My Roman (Boys on the Hill #1) Rose

Croft
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 My Roman
Copyright © 2020 by Rose Croft. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or

mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.

Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, or events is entirely

coincidental.

Cover Design: Bex Harper Designs

Formatter: Integrity Formatting
 From the author of The Mendoza Family Series comes a new
college/NA enemies-to-lovers romance. Welcome to Hillside U and
meet the alpha boys who rule it.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧
She’s both a liar and a thief.
But she’s in my world now
She can run, but she can’t hide
Hope she’s ready to play...

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚
Hillside University was supposed to be my fresh start.
Unfortunately, karma had other plans, the night I ran into Roman
Martinez again.
Football star. Popular. Wealthy.
The boy who’d once captured my heart ⁣was now set out to make
me his pawn.
Good luck with that.
He would learn that I wouldn’t bow so easily.
Once upon a time, I was living my fairy tale with my knight in
shining armor.
Now I knew fairy tales were just pipe dreams cloaked in false hope
and dipped in deception.
 Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
 Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
Playlist
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books by Rose Croft
Excerpt: Cabezon
 To Rose’s Buds
The best team a girl could ask for.
 Prologue
Three Years Ago

Roman Martinez—Age 18

It’s funny how the line between love and hate could disintegrate in a
hot minute. In my lifetime, I’d never really felt either until recently.
Never show emotion. Never give away your hand, son. Only fools
and pathetic saps gave into feelings. Besides, words like “love” and
“hate” were only stupid ideologies that poets and idiots needed to
put a label on to justify weaknesses. That was the Robert Martinez
school of thought, and my brother and I had his words ingrained in
our head from an early age.
I threw back the remaining contents of my cognac. Well, my
dad’s cognac (but whatever, semantics) and perched over my
father’s wall-to-wall office windows staring at the two blond women,
mother and daughter, walking outside. My eyes were drawn to the
younger one. Even at a distance, I caught how the sunlight glinted
off her long, light blond hair. I knew the locks felt like spun silk as it
threaded through my fingers. I always loved to touch her hair or put
a stray strand behind her ears.
Even now as she strode down the sidewalk, she held her head
high with a suitcase in one hand and duffel bag strapped over her
shoulder. After living here for almost eight years, she’d been kicked
out of the kingdom. She came from nothing and unfortunately would
end with nothing. Well, except for a paltry sum of money my father
was forced to pay.
 “She is quite beautiful, isn’t she?” my brother Antoni said in
polite disinterest. He was sixteen and followed our father’s lead to a
tee. He even had Robert’s mannerisms down to an art with his
casual stance and arms crossed negligently across his chest. “I bet
she was quite a fuck, too.”
I clenched the snifter in my hand tighter but said nothing.
Depraved. You are depraved, and an embarrassment, Roman. You
fell for the trap. Why can’t you be more like Antoni? My father’s
words from a few days ago quenched my fury.
I could only blame myself, but I could blame her as well. She
could’ve had it all. She could’ve been my queen. But not now.
“Tell me, hermano, how was she? Was her pussy as tight as I’d
imagined?”
“Shut up.”
“Did she tell you how much she loved you before or after she
stabbed you in the back?”
“Antoni,” I growled and soon pain lanced my palm and fingers,
followed by the obnoxious sound of crystal shattering on Travertine
tile.
“Careful.” My brother raised his eyebrows in mild interest as he
pointed at the crushed glass nestled in my hand. Blood seeped from
my skin, dripping on the floor. “You could get an infection.”
“Then it’s nothing less than I deserve, right?” Although a
smarter man would’ve tried to stop the bleeding, I didn’t. Instead, I
stood frozen in place, gazing outside as I watched the pretty little
liar follow her mother into the back seat of a black sedan that would
take them away permanently. Despite my newfound animosity, I still
fought my so-called vulnerable emotions. I would kill those feelings.
She ruined it all. However, along the way, she ruined me too.
 Present

