When In Rome...Find Yourself: A Sweet New Adult Romance (8 page)

“Tell her that with our complexion, that qualifies as child abuse.”

“Yeah, that might work if she wasn’t the one who cursed us with this complexion. Or lack of one.”

Though Quinn wasn’t cursed with freckles, she was as fair-skinned as Rory, with the kind of lily whiteness that could get sunburned through a beach umbrella dripping sunscreen. But for some unfathomable reason, Winnie loved the beach. In truth, Rory sort of loved it, too.

She remembered that Rome had some beaches, and made a mental note to go see them, for photos if nothing else. When she finished her conversation with Quinn, she spent the evening sorting through her photos, cropping and editing until she had her best images. Before going to bed, she posted them online, then listened for Ned’s footsteps. He’d been intermittently walking around his room every now and then for most of the evening.

Rory checked to make sure the hallway was empty and Ned’s door was closed before darting into the bathroom. She wondered what Ned was doing in there. Was he pacing because he felt bad about what had happened? She should probably apologize. He must think she was a total schizo to have rushed off like that over nothing. How could she possibly tell him not to feel guilty, that she’d run away not because she hadn’t liked what he’d done, but because she had?

Of course, she couldn’t tell him something like that. First, because then he’d know that she liked it, and second, because saying something like that might literally kill her. And she couldn’t do that to her parents after what had happened to her brother.

When she’d gotten ready for bed, she turned the knob to the bathroom door and peeked out. She slammed shut the bathroom door again, her heart racing. Oh, crap. Ned was in the hall. What now? He’d been standing there, obviously waiting for the bathroom. And she’d slammed the door in his face. If he didn’t think she was certifiable before, he would now.

She fumbled her phone from her pocket and texted Quinn. “Help! I’m stuck in the bathroom and Ned is outside the door. What should I do?”

“Did you just stink up the bathroom?” Quinn texted back a minute later. She completed her adorable message by adding a poop emoji.

Rory dropped her forehead against the door. Oh, no. What if he thought she’d been in there so long because she was pooping, and that’s why she’d slammed the door, because she was embarrassed for him to use the bathroom after her? This was even worse than she’d thought. How had she imagined that living with a guy might be a good thing?

She texted back. “Ew, no! But how do I get out without having to talk to him? He’s in the hall!”

“Upstairs or down? Is there a window?”

“Upstairs. I’m going to die.”

“He’s not a serial killer. Just pretend he’s not there.”

Rory didn’t really have much choice, unless she was going to sleep in the bathtub. And although it was an ancient claw foot, adorable really, it didn’t look particularly comfy. She dried her clammy hands with a towel, then squeezed them into fists and took a breath. She could do this. Like Quinn had said, she’d just waltz on by like he wasn’t even there.

With a giant heave, she yanked open the door. She threw it open so forcefully that it rebounded off the wall with a thud. Ned wasn’t there. She raced to her room, yanked open the door, rushed inside, and slammed the door as she dove onto her bed like a defender recovering a loose football. The headboard rattled against the wall. Holding her breath, she waited, listening for Ned, but all she could hear was her own heartbeat reverberating in her eardrums.

Get a grip
, she scolded herself.
This is ridiculous
.

After switching off the lamp, she lay in bed, listening to the quiet rhythm of Ned’s music. It sounded like Bob Marley tonight. His door had been open when she ran to her room, so she didn’t hear him leaving until his footsteps passed her room. Her heart leapt into her throat again. Although it had weirded her out to have a guy housemate, she’d never thought it all the way through before. What if he came into her room in the night? She was so vulnerable.

When the shower went on in the bathroom, she crept to her door in the dark and locked it. Only when she was back in bed did she remember that they’d made plans to go to Milan the next day—all of them. Ned had already been, and he’d volunteered to show them around a little. Kristina had wanted to do more shopping, and the others had all agreed to go, too. Rory would have to come up with a good excuse. She couldn’t spend another day with Ned. She was already thinking about him more than she should.

