When In Rome...Find Yourself: A Sweet New Adult Romance (16 page)

Rory reached for her glasses, her fingers groping blindly on the nightstand until she found them. She dried them on Ned’s tangled sheet while he grabbed up an armload of something—papers?—and shoved them aside, then grabbed something yellow—towel?—off a chair and threw it on the floor. By the time he’d mopped up the rain, Rory had replaced her glasses and could see again for about two seconds before Ned snapped off the light and joined her on the bed again.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

It was as if the words had jumped out of her mouth a second before her mind caught up. But then she knew they were the right ones.

“We don’t have to,” he said. But he was leaning in like he was about to kiss her again. Yellow light filtered in from the city outside, casting shadows across his face.

Her fingers shook so hard she had trouble buttoning her wet shirt. She wasn’t even sure of all the reasons, but she had to leave. If she let him kiss her, she would want more, and she was too weak to break away and once she started. She wouldn’t be able to control herself, and she’d repeat all the same mistakes, and she’d hate herself all over again.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, catching her elbow. “You don’t have to leave. We won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“I know. It’s not that,” she said. “I just…I have to go. I’m not ready for this.”

“Okay.” He sat back, and she could see the emotions crossing his face as clearly as if they were written there—hurt, frustration, confusion, guilt. If he was the rare guy who took the time to really see things, to understand how other people felt, he certainly hadn’t learned to hide his own emotions. In that, he was nothing like Jack, who not only failed to recognize other people’s feelings but also his own. If he even had any, besides hunger and horniness. She supposed he must have, though he’d have been the first to deny it.

She wished she could explain it to Ned, tell him it wasn’t his fault, but she wasn’t even sure she could explain it to herself. He reminded her of Jack, and he didn’t, and she had changed, but she hadn’t.

“I have to go,” she said again, and she fled from his room before he could ask questions that she couldn’t answer. In her room, she shed her wet clothes and climbed into her pajamas, then into bed. The rain pounded outside, and lightning lit up the night sky. She thought about calling her sister, but she wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, not even Quinn.

What had just happened? She’d gone to the club and mostly ignored him, which she’d thought wasn’t working the way Kristina said it would, but it must have been. Maybe it had worked too well. She’d gotten him a little more than she’d anticipated, more than she was ready to deal with. When she’d come to Rome, she’d never meant to have to deal with these kinds of things. She was not prepared, had not guarded her heart well enough. And while she didn’t think Ned was going to simply discard her like Jack had, she didn’t know what he was after.

She lay there wide awake for a while, waiting for him to come knock on her door. What if he did, what would she say? What if he didn’t?

It wasn’t just the pact she’d made with her sister, with herself, that scared her away. It was the exuberance of his paintings, the way he smiled like he was the one who had won. It was the way his hands shook when he touched her. It was the wet clothes clinging to her, and the fact that she couldn’t see what was happening, and the way that made it feel like it was happening to someone else, like she was just watching it happen to her, like it had always been with Jack.

It was too much like it had always been. He was too much like Jack, with the pot and the drinking, the obsession with his art, the presumptuousness, like it never occurred to him that she might not want to be with him. She did, but she didn’t want that to be the reason that she was with him. She didn’t want to pray for things to happen to her anymore. When she’d come to Rome, she’d been firm in her vow to herself. The minute a guy came along, was she just going to abandon that? What would her sister think of her then? She couldn’t do that to Quinn.

If they were playing games, she had obviously won. She’d gotten Ned to show his hand, and she hadn’t shown hers. She’d rejected him. The thought startled her wide awake again. For once, she hadn’t waited for some guy to call her to his room and then snuck out as unobtrusively as possible, giving him anything he wanted and making things as easy for him as possible. She had rejected a guy. A guy she liked, too. Her resolve had been tested, her vow of celibacy brought into question. And she had been the one to stop. She had been the one to walk away.

All along, she’d thought she was too weak to say no, but she had been strong enough to stick to her love boycott under the toughest circumstances. She had succeeded in her goal. But for some reason, it didn’t feel as good as she’d thought it would. Even though she’d proven to herself that she could stick to her guns, she didn’t feel like she’d won. Instead, she had to go to sleep by herself, knowing Ned was next door wondering what he’d done, if he’d messed up, why she’d run away. She knew those self-doubts all too well.