Theodora Daniels

It’s been said that one moment can change your life completely. I
thought I’d already experienced that moment a few years ago.
However, it seemed like fate was a raging, vengeful bitch that
cloaked itself in the form of a six three dark-haired, brooding devil
with no heart. Well, fuck me. If only I’d been warned. If only I could
hit reset on the night I would see him again. If only I could forget
him altogether. Before I get into all that, let me back up a bit.
I was eighteen and embarking on a new chapter in my life being
the first week as a freshman on campus at Hillside University. It was
a private school settled in the ragged beauty of the hill country in
central Texas. Thus, the reason people called it the college on the
hill. I’d been so excited for the day to finally come when I could
move into my dorm room. That’s not to say I didn’t feel a case of
nerves and a little self-conscious because I’d arrived here alone with
all my clothes and sheets crammed in a plastic trash bag and a
pillow nestled in the crook of my arm while I leaned against the door
of my old, beat-up Corolla taking in the scenery. Students fluttered
around me with moving boxes in their arms and their parents
hovering around them as they trounced in and out of the residence
hall.
Squaring my shoulders, I made my way to the open doors.
Trudging through the packed hallway on the second floor, I passed
by two girls gushing about rush week and the sororities they were
considering. This was probably the fifth time I’d heard the mention
of fraternities and sororities in the span of ten minutes making my
way to my room. Rushing for a sorority would probably be a great
idea considering I was somewhat of a shy person, but that was an
extra expense I couldn’t afford. To be honest, I didn’t know if I was
sorority material. Even if I were accepted into one, I would’ve stuck
out like a sore thumb.
I stopped in front the open door to my left and saw a lanky girl
with pale skin and red hair swept up in a bun setting something on a
desk. She glanced over at me and grinned widely. “Are you
Theodora?”
“Yes. Kenzie?”
“Uh-huh?” She nodded and squealed pulling me into the room.
“Yes. This is your side of the room, and this is my side. I swear I’ve
been here for like six hours. Can you believe it? Six hours trying to
set up my room. And these are my parents.” She spoke a mile a
minute and introduced her mother and father who both greeted me
as I blushed in embarrassment feeling like an orphan without my
mother here.
“Are your parents here too?” Kenzie’s mom asked glancing over
my shoulder.
I shook my head setting my things aside. “My mother couldn’t
make it. She just had back surgery and is still recovering.”
“Oh honey. Do you need help unloading your things from the
car?”
“No, but thank you.” Luckily, she didn’t press. I also didn’t miss
the glance of concern she threw her husband’s way. Kenzie’s family
probably came from wealth. I shouldn’t make assumptions, but I
noticed the two matching Louis Vuitton purses draped over the
nearby chair. I’d been around enough rich people for several years to
sense the aura and scent of the privileged like the back of my hand.
The truth was, you had to have money to go to a private
university, and this was one of the most prestigious in the state. Or
receive a scholarship, like I did. Even with a full ride that didn’t cover
all the expenses I would encounter. My mother didn’t have any extra
money to spare since she’d injured herself in a car wreck and had to
have back surgery. Furthermore, she’d been out of work for almost
the whole past year and draining her savings with all the medical
expenses. I’d spent the past year picking up any work I could find to
help out which wasn’t much in the scheme of things, but it was
something at least.
“Let me help you set up,” Kenzie offered with a friendly smile
and after spending the next hour getting to know them, I began to
relax. With their help, I converted my space into a cozy, inviting
area. I glanced over at Kenzie’s side. It looked like Chip and Joanna
Gaines had stepped in to renovate. All that was missing were some
fresh-baked cookies and shiplap paneling.
Soon after Kenzie’s parents said their tearful goodbye, my new
roommate slid her arm through mine and said, “This is going to be
the best year ever.” And so began a fun-filled beginning with a new
friend.
As the weekend approached all was going great so far. Kenzie
convinced me to go to a party at one of the fraternity houses. Since
it was rush week, these places were like open houses where
everyone could get in. That’s what Kenzie told me at least, and she
seemed like an expert on social activities in college. She too was one
of many pledging for a sorority.
“Let me do your hair and make up,” Kenzie said dabbing her lips
as she glanced at her phone.
I eyed her with skepticism. “Why?” I’d donned a casual floral
sundress with spaghetti straps and flip-flops. It was late August so I
thought I looked summery and it was comfortable. Kenzie had just
put the final touches on her makeup and was still sitting around in a
tank and leggings.
“Come on, Theo. It will be fun. I promise you’ll like the end
result.”
 Obviously, she was not impressed with my current look. “Okay.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t an expert on hair and make-up by any means.
For that matter, I’d never had girlfriends who I’d hung out with or
had sleepovers. I’d lived a very lame life in high school with the
exception of my freshman year.
After thirty minutes of her making up my face and fixing my
hair, I must say I was impressed.
“You’re gorgeous, Theo. You just need to own it.”
I tilted my head as she’d already rushed off to her closet.
“Here, wear this.” She held out a hunter green tube dress,
laughing when I raised an eyebrow. “Trust me. You will look good in
this.”
“Okay,” I conceded and went to the bathroom to change.
“You’re such a little prude,” she teased behind me as I closed
the door. Try being humiliated in a girl’s locker room, I thought. That
will damn near traumatize you and make you self-conscious.
The dress was very fitted, and I yanked down on the hem to
mid-thigh, I’d never worn anything this nice before. I saw the eight-
hundred-dollar price flash before me when she ripped the tag off
and handed me the dress. She’d never even worn it. She had a
closetful of clothing, while I’d scrimped and saved my money to buy
the few dresses I had.
“Maybe I shouldn’t wear this,” I said as I stepped from the
bathroom.
Kenzie had on a black mini dress that crossed over one shoulder
and was strapping on heels. She glanced up and broke out into a
Cheshire cat grin. “You look amazing, and yes, you are wearing it.”
“But—”
She stood up and took my hands in hers. “Look, Theo, you are
wearing it. Tonight we’re going to work on getting you out of that
shell.”
 I tilted my head. “Are you playing the role of fairy godmother,
and I’m Cinderella?” I joked, but I was kind of serious.
She must’ve picked up on my tone. “No Theo,” she said quietly.
“Please. Don’t think that. I don’t ever want to overstep my
boundaries. I’m not trying to be superficial and say that having a
makeover and dressing up makes you a different person, nor does it
define you. Your inner beauty is inside you, so I want you to have
the confidence to show it. Okay? Own it.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. Funny that she could already sense so much
about me. “Thanks.”
“Come here roomie.” She embraced me into a hug. When she
pulled away she smiled ruefully. “But you will get a lot of attention
tonight.”
Theodora

