Sweet Rome (Sweet Home) (8 page)

“Hey, Mr. Blair,” I said as he embraced me.

“You here to talk about the wedding? Just think, by this time next year, you’ll be officially family.” My stomach dropped and I stepped back. Mr. Blair lost his smile as he glanced over my shoulder and saw the state of my daddy’s office. “Joe? What the—”

“I’m not marrying your daughter, sir. I don’t want her as my wife and I don’t want anything to do with the company either. I just came down here so my daddy knows I’m serious. Sorry if it causes you any problems, but I just can’t do it.” With that, I left the building.

I’d stood up to my daddy. I’d actually fucking done it. But the determined look in his eyes as I left made me feel nothing but dread for what lay ahead.

* * *

Texas A&M, Kyle Field, College Station, Texas.

“What’s going on, son?” Coach sat before me in the locker room. We’d just finished playing the Aggies, and to say I’d just had a nightmare of a game would be an understatement. Three interception passes… Six sacks…
Six fucking sacks!

Sitting head down, still in my dirty uniform, still in my cleats, I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t focus. Shit! I was terrible! Thank fuck we won or I’d be getting run out of Tuscaloosa!” I threw my head back, running my hands down my face, feeling completely drained.

Coach sighed, moving his chair to sit opposite me. “Rome, I’ve known you nearly four years now, went to some of your high school games before persuading you to join the Tide. This is no time for you to mess up. The world knows you’re certain to be a first-round draft pick.” He grew silent for a moment before he asked, “Is it your folks?”

That surprised me, and I snapped my head back to face him. “What?”

“Look, son, I don’t know much about your home situation. You keep your personal life pretty locked tight. But I know when someone don’t have the support of their folks. I’ve been coaching a hell of a long time, and you’re not the first player to leak his home life onto the field.”

A lump bobbed in my throat, and I checked around me, only to find that the rest of the team was long gone. I stared Coach straight in the face and nodded. “They don’t want me to enter the draft. They want me to take over the family business and marry a chick I don’t want. I had a huge argument with my daddy a few days ago over it all. I can’t stop reliving it.”

“And what do
you
want, Rome?” Coach gently questioned.

There could be no hesitation. “Football. It’s
all
I’ve ever wanted.”

“It ain’t
my
place to tell you what to do, Rome. But I will say this. You are one of the best… if not
the
best quarterback it has been my honor and privilege to coach. You’re at a crossroads in your young life. Only you can mess up the decisions you must make.” For a few seconds, he left me to ponder what he’d said, then continued. “NFL teams have you on their radar. Everyone expects you to make it at the next level.”

I stared at the dirty white-tiled floor, unseeing, when coach sighed heavily. “Look, what can I say? Try hard to get yourself into a better place. Rome… no matter what it takes… yeah?”

“Yes, sir!” I exclaimed, lifting my head and looking Coach straight in the eye… at the same time silently thanking the Lord that Coach hadn’t threatened to bench me.

Slowly standing up, giving me a fatherly pat on the shoulder, he quietly said, “Get changed. We head out in twenty.”

6

That was two days ago. The team…
my team
… was now back at practice. After Coach’s talk with me, things felt easier, and I was thankful to be back in Tuscaloosa. Of course, the texts
ordering
me home to discuss the marriage were constant, but I decided I needed to put some space between my folks and me for a while.

I’d been thinking hard about what coach said and came up with a plan. One, get my head back into football. Two, sharpen my focus on what I do best. Three, try real hard to shut out all the shit screwing with my game—drinking and whoring around being top of the list.

My cousin and I were walking to class, and Ally was talking nonstop about some chick she lived with pissing her the hell off, but I zoned out, a feeling close to excitement in my stomach as we approached the Humanities building. Yeah, that had never happened before, especially not for philosophy, but here I was, almost sprinting to get to the classroom. I wasn’t in denial about why.

“Hell, Rome! Slow down!” Ally said, running to meet my quick strides. “What the hell you in a rush for?”

