley were rivals back in time. They didn't play for the same College, though—Adam studied in Harvard and Rob in Eden U, just like Romeo.
"Aunt CeCe and Adam Presley?" He repeats as though he can't believe it.
"Mmh," Sibylle hums whilst nodding. "They were in love. CeCe begged me to keep her secret, and I did. I'd cover up for her when she snuck out to see Adam. I drove her to his place, too."
"Then what happened?"
A pause before Sibylle drops her head, slightly shaking it whilst scoffing. "Then Adam went on a trip in London."
"And he met Isla's mom," he supposes.
Sibylle nods, meeting back his gaze. "It was love at first sight, I believe. But he broke CeCe's heart. She was so, so devastated. Your father was furious—when he learned who her boyfriend was, when he learned about his betrayal. Then Adam got drafted in the NHL, and your dad was so, so jealous he didn't get to achieve his dream."
His father started his real estate empire at the time. And today, he owns the biggest investment company in the world.
"What about Isla's mother when Adam started to play for the Bruins?"
Sibylle's mouth contorts in a frown. "She wouldn't leave London, so they had a long distance relationship. Then Adam got injured his rookie year, which made him move to London, and the rest is history."
Romeo releases a sigh. "Wow."
"Honey," she starts softly. A small line makes its appearance between her brows as she leans her chin in the palm of her hand. "Whatever you're thinking about... Are you sure it's worth it?"
If there is one person on this planet who knows him better than Killian does, it's his mother.
Romeo tips his head against the back of the sofa, his gaze settling on the blank ceiling. "Yeah, Ma', I think it is."
♣ ♣ ♣
When he enters the empty café, she doesn't turn around as she tucks a chair under a table.
"We're closed," Isla notes dully.
Romeo doesn't respond. Closing the door behind him, he leans against it just as she cranes her neck.
Surprise flickers across her face as she turns to face him. "Hey."
"Hi," he whispers.
He hasn't seen Isla since the night she was dragged out of his house by Luca. All she had managed to do was offer him a glance before disappearing in his rival's house. Well, he did see her earlier this morning at the game, but he didn't take the risk to talk to her afterwards.
"You're alone?" He notices all her co-workers are gone, the lights all switched off.
She puts her hands behind her, gripping the backseat of the chair. "As I said, we're closed."
"Whitney isn't here either?"
She looks down at his arms folded across his chest. "You're here for her?"
"You know I'm here for you."
Taking a few steps further into the dimly lit coffee shop, he tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
A small exhale flies past Isla's lips. She doesn't move, only watches him approach her carefully. "What do you want, Romeo?"
"We had a deal," he says quickly.
With a slight furrow of her brows, she saunters her gaze over his face. He wants to trace that crease that hardens her features, wants to make that tension disappear.
"Did we now?" she asks in a whisper.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, the nearly cataclysmic roar filling the void of silence for a few seconds.
He jerks his chin towards the parking lot. "I promised you'd get to drive my Porsche if you showed up to Bravo the other night."
Isla emits a soft scoff, biting the inside of her cheek to conceal her growing smile. When she looks away, he can't help but find her terribly exquisite with her hair tied in a rapid bun, dressed in jeans and a simple jumper.
Chocolate eyes meet blue ones. "You're one to keep promises, aren't you?"
"You'd be surprised," he grins. "So?"
Wiping her hands on her apron, she inhales before nodding. "Okay," she mumbles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Fine. Wait here."
Heat creeps up his face when she walks away, his head tipping backwards as he grins to himself. Idiot, a voice resonates in his head.
Just earlier he'd promised himself he would stay away from Isla—he doesn't need the distraction. Can't have a distraction right now. And he knows Luca gave her shit for finding her at his place the other night, but he also knows Isla is bold and fearless, and she probably gave Luca more shit for being annoying and controlling.
Isla comes back wearing a coat, digging inside her bag whilst frowning. When she finds her keys, she emits a quiet "ah" then ushers Romeo out of the café.
With one last look around, she flickers the few lights off and closes the front door.