Fraternity row was only a few blocks off campus but since we were
both in heels Kenzie ordered us a Lyft. She had a car, a cherry red
BMW she’d received as a graduation present, but the street that
stretched in front of frat house row was narrow and it would’ve been
something short of a miracle to find a parking spot, unless you
wanted to risk the chance of parking illegally and getting your car
towed. I tried to give her cash, but she waved me off. “Don’t worry,
it’s not that expensive. It’s not a long drive.”
When we made it to the Pi Kappa Alpha house, the party was in
full swing if all the students hanging out front were any indication,
and you could hear the loud thump of bass coming from inside.
Own it. I straightened my shoulders and made sure the hem of
the dress was in place and my boobs were properly covered after
sliding out of the back seat of our ride.
We passed through the crowd inside who were gathered in the
living room cheering. Kenzie waved to some guy in a button-down
shirt, untucked and some khaki shorts. I’d noticed several guys
dressed similar to him, while girls wore dresses. Looked a little
strange, as though we were a little over dressed for the club when it
was only a frat party but whatever.
“Hey girl.” The guy leaned in and gave my friend a peck on the
cheek.
 “This is Theodora,” she told the clean-cut guy who held a bottle
of Shiner Bock beer in his hand.
“Hey, I’m Justin. Let me get you something to drink. We have a
full bar tonight. What would you like?”
“Vodka tonic with a twist of lime. Preferably Tito’s,” Kenzie
replied like she was a seasoned mixologist. “Same,” I said when he
looked at me.
“Got it.” He nodded his head. “Wait here, and I’ll be back.”
“He’s cute, right? I met him on campus earlier today at the
bookstore. He plays football.”
I nodded. I guess if you liked a guy who wore khaki shorts and
polo shirts.
“All right, everyone. Listen up,” a voice boomed over a
microphone and the music stopped. Through the crowd, I saw
another preppie looking guy with a button-down oxford and what a
surprise…khakis standing in front of the stone fireplace with
microphone in hand. “We have some local stars among us tonight.
Future NFL ballers. Am I right?”
The crowded living room erupted in cheers. I didn’t know
anything about Hillside’s football team. It was a smaller college and
was known for its excellence in academics.
“These guys are going to put us on the map this year in
football. We’re going to make it to the College Football Playoffs!” Cue
another round of cheers.
“What is this? A party or a pep rally?” I asked Kenzie in jest.
She was clapping too and leaned down. “There are a lot of
Falcon football players here tonight. Many of them are PIKE
members. Justin’s in this fraternity too. He lives here.”
“Hey, where’s the rest of your entourage?” Preppy boy directed
his attention to some tall dark-haired guy who stood out in the
crowd. I could only see his wide shoulders and back.
 “How the fuck would I know? I’m not their keeper.”
Preppy boy smiled and lifted the mic to his mouth like he was
emceeing a boxing match. “Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you.
Standing at six foot three, two-hundred and forty-five pounds. The
godsend of your Hillside Falcons…Roman Martinez!” Whoops and
hollers erupted all around, while my breath caught in my throat. He
was here. Roman made his way to the front, and it was like I had a
line of string in my spine that someone yanked tightly forcing me to
stand at attention.
“Speech, speech, speech.” Arms were in the air as fists pumped
back and forth in sync. This was the strangest spectacle I’d ever
witnessed. I never thought I would ever cross paths again with
Roman. Technically, I hadn’t, but if he saw me here. Who knew what
would happen?
Roman took the mic and scanned the crowd, while I causally
ducked my head shielding my face with my hand although I was
fairly certain he couldn’t see me since the room was packed, and I
was near the back of the crowd. Justin approached with our drinks.
Kenzie grabbed hers, and I had no choice but to take mine too.
“This is our year. This is our time. This is our moment!” He
raised his drink in the air and everyone did the same. “So let’s have
a toast. Here’s to a great year and hope to see you at the games
and all hail the mighty falcons.” He dropped the microphone and
stalked off, and the packed group of people somehow separated,
leaving a path with the ending near Kenzie and me. Panic shot
through me. I faced Kenzie keeping my back to him, hoping he’d just
pass by and not even take the time to notice me. I felt the rush of
air whoosh by me and a familiar all-male scent, and the blaring of
Travis Scott’s “Highest in the Room” indicating the party was back
on. I inhaled deeply whether out of relief or relishing a high I hadn’t
experienced in years, I couldn’t be certain. However, I kept my head
down staring into my drink contemplating slipping away and walking
back to my dorm.
 Raucous laughter was heard over the loud music. Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw him standing around a group of girls a few
feet away. Then a brunette stepped into his group and leaned in,
kissing his cheek. Nausea threatened to rear its ugly head. If I could
just convince Kenzie to go outside, away from him…
She bent to my ear. “Hey, I’ll be right back. Justin wants me to
help him bring some more alcohol from the basement since the bar
is running low. Will you be okay here for a sec?”
“Yeah, go. I’ll be fine.” I sure as hell hoped my voice sounded
more confident than I felt. There were so many people packed in
here, I could lay low for a bit, couldn’t I? Justin took her hand as I
watched them walk off. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and
kept unwillingly glancing his way. Soon, some of the girls in his orbit
moved off toward the back of the house, while he stayed and looked
like he was having some serious conversation with the brunette
because he wasn’t smiling. I couldn’t see her face because her back
was to me. The next thing I knew she threw her hands up in the air
storming off while he glanced around with a look of indifference and
took a pull from his drink.
I took one step to the side planning my exit because the group
of people between he and I was thinning out as people pumped
hands in the air bouncing by me to the beat of the music blaring
around us.
“Roman!” a male voice called out behind me. “We’re gonna do it
this year, man.” He sounded well on his way to drunk and tipped his
cup in his direction. He struggled to stand up straight holding his cup
high as alcohol sloshed over the side. I cringed in apprehension as
Roman lifted his head, searching for whoever spoke, and the air left
my lungs. He nodded at him, and then his eyes shifted until they
landed on me. A shiver crept up my neck when I saw his eyes. Not
only were they cold. They were filled with hate.
Tortuous seconds ticked by until his lips twisted down. “Get
out.” I saw the words slip out of his mouth, although the noise was
too loud to hear. It was easy to read his lips, and his warning was
directed at me. Why did I stand paralyzed when I should’ve slipped
out when I had the chance? Yet, I felt planted to the floor still
harboring a sense of denial.
This was my Roman.
The boy I’d known all my life.
Who I didn’t know anymore.
His glare never wavered from me, and his next words hit me
directly as though he were standing in front of me instead of several
feet apart. “Get the fuck out!”
“Damn, bro. What did I do to piss you off?” Mr. Overserved
behind me called out defensively. The few people around us shifted
their head in puzzlement wondering why this football god was trying
to throw someone out of a fraternity party. My cheeks flushed in
embarrassment because I knew exactly who he was talking about.
Fortunately, there weren’t too many people around to see what was
unfolding. However, the public humiliation would only get worse the
longer I stood here and stared. And there was no doubt he’d keep at
it. When Roman set his mind on something he always followed
through, and he had the minions beneath him to carry out his
orders. Always had.
Turning, I pasted a smile on my face, hid my rising
mortification, and made my way quickly out the front door before
everyone at the party knew me as the girl who got kicked out of an
open house mixer.
I swiped at my face rushing down the sidewalk and bumped
someone as I passed by nearly losing my balance as one of my
pointy heels turned beneath me.
“Hey. I got you.” Hands held my arms steadying me.
“Thanks,” I murmured giving a brief glance to the tall broad-
shouldered guy with a kind smile. I looked over my shoulder hoping
to avoid seeing him again. All I wanted was to make it back to my
room.
 “You leaving already?”
“Yup. Thanks again.” I started walking off.
“Where are you headed?” He asked behind me, and I glanced
over my shoulder. “Home.”
“Nick! Where the fuck you been, bro?” Someone yelled in the
distance, and I picked up my stride.
“Wait,” he called out behind me, but I waved him off.
“I’m fine. Really.”
I kept up my pace fighting the sickening feeling of humiliation.
As I neared the dorm, I kicked off my heels and padded up the
front steps. I heard my phone buzz.
Kenzie: Where r u?
Me: Walking home. I don’t feel well.
Kenzie: Tell me where you are. I’ll walk with u.
Me: No. Stay. I’m almost to our room. Enjoy your evening with
Justin.