“Nothing. Just don’t want to be late.”

Her hand gripped my elbow, pulling me to a stop, brown eyes huge. “Since when?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Since when, what?” I tried to evade her questioning. She was too fucking nosey for her own damn good.

“
You!
Why’re you so concerned with class all of a sudden? You’re not exactly student of the year.”

“Let’s go or I’ll leave your ass behind.” I started walking again, and she let out a huge gasp from behind.

Turning, I groaned in exasperation. “What now?”

Her lips pouted and then she broke out into a smile. “I’m on to you.”

Ignoring her, I made my way to the class. As we headed through the door, Ally was still chuckling beside me—which only served to piss me off more—and I immediately checked out Molly’s TA desk, feeling instantly disappointed when she wasn’t there. As hard as it was to admit to myself, I’d missed seeing her all week. Was sick of her image in my damn head, preventing me from sleeping, and thought it was about damn time I viewed her in the flesh again.

“Aww, Rome, would you look at that? No Molly,” Ally lilted as she climbed the stairs. I was used to her trying to rile me up, like a little, annoying sister would, but this time, she was really getting to me.

Someone entered the room, and I caught a look at them from the corner of my eye. It was Molly, head down, dressed in jean shorts, a tight white tee, and a white version of those fucking horrendous shoes. She skirted past me to her desk, not even acknowledging me.

That pissed me off.

“Shakespeare,” I greeted, trying to get her attention. But still nothing. She was completely ignoring me and it wasn’t sitting well, my good mood now completely gone.

I made my way up the stairs to my seat next to Ally, trying to pay no attention to Shelly, who, as always, began batting her eyelashes in my direction.

Shaking my head, I questioned why she was being so fucking stupid? I couldn’t believe she would keep up the fake flirtations after the mindfuck that was our last meeting.

I sat in my seat, wondering why Molly was being so weird, when she strode up to the lectern, face tight, tapping the small microphone, the echoey dull thuds attracting everyone’s attention.

“Hey, everyone. Professor Ross asked me to lead today’s seminar on the introduction to utilitarianism, and in the coming sessions, I will be giving brief notes on the main arguments before exploring some examples for discussion.”

There was that confidence again, almost arrogance when it came to her subject, and she moved from the lectern, dropping her notes, her tight ass flexing under those shorts. I shifted as my cock grew hard. She licked her lips, adjusting her glasses, and I struggled not to groan out loud at the sight.

“In simple terms, the idea of utilitarianism is the theory that actions of an individual are based on the fact that we, as humans, actively seek pleasure when making decisions. Therefore, this argument is seen as the hedonistic approach to ethics—we do things to feel good, are driven by the quest for pleasure. Jeremy Bentham proposed that humans operate on a pleasure-pain principle, i.e. that we seek pleasure and avoid pain at all costs.”

She never once looked my way as she spoke. The class was small and she met every pair of eyes in the room except mine. It got to me…
really
fucking got to me.

“Bentham believed that this principle could be adapted to society as a whole and that it would function better if it operated on a system that considered
the greatest good for the greatest amount of people.
This is evident in many sectors of society, but a good example is the way we vote in a democracy. The majority vote benefits most people. Therefore, the majority of people in that society are happy, i.e. feel pleasure at the outcome, creating a more utilized society.”

After minutes of still getting nothing, not even a glimpse, I decided it was time to cut the shit and
make
her acknowledge me. What Shakespeare didn’t know was that I had a firm grasp of this topic. And I’d use it to show her I didn’t like to be ignored.

I waited until she paused in her lecture and let out a dramatic cough, edging forward in my seat and pretending to listen intently, purposely being obnoxious. Her eyes darted to mine and they narrowed.
Perfect
. I’d started to piss her off too.

