Sweet Rome (Sweet Home) Read Online Free Page A

piss me off and then I’d come off like an asshole.
    Golden brown eyes drank me in—the usual—and then… nothing .
    Snatching the papers from my hands, the chick tried to take off. No stuttered recognition, no flirting, just… rushing to get the hell away from me.
    What the—
    I wondered for a moment if she didn’t know who I was. But… nah, we were in Bama. She was at UA. Every fucker knew my face, whether I liked it or not.
    Without realizing it, I took hold of her wrist. “Y’okay?”
    She didn’t look up but politely muttered, “I’m fine.”
    Negative.
    Still no eye contact.
    Still no recognition.
    “You sure?” I asked again—absolutely no idea why.
    I saw it in her shoulders: she was done with the day. Her long, black lashes fluttered on her cheeks before her caramel eyes fixed on mine. The wind knocked right out of my chest, and I couldn’t seem to move.
    “You ever have one of those days where everything turns into a bloody nightmare?” she asked tiredly.
    English. Not English like the queen, though. Her accent had a lilt to it that I couldn’t place. Christ, but it was hot.
    “Having one myself, actually.”
    Her tight eyes softened and she sighed. “Then that makes two of us.” Full lips crooked into a smile.
    My heart did something it never had before.
    It felt.
    It felt something… indescribable. Each subsequent beat seemed louder and heavier than ever before and I started freaking the hell out.
    “Thank you for stopping to help me. It was very nice of you,” she said politely, the sentiment snapping me right back to reality.
    Nice? Don’t think so.
    Her eyes measured me, waiting patiently for a response.
    “Nice. Not normally what people say when they’re talking about me,” I said, finally seeing sense. What the fuck was going on?
    I watched as her lips parted slightly, sucking in a sharp, shocked breath. I had to get the hell out of here, away from her, and stop acting like some damn dumbstruck pussy. Hell, I was acting like Reece.
    I walked off without looking back, realizing that was the longest damn conversation I’d had with anyone in a long time, and it didn’t involve anything about being the shitting oil prince of Bama or the next big football star. There was something different about her, something… intriguing. Like she didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of her, wasn’t caught up in the football hype. Her outfit and her reaction to me were proof of that. It was… refreshing, if not a little strange.
    Almost as if I watched from a detached body, my boots abruptly ground to a halt and I looked over my shoulder. Brit girl was still standing on the same spot, still looking in my direction. “I’m Rome,” I offered, almost involuntarily, the words spilling out of my mouth as her eyes met mine.
    Her long lashes fluttered down, touching the lenses of her glasses, and when they lifted, a shy smile transformed her face. “Molly.”
    I nodded and licked my lips, roved my gaze down her body, then made my way to class.
     
    “Rome Prince, I take it?” the stuffy new philosophy professor said with a raised gray eyebrow as I sauntered into the classroom, nodding a silent greeting and making my way to my seat on the back row. She’d no doubt been briefed; teachers knew the score when football was in season. Of course, those from outside the States never quite got their heads around the fact that we, the players, got special permission to miss classes when on away games, or could rock up late after practice with no repercussions.
    Climbing the steps slowly, I avoided Shelly’s laser-beam attention until it was no longer an option. I slipped into my usual seat beside her, her snake arm sliding over my thigh as soon as my ass hit the wooden seat. Ally, my cousin, who I normally sat next to in class, couldn’t make it today, leaving me all alone with Shelly.
    Perfect.
    “Hey, Rome,” she said, all breathy, trying her best to be seductive. Shelly, to most of the male