I could tell she really liked him, and right now I just wanted to
be alone because I knew Kenzie would bombard me with questions I
didn’t want to answer. What could I say? Roman and I shared a long
history. The little girl who never knew her father, raised by her
mother who lived in the poor part of a small country town, went
from squalor to living in a mansion. I remembered the first day I set
eyes on him when we moved in with his family because my mom
had been hired to take care his mother.
He was a few years older than me, and I’d always had a crush
on him over the years. Eventually, he’d returned the feelings. I
thought we’d be together forever, but I was a naïve and idealistic
girl. You don’t know what love is. You’re too young. Those were the
words my mom uttered the summer between my freshman and
sophomore year. Soon after, everything fell apart. Whatever love that
had blossomed between Roman and I long ago was only a pipe
dream.

My first week of classes had gone smoothly so far. It was Friday

morning and I had classes until noon. Luckily, I had a job interview
at one of the local college restaurants a few blocks away this
afternoon.
I walked down the sidewalk, observing the stately, red brick
buildings surrounded by lush trees. It really was a quaint but
beautiful campus nestled among rolling hills covered in rock and
foliage. As I came closer to the older building named after someone
who’d probably contributed money to the campus years ago when it
opened, I noticed a group of people lounging around the front. After
walking this path for a few days, I’d recognized the same people
congregated here. Most of the guys stood out being tall and
muscular, probably athletes of some type, as a few girls laughed and
flipped their hair or put a hand on their hip as if enraptured by
whatever was being said. I didn’t know any of them, but some of
the faces looked familiar in a way. Probably because they were at
that ill-fated PIKE party last week. When I passed through here the
first time, I’d felt some of them watch me in morbid fascination and
whisper amongst themselves. At least that’s how I saw it. Perhaps
some people were paying attention the other night when I had to
keep myself from making a mad dash out of the party. I held my
head high nonetheless. I dealt with whispers and petty bullshit
before.
As I turned right to go up the stairs to the entrance, I pulled out
my phone to check the time and a text came through.
Mom: Have a great day and good luck on your interview.
I clicked in the reply box, then a large shadow fell over me and
chills coursed down my spine. When I glanced up, my pulse kicked
up. It was like staring at a beautiful picture or reliving a bittersweet
memory from my past. Unfortunately, I couldn’t forget his hate-filled
glare from the party last week as he crudely kicked me out. Roman.
I averted my eyes and tried to move around him because I made a
vow to never be caught off-guard again. However, he blocked my
path. “Move out of my way.”
“Not yet,” he said, crowding the limited space between us. His
chest was as broad as ever, more so even, as muscles constricted
under soft fabric. I saw the tan skin that peeked out from the collar,
and my eyes traveled up farther, studying his face. The angled,
square jawline. The indentation in his chin. Sensuous full mouth. His
pronounced straight nose. All his features screamed out strength,
hard, and alpha. When I reached his caramel-colored eyes that I
used to get lost in when he gazed at me, I nearly faltered. It was
one thing to see his wrath from a distance. It was quite another to
experience it up close. They were dark and his straight eyebrows
were drawn together as he stared at me with a mixture of coldness
and fury.
“What are you doing here?” His voice sounded ominous as
though I was trespassing on his property.
“I go to school here.”
He leaned in; his inky hair fell across his forehead as he ground
out, “How?”
My skin began to burn as he edged in, and his masculine,
woodsy scent filled my senses. He’d broken my heart, and now
seemed as though he wanted to strangle me. That was apparent.
However, Roman questioning how I got into this school was
ridiculous. Was he implying that I wasn’t good enough or too poor to
attend this small private school?
“I have a scholarship.”
“Is that right?” His voice rose with a deceptive coolness. “You
were always very resourceful, huh, even coming from the trailer
park. You should be very grateful for my family’s generosity.”
 “What does that mean?” Did he think I should fall to the ground
in gratitude because I had the chance to live under his family’s roof
while my mother earned her way? Why was I standing here listening
to this? I complied when I was at the party. However, I was not
going to listen to his condescending crap while I was on campus
getting the education I worked hard for. What could he do? Kick me
off campus too? “I earned the right to be here.”
“I’m sure you did.” His mouth lifted in a cruel smile. “But, don’t
get too comfortable because once you think you have everything, it
could all be lost in the blink of an eye. You know, karma and all.”
“We’re not at a stupid frat party. You can’t throw me out of the
university.” The intelligent side of my brain knew I should’ve ignored