“Where was I?” she said out loud, subtly glaring in my direction in admonishment. “Oh, yes. Today we will be discussing the concept of the pleasure-pain principle and whether humans really do function this way. I, for one, tend to agree in the most part with this theory—”

“Really?” I blurted, stopping her mid-flow. My classmates gaped at me from their seats. Yeah, I never participated in class. Hell, most of these people probably hadn’t heard me say anything in nearly four years of sitting in this room. I knew I had the reputation of a dumb jock, and what did I care? Let the fuckers believe what they wanted. I was going to speak today, though, and it was all because I wanted a certain girl’s attention.

Molly had stopped still, the pulse in her neck beating furiously under her exposed skin. “
Pardon
?”

There it was, that fire, that spark she kept so well hidden. Taking my pencil, I rolled it in my fingers as if I didn’t give a shit and, by the look on face, succeeding in riling her up.

“I was expressing my surprise that you agree with Bentham,
for the most part,”
I said, exaggerating the last four words.

“Then the answer is yes, you heard correctly,” she snapped.

Christ, she looked even cuter when she was mad as all hell, and her attitude was turning me on. “Huh!” I muttered, biting on my pencil. The room was absolutely silent, and even the professor was watching us both with rapt attention.

Ally struck me with her elbow in my rib and hissed out, “Quit it, Rome. She ain’t finding you funny. Leave her the hell alone.” For a moment, I did feel a bit guilty, but I was having too much damn fun sparring to really give a shit.

“Huh, what?
Romeo
?” she queried with a bitchy smile. That stilled me, and any humor I had soon morphed into rage. She used that fucking name,
knowing
exactly how I felt about it… and in public too? It was so far below a low blow it was arctic and I couldn’t believe she’d done that to me, didn’t believe her capable of being so damn mean.

Her eyebrow rose, a clear challenge, and I snarled. She wanted to play dirty? Game on.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I just think it’s foolishly idealistic to think in such a way,
Shakespeare,
and for someone of your supposed intellect, I’m surprised it came out of your mouth at all.”

“
Rome
!” Ally warned quietly beside me, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had a burning desire to fuck her off after calling me that bastard name so maliciously.

“I mean, look at the voting analogy you gave:
greatest
good for the greatest number of people
. You mentioned how it was considered good for society, as most people would be happy with the result, but all I see are flaws. What if the ‘majority’ of the people voting are bad or have ill intent and the minority are innocent, and good people are put in danger due to the fact that they’re outnumbered? What if the person you voted in has ulterior motives and goes back on what they said they would do?”

She opened her mouth to butt in, but I kept going, raising my voice even louder so she couldn’t stop me in my tirade.

“Look at Hitler. He was elected by a democratic vote, and for a time, he was what was right for the majority of the people who were living in poverty with no real hope. But look how that ended… I’m just saying that although it seems good in theory, the practical side don’t really pan out, now does it?”

I tipped my chin arrogantly, challenging her to step up her game. Leaving the protection of the lectern, she marched forward, purposefully walking up the first two steps toward me, her hair bouncing, long brown strands falling into her eyes.

“For a start, do me the honor of letting me finish before rudely interrupting.” Her teeth were gritted together and her eyes alight with ire. “
What
I agree with is the idea that individuals
do,
in many situations, live for pleasure over pain, at least
for the most part
. Surely you’d agree with that, Mr. Oh-so-fantastic QB. Don’t you make the majority of your decisions based on your illustrious football career, something that brings you pleasure?”

So she was going to go for the jugular, try and bring me down. I wondered what the fuck I’d done to deserve her wrath. “You’re right, I do, but I also do it for the spectators, for my teammates. They find joy in football, unlike some,” I said pointedly.

Her hands landed on her hips. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning that in Alabama,
Shakespeare
, football is the greatest pleasure there is—playing it, watching it, coaching it. My training and therefore my success benefits both me and others. You seem to be the only one who don’t like it.”

Her lips twitched and a victorious smile settled on her face. “Then you’ve proved me right. In Alabama, the greatest good for the greatest number of people is football, as it brings pleasure to the majority of the population.”

“In this respect, you may be right, but it’s not always that simple.”

“Go on,” she said, her arms folded under her chest, her foot tapping loudly against the wooden stairs.