Roman Holiday - By Ashleyn Poston Page 0,39

the air. "And this is why I don't trust people! This is why I shouldn't trust people. Because you are all the same."

Boaz puts a hand on Roman's shoulder to calm him down, but he just shoves Boaz off. "Bro-ha, you're the one who bought her the ice cream."

"Yeah." He glares. "My mistake. And now I can't even stay for my best friend's vigil because of her."

Those words, above the sharp and scathing knives in his voice, pierce the deepest. I know how much Holly meant to him, because my dad meant more to me than the whole world. The last thing I would want would be to prevent him from seeing his best friend.

My throat tightens.

Did Roman ever trust me? All those smooth words and quixotic glances? The kiss? Were they all to just to get me into bed with him before the week was through, and then leave me like some old, abandoned piece of luggage?

"So John was right," I reply sharply. "You just wanted another score, right? All that bullshit about not being a man-whore? Thought you could keep me your dirty little secret?"

His face turns stony. "No, that's not what I wanted."

"Well, I'm done being someone's secret. And stop pointing the blame at me! You're the one who bought me the condoms. So, screw you, asshole."

A timid knock taps at the door. The manager, the voice says form the other side. Boaz and Roman give each other a hesitant look. I roll my eyes and shout, "Then come in with your key!"

No answer.

"John," Roman concludes.

Boaz points to the private bathroom and tells us to escape through the window. "I got this jerk."

In the bathroom, I stare up at the window. Roman climbs up onto the back of the toilet and pushes the window open. It whines outward. He heaves himself up and wiggles through the two-by-two square, then reaches his hands back in for me.

I'm shaking my head. "I'm not getting through that."

"C'mon, I'll pull you out."

"And that's a definite no."

"Junebug."

Pursing my lips, I climb onto the back of the toilet and grab onto his warm hands. His muscles ripple as he heaves me out. The glittering lights of the Strand ignite the street with uncomfortable brightness. My foot catches on the ledge of the window and I stumble forward into his chest. His hands fold around my shoulders gently, and then he lets go as if I'm diseased.

Not ten feet out of the alleyway, John bursts out of the front door to face us. Roman scowls and seethes to me, "This your plan?"

"You're kidding," I deadpan.

His hands tighten into fists in anger.

John holds open his empty camera. “Very funny, Junie!” He calls to me. “Do I need to ask nicely for it back? Or can I just fuck you, too?”

Curiously, Roman eyes me again, as if beginning to think that I was telling the truth. "Run," I tell him, "since you're so good at it, anyway."

"Oh no way, you're going t—"

"I'm asking you to trust your dirty little secret, Roman."

For a split second, he doesn't say a word. What makes him listen to me, I don't know. Maybe it's the three days of whatever we had, washed away in ten terrible minutes. He leaves down the sidewalk and disappears into the parking lot. He doesn't say he trusts me, and he doesn't say goodbye. It's hard to say goodbye to a secret anyway, isn't it? Because a secret isn't something you want to begin with. Way to get All-American Rejected, Junie.

"Junie-baby!" the paparazzo catcalls.

I put my hands on my hips. John's not getting out of this alleyway alive. "Where's Boaz?"

"Why don't you give me back my memory card and I'll tell you?" he asks, snapping his fingers impatiently, slowly creeping, like molasses, toward me.

I steel myself and take the chip out of my pocket. "This thing?"

"Yeah. It's worth more than your life."

"Pretty confident about that," I retort.

"Yeah." He nods. Five feet from me. Four.

I curl my fingers around the card and put it back into my pocket. "You know, I think I'll keep it. For good leverage."

"Leverage? Doll, you don't know who you're messing with."

I smirk. "You're right. But neither do you." Suddenly, I spin around on my heels and rocket out of the alleyway.

"HEY! STOP!" John bellows after me.

I hurtle over a fire hydrant and dart across the street, barely dodging a purple Scion before jumping up onto the other sidewalk and cutting through the gaming pit on the other side of the street.