him and ran as far away from him as I could. Instead of trying to
provoke him.
I shouldered around him and before I could step forward,
fingers dug into my elbow, yanking me until my back crashed into
his chest. I felt his breath at my ear as he warned low, “That’s where
you’re wrong. Don’t tempt me. You don’t know the lengths I will go
to when it comes to you.”

I sat down in one of the desks at the back, glancing around the
small auditorium preparing for my Sociology class, still shaken over
seeing Roman again. I thought he was different. Yes, I came from
poverty, but over the years he’d befriended me, even defended me
when the other privileged kids in high school made fun of me. I
thought he loved me. I thought I was good enough. I thought he
wasn’t a superficial person who cared about status. In reality, I was
good enough for him to sample the milk, but not to be seen on his
arm.
“Is this seat taken?” I shook my head and glanced up to see the
blond Adonis who’d seemed to show up late every day we had class
this week. Hearing the whispers among other students, he was
supposedly some football star on campus. He certainly was built like
one. His eyes were light green and his skin tan. His muscles were
etched under the white designer T-shirt he wore. Then recognition
hit me, and he said, “Remember me. The guy you ran into the other
night.”
“Oh hey.”
He dropped down beside me, and I noticed he didn’t bring
anything with him—no laptop, books, pen, or paper. “You took off in
a hurry. I’m Nick by the way.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling well. Think it was food poisoning.”
“Ugh. That shit sucks.”
I bit back a smile and flipped open my school-issued
Chromebook as our professor began his lecture. Soon, another guy
slid into the chair next to blondie. He was equally built too, but had
dark curly hair and mocha skin. “You didn’t bring anything to take
notes?” he whispered as though put out.
“No.” Nick leaned back in his seat. “You know you’re a better
note taker than me.”
“What the fuck, bro? Do I look like your personal assistant?”
The professor paused and glanced around the auditorium until
his eyes settled on our area in the back, apparently hearing the loud
whispers. “If you find my lecture boring, you can leave.”
When the room remained silent, he turned and started writing
something on the Smart Board, and Nick whispered to his friend,
“You told me if I took this class with you, you’d make sure I passed.
You said you’d take one for the team.”
His friend sighed, but didn’t respond. A few minutes later, as I
furiously typed my notes, I felt blondie’s eyes on me as he bent his
head to my ear. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you again, since I
noticed you were in the same class as me.”
I chewed on my lip, and kept moving my fingers across the
keyboard.
 He leaned in again. “But I still don’t know your name.”
I blinked up at him and rushed out, “Theodora.” I cautiously
glanced back to the, front of the auditorium scared that I might be
heard and then asked to leave the class.
I felt a breath on my ear again. “Theodora. I like that name. It
sounds exotic.”
Dr. Smith paused and scanned the room. A few seconds later,
Nick exhaled a loud breath. “Do you even know what the hell this
lecture’s about? I’m lost.”
“Shh,” I warned as silently as possible. Maybe if he wasn’t
talking through it, he would know.
There was a quiet chuckle. “Don’t worry. He won’t kick me out
of class. I have immunity.”
Of course he did. It was the same in high school with the star
athletes. Obviously, college was just an extension of allowing
athletes to have carte blanche. Did Roman get a pass too? Was he
regaled on campus like he was in high school?
When the class was over, I heard the rumbles of students and
the click of laptops flipping shut. I was still trying to finish typing my
notes. As I gathered up my things, I glanced up to see Nick’s grin
with his golden-boy looks. His friend leaned in nudging Nick aside.
“Apparently, this asshole has no manners. I’m Axel by the way.”
“Theo.”
Nick shoved him back playfully. “Don’t you have another class
across campus? Better hurry. Don’t want to be late.”
“Yeah, unlike you I take school seriously.” He leaned in
whispering conspiratorially. “Don’t believe anything this joker says.”
With that, he saluted with a huge grin. “Later.”
Nick rolled his eyes with an easy-going smile. “Hey, I was
wondering if you were going to the football game tomorrow? I play
linebacker on the team.”
 Kenzie was going and had basically coerced me into going with
her. I knew I’d see Roman on the field judging from the props he
received the other night. For as long as I knew him, Roman always
had a football in his hand. It’d always been his dream to play. The
thought caused some kind of weird stirring in my stomach. I
should’ve said no, but instead these words fell out of my mouth. “I’ll
try to make it.”
Nick winked. “You do that. By the way, my number is fifty-five.”
He smirked. “You’ll know when you see me out there making tackle
after tackle.”
“Cocky much?” I teased.
“Nah, just stating facts.”
As he walked off whistling, I wondered why I was thinking
about whether or not I’d see another star player making all the big
plays?
Theodora