Her perfume whiffs in the air, making Romeo smile softly. Isla Presley is a whole paradox—stone cold façade and nonchalant attitude, she smells like summer and flowers. He is certain she is hiding a heart of gold beneath that ice wall, but she must be guarding it for a specific reason.
"There." He throws her the car key, which she catches swiftly.
She glances at it with an arched brow. "You were being serious?"
"Yeah." He's already walking towards the Porsche, grinning.
"You're putting a lot of trust in me right now," she mumbles, following him regardless.
The fire alighting her eyes when she starts the car makes adrenaline pump through his veins. She listens to the roar of the engine, small hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.
"I've missed that sound." He's already looking at her when she catches his gaze, a soft smile spread across his lips.
"Go on," he gestures towards the gearbox. "Take Percival on a ride."
This is the first time Romeo hears Isla's laugh, and he swears it is the sweetest melody to ever exist. It sounds like a symphony of happiness, something he wouldn't mind replaying until it gets embedded in his mind.
"Percival?" She giggles. "Would it have been Sally if the car was light blue?"
His grin widens. "Only if it was a 911 Carerra."
Her chocolate eyes sparkle with delight when she realises he also got the reference.
Pushing the clutch with her left foot, she puts the car on reverse before getting out of the parking lot. Romeo doesn't know what impresses him the most: the fact she doesn't stall or the fact she drives a manual car like she was born in one.
"Who taught you to drive like that?" he asks as she speeds on the empty road. She goes in direction of the highway, and he makes himself comfortable on his seat.
He must have become insane—a fool. He has never let anyone drive his car, not even Aïda or Killian.
"My dad," she states, hand on the gearbox as she passes the fourth gear, the other resting on the bottom part of the wheel.
"Really?"
"Mmh," she hums, putting the blinker on as she glances in the rearview mirror. When she overtakes a car, he smirks as it begins—she accelerates again, the car taking off in lighting speed, the engine roaring loudly. "I used to kart a lot when I was a kid. There was a karting circuit right around the corner, so I'd spend my free time there."
"You weren't the typical girl wearing dresses and playing barbie, were you?" He connects the Bluetooth to the car, scrolling through his playlists until he finds the perfect one.
"Oh, I was," she snorts. "I just preferred cars more than playing with dolls and house, so girls at my school made fun of me."
"But you didn't care," he says quietly.
She glances at him. "Nope, I didn't."
This woman has piqued his interest in more ways than he cares to admit. "Do you still go karting?"
She frowns, shaking her head. "Not really. When hockey became Luca's main occupation, we stopped going to the karting circuit."
"Did you pick up ice skating?"
She chuckles, overtaking another car before putting the blinker on and going back on the right lane. Respectful yet skilled driver—she's the love of his life.
She offers him an amused glance. "Are we playing twenty-one questions?"
He winks. "I'd rather play a million questions with you, baby."
"Cocky bastard," she mumbles, though she smiles gently. "I'm not an interesting person, you know."
They get off the highway, now driving more slowly in town. They stop at a red light as drizzle starts to pour down.
"Why do you say that?" he asks, head tipped against the headrest. The street lights illuminate her caramel skin, accentuating her high cheekbones and plump mouth. "You're, like, the most interesting girl I've ever met."
Brown eyes collide with his. "You're only saying that because I'm not interested in hooking up with you."
"True," he admits with a sly grin. "But you have a story to tell, and I want to know about it."
So much for not wanting to be distracted by a girl. Romeo will make sure to smack himself on the head later tonight.
How come she is already able to make him lose control? It drives him mad. Drives him to insanity to know he'd get down on his knees just to get a glimpse of her heart. Perhaps that's what he must do to gain her trust: touch her soul before caressing her skin.
An unusual tenderness veils her eyes as she studies his features. She halts at the sight of his bruised jaw, and from the corner of his eye, he sees her fingers tick on the steering wheel—like she wants to reach out. Like she wants to touch his skin and brush the wound.
"It doesn't hurt, if you're wondering."
She shrugs. "I wasn't. You look like a tough guy, but that punch looked brutal."
Romeo snorts. "It fucking was." He lingers his gaze on her lips, nearly darting his tongue out to wet his own. "Isla?"
She whispers, "What?"
