Roman Holiday - By Ashleyn Poston Page 0,3

tonight's different. I'm already late to my boyfriend's house, and it's not exactly like I can tell her that. Caspian and I aren't quite... official. Like, we're not even facebook friends, which is why tonight is important. Tonight, all of that's going to change. "Sorry, bb. Geoff, you closing tonight?"

He gives me a salute and quirks a teasing eyebrow to the hottie in the corner. "I'll take my time," he replies coyly, more to the patron than to me.

Maggie and I slide off our stools together. She holds the door open for me as we exit the bar and split our separate ways. "I'll make it up to you?" I offer.

"We both know that's a lie!" She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with her middle finger.

Chapter Two

Tonight is Cas and my six-month anniversary—I mean non-anniversary. We're not public. Or anything official. I feel like I have to keep reminding myself that, but after tonight I won't have to. After tonight, we can go on real dates like real couples. Because we'll be official.

i got a surprise for u bby! ull luv it (; he texts.

His parents are both away on business—they're never home together, and when they are Cas makes sure to stay as far away from the house as possible—so he has the house to himself for the next two weeks. His dad's off in Colorado for a business retreat, and his mother is taking another "girl's vacation" to Cancun. Alone. So I can see why Caspian doesn't want to put a label on us. Just because two people are together doesn't mean they're in love, and just because they're married doesn't mean they don't love other people in the dead of the night.

I toss my phone into the passenger seat and crank up the station wagon. Chuck bought Mom a new car after they married, so I got saddled with this piece of shit car. At least it runs—on good luck and prayers.

The Gardener household is more like a hotel. Seven bedrooms, four full baths, and a living room as big as the garage. It easily dwarfs every single house around it. I park my cruddy car in the dirt pit beside the driveway so passing cars can't see it, and quickly change into a black skirt and tank-top that shows as much cleavage as I can offer—which isn't much. Fixing my hair in the rearview mirror, I pray that he'll like my hair. Anything's better than dishwater blond, right?

I sneak around to the back of the house. The glint of security cameras reflects the spotlights that snap on the moment I step onto the immaculate green backyard. I twirl a lock of my hair nervously, and knock on the back door. It's late. I hope he isn't mad.

We’ve been planning tonight since we first started...whatever this is. So, it's a big deal. Partly because I'm afraid of what I might have to lose in return for a public relationship, and partly because I'm afraid he won't want it.

Yeah, I'm nervous as hell.

Stop it, Junebug. You're beautiful. He'll think you're beautiful.

The doorknob rattles a second before the door opens and he bathes me in his brilliant white smile. My nervousness melts away. "Hey baby," he croons, and bends in for a kiss, "you're late."

"I lost track of time," I reply, a little disheartened. Nothing about my hair? Or how excited he is to see me? "And I didn't see your text until I got in my car..."

"At least you're here." He takes me by the hand and leads me into his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. I've only been in his house when no one's around, and even then I've only seen the kitchen and his bedroom. A box of Chinese takeout sits on his nightstand, and James Bond blares from the TV.

My heart, already beating nervous and erratic in my chest, twists a little. Not that I was expecting a candlelit dinner over filet mignon and sweet potato but...maybe a glass of Merlot at least? But all I can say is, "Oh, Cas, you shouldn't have."

"I thought we could get comfortable, you know, since it's our six months and all," he replies, curling his arms around my waist, and kisses the nape of my neck. "I like what you did to your hair."

"Maggie's idea. She says it brings out my eyes." His lips are like feathers against my neck, quick kisses that dot up to my ear, his fingers falling between my skirt