It was mid-afternoon and Kenzie and I were sitting in the student

section at the football stadium behind the home team. I cheered
with everyone else as the sea of red jerseys with the word Falcons
displayed across their chests ran through the tunnel onto the field.
As players trotted over to the sidelines, many carrying their helmets
in hand, I made an effort to search for Nick. I truly did. However, my
attention was drawn to the dark head of number eighty-seven. Why
did he have to look so hot and intimidating in his damn uniform?
Roman wasn’t the tallest guy on the team, although close, but his
presence was always larger than any player on the field. Today was
no exception.
“Look, there’s Justin!” Kenzie nudged me. Justin and she had
steadily seen each other more and more for the past week. I
glanced over where she pointed briefly, but my eyes kept going back
to Roman. He was now off by himself on the sideline kneeling just
like he always did before games as he stared at the field. He’d once
told me he liked to visualize his routes and catches before the game.
It got him in the zone. Whatever he did, it usually worked.
It always made me pumped to know you were at my game
watching me. You’re the best good luck charm, Corazón. You’re my
girl, always.
 “Theo. Theo!” My friend jostled my arm. “What just happened?
It’s like you tuned out and were in a daze.”
“What? No,” I recovered. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s kind of
loud in the stadium.” Gosh. I needed to stop this nonsense before
my friend started pressing me for info. I was stuck in a moment and
wasn’t ready to delve into my past with my newfound friend. College
was supposed to be a clean slate for me. I vowed to keep it that
way. I shouldn’t even think about him considering the way he’d
treated me recently. You don’t know the lengths I will go to when it
comes to you.
As the game progressed, we watched as our offense marched
down the field. Roman had already caught several passes, moving
the chains. He was dominating his position as usual. The Falcons
offense was at midfield, and the quarterback took the hike and back
pedaled, Roman breezed by a defender as he burned down the field.
The QB tossed it in the air his way…and it landed in his hands as he
ran the next twenty yards into the end zone. “Touchdown Falcons!”
the announcer yelled, followed by a loud train sounding horn of a
contraption behind the end zone. “Roman Martinez!” It was noisy
but all I saw was my high school crush who jumped around in
excitement and yanked off his helmet as he bellowed out to the sky
with his neck strained while teammates gathered around him in
celebration. That was the first of two more touchdowns he would
score, and the Falcons would go on to win 44–0.
After the game, I followed Kenzie out of the stands outside, and
we walked around the stadium to the east end. “What are we
doing?”
“Waiting for Justin.”
A small crowd of people began congregating around and soon
players started coming out looking freshly showered in street
clothing. Kenzie grabbed my arm. “There he is. Come on.” I let her
drag me along.
 When Justin’s baby blues landed on my friend, he broke out in a
huge smile.
“Good game, babe,” Kenzie gushed and threw her arms around
his neck. I glanced around awkwardly while they kissed and spotted
Nick passing through the crowd.
“Theo, you wanna go?”
My attention was drawn back to my roomie who dangled over
Justin like a human necklace. “Where?”
“There’s a party tonight at a friend’s place off campus,” Justin
supplied as his hands wrapped around my friend’s hips.
“She’s going,” Kenzie filled in before I could answer.
“Sure,” I said with caution. On one hand, I wanted to avoid
another possible unpleasant confrontation, but on the other, I chided
myself for being a coward. Why not? It was stupid, really, to let one
person piss on my parade. Who knew if he’d be there anyway? And
if he was? I shrugged off the thought.
“You came.” I heard a deep voice behind me.
I turned and Nick stood with arms crossed and a cocky smile on
his face.
“Yeah. Good game.”
“Thanks.” He dipped his chin. “There’s a party tonight at my
house…”
“She knows,” Justin said behind me and released his hold on
Kenzie to fist bump Nick’s hand.
“You gonna make it out there?”
I thumbed my hair behind my ear. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Nick, let’s roll!” I looked up to see Axel dressed like he just
finished a photo shoot with GQ signaling with his index finger a few
feet away impatiently.
 “I’ll see you tonight.” He brushed my chin with his thumb,
flashing his teeth before he took off in the direction of his friend.
Despite the excitement I was feeling, self-doubt once again drifted in
my brain cells. Own it, I reminded myself.