She wanted to get up and slink back into his room and apologize, but she couldn’t do it just then. He was probably too mad. And he had a right to be, after she’d run out like a nutcase again. One of these times, he was going to give up. The thought made her stomach curdle. She didn’t want him to give up. She liked him. A lot.

Tomorrow, she would apologize and explain herself. Her real self, not the one Kristina had coated in makeup and squished into tight clothes, the one who danced with other guys to make Ned jealous. She didn’t want to be that person any more than she wanted to be the coward who waited for a guy to call all the shots. But she also didn’t want to be the kind of person who treated people the way Jack had treated her, disappearing with no explanation.

CHAPTER seventeen

Rory woke to the overly earnest, heartfelt pleas of Brody Villines to be his baby doll. “Quinn,” she growled, “Turn it down!”

She pulled her pillow over her head and tried to go back to sleep, though her head was throbbing and her eyes were scratchy and dry. But something was wrong, because first of all, the smell of her bed was wrong, and second, Quinn would never get up earlier than Rory. When she sat up, her pillow tumbled to the floor. Sun streamed mercilessly through the window, and she was already damp and sweaty from the heat seeping in through the screen.

Well. Apparently Ned had decided the appropriate punishment for rejecting him was to force her to listen to loud boyband music. At seven in the morning. When she hadn’t gone to bed until two. She clambered from her bed and glanced out the window at the steamy day outside before stumbling to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she looked in the mirror, she saw with horror that all the mascara and eyeliner Kristina had piled around her eyes had run down her face in the rain the night before. Which meant Ned had kissed her while she looked like a hot mess.

Even with the water running, she could hear the music clearly enough to recognize one of Quinn’s favorite songs, “Whistle At You.” Which reminded her, she needed to talk to Quinn. Her sister would find it absolutely hilarious that Ned was revenge-blasting Brody.

After a text confirming that Quinn was awake, they set up a video chat while she got dressed. “Can you hear it?” Rory asked, turning the laptop towards Ned’s room. She’d forgotten to plug in her phone the night before, so she plugged it in to get a little charge while she used her laptop to talk.

“Not really,” Quinn said. “That’s too bad. Which album is it?”

“I don’t know,” Rory said. “I can’t even remember if it’s one with the band or his solo album. They all sound the same to me.”

Quinn’s pretty face turned indignant. “Now you’re just trying to hurt me.”

Rory laughed and pulled on her nautical shirt. She wanted to wear it with the yellow skirt, but Kristina had chopped it too short for a visit to the Vatican. While she picked a longer skirt, she told Quinn about the outing she was going on. And about Ned.

“Sounds to me like somebody’s falling in love,” Quinn teased. She didn’t sound disappointed in her big sister at all. In fact, she was grinning her face off.

“No way,” Rory said. “I’d never break our pact.”

“You can’t help it if it happens.”

“Oh my gosh, Quinn. What do I do?”

“Avoidance hasn’t worked out that well for me. Maybe confront him. Tell him he’s being a child.”

“I don’t think that’s going to help.”

“Then tell him you’re sorry. I don’t know. Guys are weird.”

Rory knew then that she’d called the wrong person. Of course she wanted to talk to her sister, but she couldn’t ask her for advice. She needed Kristina this time. That’s when it hit her—they were friends. For the first time since Patty, she had a friend outside her family. After Jack, she’d only hung out with that group once or twice a month. Patty had a new best friend, and Jack had other girlfriends. Everyone was nice to her, but she never fit in even to the small degree she had when she’d been sleeping with Jack.

But now, she had someone to ask for advice who might actually know more about guys than she did. And she was about to see her, so she didn’t even have to risk calling and being told to grow up and deal with it herself. Ned
was
acting like a child…but she wasn’t doing much better.

“But hey, good job staying strong,” Quinn said. “I mean, you were put to the test and you passed. Wasn’t that your ultimate goal? To prove you could do it?”