She knew how pathetic someone like Kristina would find her if she told them about it. About how Ned had touched her hair, and now she thought she might like him. That was really all it took for her. She was that clueless and desperate. The first time a guy did anything even remotely out of the ordinary, and she was sure it meant he was madly in love. Because guys didn’t do that to just any girl, a girl they weren’t interested in.

Riiiiiight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course it had meant nothing.

Maybe she would ask Maggie, though. Just to make sure.

CHAPTER eight

The next morning, Rory woke to the sound of the shower running, the same sound she’d fallen asleep to. This time, it must be Theresa, since Ned had showered the night before. She was glad her house mother was up and around, and hopefully feeling better. She lay in bed a while, replaying the long day she’d had on Saturday. When she thought about how irrational and childish she’d acted the night before, she was embarrassed all over again.

She got up and grabbed a towel out of the linen closet in the hall. After acting like such an idiot the day before, she wasn’t sure she wanted to endure an entire day in Milan with Ned. She was debating whether to slip out of the house before Ned woke up when he emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wearing only a towel tied around his waist.

“Hey, what’s up,” he said, like nothing had happened at all the day before.

Because it didn’t
, Rory reminded herself.

But he only said it like a meaningless comment, not like he really wanted to know what was going on with her. And he didn’t stop walking, just brushed past her into his room, and pulled the door closed behind him. She heard the lock click into place.

The inferno that was Rory Hartnett stood motionless in the hallway, lava coursing through her veins.

Did he think she was going to run into his room, rip off his towel, and devour him? Was she that transparent? Why else would he lock the door while he was getting dressed?

She touched the wet spot on her shoulder where his arm had brushed her shirt. That very water had been on his bare skin. Her face heating at the thought, she crept into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then snuck down the hall and started down the stairs, holding her breath as each one creaked and groaned more loudly than the last. Finally she made it to the bottom and let out her breath. Okay, no way was she going to spend the day with Ned. Way too awkward.

A thought jolted Rory from her discomfort about Ned—she hadn’t seen Theresa yet. She’d checked on her a couple times the evening before, but she’d been passed out cold. What if she’d…died or something? Rory rushed to the couch and found it empty. She let out a breath of relief. Of course she hadn’t died. She’d been fine the night before. And now, Rory heard the sound of computer keys from behind the door under the stairs. She’d assumed the tiny room under the stairs was storage, but it must be the world’s smallest office.

She headed for the kitchen and grabbed a couple pieces of bread. As she was buttering them, Ned shuffled in.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, like someone who hadn’t run away when he’d touched her hair and hidden in her room the rest of the night, and slammed the bathroom door in his face instead of coming out of it.

Ned reached for the bread, not meeting her eyes. She shoved it across the counter at him so she wouldn’t have to risk touching his hand during transfer. He sliced off two pieces and twisted the bag closed while Rory retreated to the table. If she didn’t think it would be unmannerly, she’d have taken it to her room. But she didn’t know how Theresa felt about eating in bed. She did it all the time at home, but this was someone else’s home.

“Ready?” Ned asked after rummaging in the refrigerator.

“Oh. I mean…for?”

“Milan.”

“Um.” She glanced at the little door under the stairs. “I thought, you know, maybe I’d stay here. In case Theresa needs me.”

“You seen her today?”

“No,” Rory admitted, wanting to take a bite but too nervous that he’d ask her another question, and she’d be caught with her mouth full of bread.

Ned gave her a strange look as he passed, holding a sandwich made of the white bread Theresa always had, with the crusty outsides, and some ham hanging out the sides. He tapped on the door to the little office and stuck his head in. Rory took a bite of bread, trying to hear what Ned and Theresa were saying without scooting closer and overtly eavesdropping.

After a few minutes, Ned came back to the kitchen. “She’s fine,” he said. “I’m going to get Jelly started. Come out when you’re ready.”