Music floated through the air as Kenzie and I walked up the long
driveway filled with expensive SUVs, tricked up jeeps and sports
cars. Damn, Nick was a high roller. I could tell by the modern house
that was somewhat isolated on private cul de sac surrounded by
trees. This place must have cost a fortune. It seemed it was situated
a block away from other impressive homes in this neighborhood, but
only about fifteen minutes from campus. Kenzie had driven and
parked down the street behind a stream of cars that already lined
the curbs for at least a mile long.
The music from inside was so loud the ground vibrated as we
neared the front door. A few people were hanging out with drinks in-
hand talking. Kenzie opened the door, and the house was crazy-
packed with people bumping and grinding to the beat. We threaded
through the crowd, and I almost felt claustrophobic. When we finally
made it through the living room, I’d already been bumped by a
hundred people. I was ready to either have a drink, pop a Xanax, or
down both at the same time.
“Kenzie!” Justin was leaning against the island in the kitchen,
and Nick was next to him. His eyes fell on me, and that never-
ending cock-sure tilt of his mouth he always carried was on full
display.
She was at Justin’s side, and several bottles of liquor and soft
drinks crowded the counter.
“Hey you.” Nick stepped close, and his eyes ran over me,
checking me out. I had on high-waist denim shorts and a cropped
tank showing a flash of stomach. “What would you like to drink?”
 I shrugged, making a show to ponder the array of bottles
displayed, as if I was some kind of connoisseur, which could’ve been
further from the truth. I noticed Justin had mixed Kenzie something
with Malibu, so I jutted my chin out. “I’ll have that, too.”
Nick made a drink and handed me the red plastic cup. Kenzie
looked up at me. “We’re going out back.”
I followed them with Nick by my side. We passed through the
wide-open doors and faced a lit rectangle-shaped pool. People were
either grouped around it in conversation, dancing around like they
were at Lollapalooza, or mugging down in lounge chairs. There were
others who were in the pool in both swimsuits and underwear, and
the night was still young. No telling when all the clothing would
come off. Probably sooner than later as more drinking commenced.
“This place is nice,” I said. Wait, did I call it nice? Nice? That
was the best description I could come up with? I must’ve been in
awe that a college kid could afford a home like this. Of course, it
was probably his family’s money. It had to be.
“It is nice,” Nick agreed.
I took a sip of my drink, staring around trying to think of
something to say. Something that didn’t make me sound like an
idiot. Words didn’t flow freely like my friend, Kenzie, who was
standing a few feet away with Justin flipping her hair as she spoke
with her mouth moving animatedly to the small group around them.
I felt a nudge on my upper arm. Nick bent in. “Did you want a
tour of the house?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Sure.”
Before he led me away, a thick arm wrapped around his neck.
“You better fuckin’ pay up, man.” Axel popped up behind him holding
him in a fake chokehold, cackling. “I beat you!”
Nick shook his head, shoving Axel’s arm aside. “It was one time.
I usually annihilate you.”
 “Doesn’t matter. I beat you when it mattered. When there’s
money on the table, you bet your ass I’m gonna win.” Axel looked up
at me and grinned. “Hey, Theo.”
“Hi.” I lifted a hand in some stupid wave that I made a mental
note to not ever do again. Axel and Nick continued talking trash
about whatever bet they had, while I observed them; they both
looked intimidating in build. Axel was a running back on the team
and he’d run rampant in the game earlier, scoring at least two
touchdowns. I wondered if they were friends with Roman? Was he
even here? I shook off the thought, hoping he wasn’t. Although I
spoke bravely earlier, I really didn’t want a repeat of the other night.
As their conversation heated, Nick beamed with a challenging
gleam in his eye. “You know what, Ax? Let’s go, I want a rematch. If
you’ve got the balls that is. Double down, bro.”
“You really wanna wager a thousand dollars?” Axel raised an
eyebrow at him.
What the hell were they wagering on? Who had that much
money to just throw away? Obviously, these guys.
“You feeling lucky, bitch? Then lets go again,” Nick goaded.
“All right. Let’s do this.”
Axel downed his drink and turned to head back inside. Nick took
my hand and nodded toward the house. “Come on, Theo. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To the lair.” Say what? The lair? Was this some kind of fight
club or something?
“Relax. It’s a game room.” Nick chuckled as though reading my
worried face like an open book. “We’re just playing NBA 2K20.”
“Okay.” Whatever that meant. Still, my expression was puzzled.
“It’s just a video game.” Nick tapped my nose. “You’re too cute,”
he teased, leading me with him, while I cautiously looked behind me
to see where Kenzie was, but she was nowhere in sight. Passing
through the packed house, the sea of partiers seemed to
disintegrate quickly at his sight, leaving an open path. What was it
with football players here that everyone gave them a wide berth?
We passed through the kitchen, and the crowd kind of thinned out
as we walked down a long hallway and turned right, descending
down concrete stairs. Did I mention this house was massive? I didn’t
even know it was multi-leveled. From the outside, it looked like an
oversized one-story house.
When we reached the bottom step, there was a stately black