“Yeah,” Rory said, though she didn’t feel very triumphant. She had to say goodbye then and go out to meet her group. She hesitated outside Ned’s door, trying to come up with an apology. What could she say? She’d already apologized.

Summoning every bit of courage she possessed, she tapped on the door. After a minute, when he still hadn’t answered, she raised her hand to knock again. Maybe he hadn’t heard. He had his music up so loud. But then she thought maybe he had heard her, maybe he wasn’t answering because he didn’t want to, because he didn’t want to see her or talk to her.

She turned and left without knocking again. She wasn’t going to throw herself at him and beg forgiveness. You couldn’t make someone forgive you if they didn’t.

“Guys are fragile,” Kristina said when they’d joined her on the bus and Rory had filled them in. “They pretend they’re all tough, but their egos can’t handle the slightest slight. You really have to tread carefully.”

“He’s being a complete ass,” Cynthia said. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“We don’t know the whole story,” Maggie said. “But yeah, sorry. It doesn’t sound good. Unless he apologizes, I say you need to stay away from that guy.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Kristina said. “At least let him explain. He’s a person, too. Maybe he has a reasonable explanation.”

Rory was surprised to hear that coming from the girl who was all about playing games, and winning, and treating guys like the opposition to be conquered. But then, she didn’t know Kristina that well. She probably had all kinds of surprises, like everyone else.

Soon, they arrived at the Vatican to hear the Pope give mass and explore the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel. It was the perfect day for it, when her mind was racing with a thousand thoughts and feelings, to get lost in a museum and her camera. So that’s what she did. She managed to not think of Ned again for the whole afternoon. But as they rode back, he was all she could think about. Again.

“Just confront him,” Maggie said on the bus. “Trust me, it will be so much worse if you don’t. You’ll have to tiptoe around in your own house for the next three weeks.”

Maggie was right. It was worse to wonder. Even if it turned out he was a complete and total jerk, at least she’d know it. At least she wouldn’t walk around wondering if she’d made the right choice. She didn’t want to be the idiot who dumped a guy over a misunderstanding without even hearing his side of it. Like Kristina said, he was a person, too. She could give him the benefit of the doubt, couldn’t she?

But as she walked the few blocks to Theresa’s, her stomach roiled with nerves. What could she say to him? She remembered the way he’d looked at her, that sleepy-eyed hungry look, right before he kissed her. And how he’d kissed her, so slowly, not like he wanted to tear her clothes off and toss her on the bed. Which she wouldn’t have minded, really. If he’d done that, things would be different now. But he’d given her time to say no.

So why had he been such a jerk in the morning?

At the house, she stood on the front step for a good two minutes, turning to go in, then turning back to the street, then turning back to the door. She had nowhere else to go. She had to go inside. But maybe not just yet. She needed time to think, to clear her mind. To decide.

With one more glance back at the house, she hurried up the street. Walking always cleared her mind, especially if she had her camera with her and could take pictures. She stopped to take a picture of the houses on the street, crowded so close that someone could sit on the windowsill and pass a joint back and forth with the person in the next house. Thinking about that made her think about Ned again.

Did she really want to invest in a relationship that would have to be long distance after three more weeks? Sure, it would be fun to have a boyfriend for a few weeks, and to say she had a boyfriend after that. But if she never got to see him, what was the point?

She stepped off to the side to take a picture of a bank of red mailboxes, then framed them and took a shot straight on before continuing.

Really, Kentucky wasn’t that far from Arkansas. They could visit during holidays. And she only had one more year of school. If it worked out, and they wanted to keep it going, a year wasn’t so long to wait for him. She’d already been waiting for two years for someone she could love. Not that she loved Ned. Not yet. But she knew that she could. If she let herself fall in love with him, it would be quick and deep, like it had been with Jack. But what if it ended like Jack?