"Light's green, angel."
She huffs and he chuckles. But she drives off rapidly, quietly laughing when the engine screams with power in the quiet streets.
"People don't ask me questions," she says. "People aren't interested in me. Maybe I seem boring. The British girl, always on her own, always busy studying and working her arse off."
"Well," he breathes, "I'm not most people. I won't stop trying to get to know you."
She peers at him with glinting eyes. "You're not a quitter, are you?"
He passes a hand through his hair. "I don't give up, angel. Ever."
"Good for you," she utters quietly. "Now what's your story, loverboy?"
He looks out the window to hide his smile. He watches the droplets of water hit the window, rubbing the palm of his hand on his jeans. "Born and raised in Boston, been playing ice hockey ever since I could walk."
"Siblings?"
"Aïda," he smiles. "She's my baby sister. Well, she's twenty, but she's still a baby."
Isla chuckles, and he looks back at her to find her concentrated on the road as the rain starts to become heavy. "Does she go to Eden U, too?"
"No. She's in New York right now. She's an ice skater, and NYU has a really good skating program. She competes for regionals and all."
"Wow," she whispers, brows lifting in surprise. "That's amazing."
"Isn't it? Yeah, I'm proud of my little bean." He catches her eye, smiling broadly. "She'd like you."
"Why?" Isla snorts softly. "Because I keep rejecting you?"
Ouch. "Because you remind me of her. Bold, fearless, cunning but also fragile in some way."
Isla blinks. And just like that, she lets go of her cold façade. Lets go of that fear clouding her mind. She smiles tenderly, but doesn't say anything.
Step by step, he'll find the door that opens her heart.
"Okay, loverboy." Her voice slightly cracks but she only clears her throat. "Favourite band?"
The corners of his lips tip upwards to conceal the deceit seeping through his veins. "I can't tell you, angel. Can't tell you all my secrets or else there won't be any left for the next time."
"Next time?" When she cuts the engine, he notices they've stopped in front of her dorm building, and his heart drops.
He narrows his eyes. "I hope you're not thinking this was the only time we get to hang out and drive around."
She unbuckles her seat belt and slightly shifts until her shoulder is pressed to the seat and she fully faces Romeo. "Next time you're showing me your favourite bands."
He faces her as well, fighting the urge to grab her hand. "Only if you show me a place that makes you happy."
She nods, her lips pressing into a small smile. "You've got yourself a deal, Romeo."
For a few seconds, ocean blue stares intensely into bronze irises. The sound of the music plays softly in the background, the windows starting to get foggy as the rain falls violently outside.
"Thank you for letting me take Percival for a ride," she murmurs.
He breathes. "Anytime."
She reaches over to the backseat to grab her jacket and purse. "Well—Good night—"
"Wait," he catches her wrist just as she opens the door, making her close it back. His chest heaves as he leans closer, her summery scent enveloping his senses.
He expects her to say something, to move away, but he only manages to decipher the amber flicker in her eyes when he delicately tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. By the way her lips ever so slightly part, it is obvious she becomes feverish with expectations, too.
The rain pours down, ruthlessly so, the heavy droplets of water crashing onto the roof of the car as though wanting to pierce through their cosmos of tranquility—but the drowning universe doesn't matter in this exact moment. Nothing can attain them.
He can't do anything except feel the tremble of her body beneath his touch.
When he caresses her cheek, her eyes flutter, and he swears she leans into his touch—like she wants to feel more.
She doesn't move when he leans closer, her minty breath caressing the edges of his lips.
Romeo takes it as a sign—to finally kiss her. To finally do what he's been thinking of doing for weeks now.
And the moment mere millimetres stand between their parted mouths, a phone rings loudly, snapping the both of them out of their dream.
"Shit," she mumbles, backing away. Her cheeks are slightly tinted in crimson, and he knows his are as well. "I should go. And you should answer that call. Bye, Romeo."
He lets his phone ring as he watches the brunette run hastily under the rain. It is only when she reaches the front door of the building, with her hand on the handle that she turns. She catches Romeo's gaze, and returns the exact same look he is sending her way—a longing stare filled with secrets.
"Bye, Juliet."