With that, he left the house, leaving Rory to wonder how she’d ended up going on this Milan trip. It was going to be hell enduring the awkwardness all day. But she couldn’t think of another excuse that wouldn’t make it obvious that she just didn’t want to go. After failing at the first excuse, the rest would be transparent, and she didn’t want to make him think she didn’t want to go with him. Giving up, she gathered her purse and trudged out the door. Tom hissed viciously, his needle-sharp teeth exposed and his fur standing on end.

“Geez, gimme a break,” Rory muttered as she passed.

It was still early, so the car wasn’t hot yet. Outside, the air was cool but moist, carrying a slight fishy odor that must have blown in from the sea. For a second, it reminded her of Cape Cod, where her sister would be still awake, reading late into the night. But then a taxi flew by, bleating its horn to warn Ned not to pull out in the road, and the illusion was shattered. The stink of exhaust invaded the car through the open windows as a delivery truck lumbered past, followed by a scooter and an Audi. Nothing like her usual summer vacation.

And this wasn’t a vacation. She had classes and work to do. Today, she would get some better pictures to make up for the lack on her blog so far. It had nothing to do with Ned. He was just the chauffeur.

They met up with the others, who had already gotten bus tickets to Milan. Rory and Ned got in line to get tickets, having not spoken a word since leaving Theresa’s. She could feel the awkwardness physically prickling her skin.

“A ticket to Milan,” Ned said. “Or, two tickets, I guess.”

Rory fumbled open her wallet and thrust a wad of bills at Ned without bothering to count them. He handed her back a ticket and her change, reaching for his wallet and arranging his own bills in it to avoid looking at her. This was going to be a long day.

On the bus, Kristina and Maggie sat together. Cynthia and Nick sat together. Which left Rory to sit with Ned or obviously shun him by asking to sit alone or with a stranger. To avoid making that choice, she sank into an empty seat, turning her face resolutely to the window. Then she realized that she’d left herself open to rejection, in front of all her classmates. What if Ned chose to sit alone or with a stranger, obviously shunning
her?

Instead, he dropped into the seat beside her. She relaxed a little, relieved that he’d saved her the humiliation, even if he’d forced the awkwardness to continue. When the bus started off, she could hear everyone around them chatting excitedly about what they wanted to see and do in Milan.

She gave herself a stern pep talk and pried her face away from the window. “It’s a nice day,” she said. “It should be good for walking around in Milan. Not too hot, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Ned said.

“Is there anything in particular you wanted to show us?”

“I figured since you missed the best pizza in Rome yesterday, we’d have the best pizza in Milan today.”

“You know the best pizza in Milan already?”

He shrugged. “I can find the best pizza anywhere. It’s a gift.”

“Oh.” Rory clenched and unclenched her fists, smoothed her skirt over her knees. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. I don’t want to pry or anything. If it’s not something you want to talk about. It’s really none of my business.”

He gave her a quizzical look. Why had she thought the day wasn’t hot? She was burning up. Sweating already. She’d probably sweat right through her shirt, and then look like a gross slob with pit-stains all day. Next to the immaculately dressed, sophisticated Italian women, she’d look like dog.

See Spot run.

“How long have you been here?” she asked. “Because I thought you were studying abroad here and you’d just gotten here a week or two before me. Maybe, like, a month. But you know so much about Italy…”

“I did some study abroad classes last semester,” Ned said. “Then I just…stayed.”

“But I saw you at the university.”

“I took another class.”

She wanted to ask more, but she didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it. He didn’t seem in a very talkative mood. So she turned back to the window. The tension had dissipated some while they talked, but as the bus sped along, mile by mile, it increased again, growing more and more painful. In the seat across the aisle, Kristina was trying to convince Maggie to hang out with some guy they’d met at the club, and Maggie was reminding her that she had a boyfriend of a very long time. Behind them, Cynthia and Nick were joking around about trying on clothes in Milan.

“I know I want a woman’s perspective when I’m buying something new,” Nick said. “And I’m sure their dressing room policy is much laxer in Milan. They probably encourage co-ed dressing rooms.”