She couldn’t afford to retake any classes her senior year. And her parents sure as hell weren’t going to pay for more classes because she couldn’t get herself out of bed. They’d been more than sympathetic the first time, for longer than she deserved, really. But they’d been right to make her go back to school sophomore year, against her will, without her scholarship. They’d been right to make her get a job. They hadn’t come right out and said it was to teach her the value of their hard-earned money, which was now paying for her school since she’d lost her scholarship, but they’d implied it. And they were right.

When Rory spotted a little café, she stopped to take pictures of the people eating, zooming in on them from afar so they wouldn’t know she was doing it. Her stomach was all twisted up in knots from nerves, so she made a quick stop in the café and asked to use the bathroom. The guy at the counter didn’t speak English, and for a second, she wished Ned was there to help her out. But in the end, her faulty Spanish proved effective enough, and she used the bathroom and dashed out, too embarrassed to look at the people in the café.

Back outside, she took a deep breath and clenched and unclenched her fists. She could do this. She didn’t need Ned with her to navigate the city. She’d gone to the store before. And now, she wasn’t even looking for anything, so it didn’t matter if she didn’t make it to her destination. She had no destination.

She’d been debating calling Maggie to see if she wanted to get dinner with her, but she decided against it. Her phone was almost dead again, having only had time for a little charge that morning, and she needed to be alone to really think. The girls had already given their opinions, and asking for more would be rehashing the same details over and over, which she’d done after Jack until Patty told her she was unbearably annoying. At least she’d been honest about it.

Rory didn’t want to annoy her new friends. She wanted to figure out what to do. Should she talk to Ned? Apologize again? See if he had an apology for her?

After all, she’d already apologized. And she wasn’t even sure what she had to be sorry for. If she didn’t want to sleep with him, he should respect that. He had no right to be mad at her. So what if she hadn’t wanted to stay and make out afterwards? That was her choice. But then why was she feeling so guilty about it?

She knew why. Because if he’d rejected her, she would have been just as hurt. The thing was, she hadn’t really rejected him. Or she hadn’t meant to. She really liked him. She just didn’t want to sleep with him…yet. In the moment, she had. But he hadn’t given her time to explain that. He’d just decided to blast boyband music at an obscene hour, as Quinn was so fond of calling the morning hours.

Anger and guilt swirled through her mind as she walked. Why should she apologize for saying no? And why should she feel guilty for it, like she’d hurt him?

She had hurt him, that was why. She’d seen it on his face.

But why was it that girls always had to apologize, even when the guy was being a jerk, like she’d somehow denied him his right to her body?

By the time she realized her stomach was growling from hunger and not nerves, there was not a café in sight. In fact, she’d lost track of her surroundings a bit as she walked, taking pictures and mulling over her frustration with herself and with Ned. For a second, she froze, her heart hammering and adrenaline squirting through her veins. She squeezed her hands into fists.

Control the anxiety or it controls you.

Okay. She had this. She had her phone, which had enough juice left to tell her where she was, and where the nearest restaurant could be found.

God bless the smartphone.

Her legs were rubbery as she started off again, watching her location point on the screen move. She could do this. Yes, she’d had a moment of panic, but she was okay. She didn’t have panic attacks like Theresa. She wasn’t going to break down in the middle of Rome. She could do this. She could go out by herself, find a restaurant, and eat dinner.

But then she saw the tiny line inside the battery icon on her screen. She’d never make it back to Theresa’s with that. If she was lucky, she’d make it to the restaurant. Of course she always came prepared, so she’d brought her emergency charger to Rome with her. But she hadn’t taken it to the Vatican that day. Why would she?

What if her phone died, and she couldn’t find her way back, and she spent what little money she had with her on food and then she had to beg food on the street, and then she had to sell off her camera and her phone to eat, and sleep on the street? What if she had to resort to prostitution just to feed herself, and then she got pregnant, and then she had to take care of a baby while living under a bridge?

When she saw the restaurant, she was so relieved she actually started running. She arrived out of breath and probably looked completely nuts when she burst through the door, her phone clutched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were white, sweat rings under her arms, face red as a fire hydrant. But she couldn’t muster the embarrassment the situation warranted. She let the host lead her to a tiny table in the back corner. At least no one could see her there, which may have been the reason the host hid her back there. She was too grateful to be offended.