“Why do guys always want to show off their junk?” Cynthia asked. “I mean, I don’t go around asking you to join me in the dressing room and check out the goods.”

“You could,” Nick said. “I’d probably indulge you.”

“Oh, really?” Cynthia said. “How generous.”

“I thought so.”

“Guys have no idea what style is,” Cynthia said. “All you notice is how much cleavage we’ve got showing.”

“Can you blame us?” Nick asked.

Rory closed her hands into fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She really, really hoped Ned was not listening to this. But there was no way she was braving a look at him. All the blood in her body was already pooling in her face. It was as uncomfortable as the time she and Quinn had mistakenly thought
Sisters
was a fun family movie and watched it with their parents. She had sweated so much during that two-hour raunch-fest that she feared she might suffer dehydration afterwards.

The bus finally reached Milan after what felt like a hundred years. Rory’s shirt was sticking to her back when she stood up from her seat. She pulled it away as discretely as possible, cursing herself that she’d gotten off the bus in front of Kristina, who would definitely notice and probably comment. She breathed a sigh of relief when Kristina didn’t mention it. But of course she wouldn’t. She probably didn’t even notice Rory was there.

They walked through the city for a while, stopping to get pastries and coffee late in the morning. Since Ned was busy playing tour guide, Rory didn’t have to talk to him much. She busied herself taking pictures and ignoring him. Maggie was interested in photography, too, so Rory stuck by her and didn’t even glance at Ned for most of the morning.

They took a taxi to the shopping district, where Kristina tried on what seemed like every piece in every store. No matter how expensive, no matter how upscale, she seemed unaware of the inconvenience she was causing all the salespeople who had to get her the right sizes and put back all the items she didn’t want.

Rory would never be able to order around the sales clerks at a thrift store like that, let alone Armani and Gucci stores. She’d never feel like she belonged, like she had the right to try on anything there. Her parents had put up enough money for her to come on the trip. She wasn’t going to inconvenience them by asking for money for clothes. But Kristina had no qualms about it.

In the afternoon, Ned finally said he was hungry, and they headed out for the pizza place he liked. It was on a big plaza, where they watched shoppers and exquisitely dressed Italians wander by. Everyone in Milan looked so polished, so glamorous. Rory pushed her glasses up her sweating nose. Ned was explaining the appeal of craft beer to Nick.

“So, you and Ned…?” Cynthia prompted, elbowing Rory and giving her that conspiratorial smile.

“Oh,” Rory said, swallowing a lump of half-chewed pizza. “Um, what about it?” She darted a glance at Ned. He was looking right at her. She swallowed again, her armpits breaking out in a sweat.

“He’s pretty cute,” Cynthia said. “Are y’all, like, together?”

“No,” Rory said, her voice breaking so she barely whispered the word. She cleared her throat. “No, we’re just friends.”

Ned was still talking to Nick. Maybe he hadn’t heard what she said.

But that was silly. Why did he care? They
were
just friends. He obviously knew that. If she’d said otherwise, he would have thought she was even more psycho than he already did. He would have said the same thing if Nick asked him. But guys didn’t ask each other that kind of thing. At least not in her experience, which was admittedly not much.

“In that case, you should come out dancing with us next time,” Cynthia said. “Kristina met this guy, and he has tons of friends. I’m totally going to hook up with one of them. I mean, when else am I going to have a chance to find an international man of mystery?”

“What about Nick?”

“Oh, we’re just friends, too,” Cynthia said. “And I can always hang out with him at home. While I’m here, I’m going to do Italy all the way, if you know what I mean.” She grinned wickedly and nudged Rory. “You in?”

“Um, okay,” Rory said, though she had no intention of breaking her pact with Quinn or any desire to hook up with some random stranger she’d never see again after their trip was over. Cynthia made it sound so easy, like hooking up meant nothing. Kristina was like that, too. But it meant a lot to Rory. More than a lot. It meant she’d probably fall for someone the way she’d fallen for Jack, and she wasn’t about to go down that road again anytime soon.