door that almost looked like a vault. Jeez, were we going to a
dungeon? Should I be nervous I was following a guy I barely knew
into a room that was closed off from the rest of the house?
“It’s all good,” Nick reassured me.
When he opened the door, a hazy cloud filled the room along
with an acrid smell of pot and cigarettes. I followed him in and saw
a ginormous flat screen on a wall and an oversized leather sectional
with people sitting around, Axel was among them jawing nonstop to
some other guy beside him who had a girl in his lap clad only in a
bra and a micro-mini skirt grinding against him.
“Let’s get you a refill.” Nick guided me over to another corner of
the grand room that was equipped with a wet bar and enough liquor
to host a music festival and full-size refrigerator. A billiards table was
set in the middle of the room, and two beefy looking men were
circling around with pool sticks chattering about tonight’s game. Nick
took my cup and uncapped a bottle of Malibu, obviously
remembering what I had earlier, although I watched him as he
poured making sure he didn’t roofie my drink. I didn’t really think he
would.
High-pitched laughter drew my attention across the room. Guys
and girls were assembled at a round table playing cards. “You
cheated!” a female voice squealed, throwing down her cards in a
fake huff and then unhooked her bra as her generous boobs spilled
out, while the other participants ogled and cheered. Some whipped
out their phones taking videos. Maybe this was a mistake coming
down here. Maybe I should just relax and let go. Why did I keep
questioning myself?
“Here you go.” Nick laid the cup in my hand and nodded toward
the sofa. He didn’t seem to care there were half-naked women in the
room. Was this an everyday occurrence for him? Shut up, brain.
“Time for me to kick my friend’s ass.” His lips curled up boyishly with
a gentle nudge at my back. As we reached the already-filled couch,
Nick’s eyes slanted to Axel, who clicked the buttons on his controller
before he signaled to the two girls sitting beside him. “Move,” Nick
said in impatience; the smile never left his face. I guess he thought
he was being polite, lessening the blow. The girls’ faces scrunched
up as they glanced at Axel, who was focused on the game before
slowly rising in annoyance.
“Hey, why the fuck you sending away my fan club?” Axel asked,
although his eyes were still glued to the screen, not sounding too
worried about it. Finally, he graced them with his attention, flashing
his pearly whites and dimples. “I’ll hook up with y’all later.”
Not you. Y’all.
That answer seemed to appease them, and the girls both made
I heart U eyes at him before they strutted off.
Nick sat down and patted the space beside him, and I lowered
down on the plush leather seat. He slung an arm on the back of the
couch behind me, leaving space not completely crowding me in. I
felt his fingers brush my shoulder, and my eyes widened at the
theater-sized screen in front of me.
Twisting his head at Axel, Nick prodded, “Are we playing or
what?”
“I’ve been here, son, just been waiting on your prima donna
ass.” Axel scoffed.
Nick leaned around Axel to the dark-haired guy with the girl in
his lap who was draped all over him with her tits in his face. “Tell
fuck boy to give me the remote. Is he even playing the game?”
 “Not well. Fucker thinks he is, but he also thinks he can
multitask the game and her and handle his liquor.” Axel nudged the
guy next to him. “Dmitri, give over the remote. Nick wants to play.”
“I can multitask and handle my liquor, asshole, I’m Russian.”
Dmitri shifted the girl on his lap as his face made an appearance
from behind a veil of chocolate brown hair. His puffy lips were well-
kissed and swollen but lifted in an arrogant tilt, and giving zero
fucks, he tossed the controller across to Nick.
Nick and Axel both burst out laughing as though sharing an
inside joke. Axel finally said, “Let’s play.”
“Hey, it’s about fucking time you showed up!” Someone shouted
behind me and I craned my neck out of curiosity. And I knew. Call it
a sixth sense. Call it common sense because half the football team
was here, so it was only natural he’d be here too.
Theodora

Roman was here. It was like his presence made everyone demand
his attention. His dark hair was thick on top and recklessly styled. He
wore a black T-shirt and dark jeans. His cool eyes scanned the room
with no emotion as he shifted on his feet while some guy was
nudging him and talking non-stop. Roman hated small talk.
Regardless, I felt anxiety in my chest seeing him so close. Perhaps I
should’ve been more apprehensive, because it didn’t take long
before he saw me, and the unease sped up double-time as I was
caught in his relentless gaze, while stark darkness filled his eyes. He
was several feet away from me across the expansive room, but it
didn’t seem far enough. Even worse when he took a step forward in
my direction. I held my breath, preparing myself for another
uncomfortable encounter.
All the bravado inner pep talks I gave myself about not caring
whether I saw him again were beginning to get skittish and threaten
to run and hide like frightened cats. Reality beat me over the head.
Hanging around a crowd of adoring fans was his domain, and I
should’ve steered clear of him. In my defense, it’s not like I sought
him out nor knew we’d even end up at the same school. As far as I
knew, Roman had interest in going to one of the bigger colleges in
the SEC. But that was in the past…much like our history. He took a
few more steps closer, his jaw tightened with determination as
though he were on a mission to truly destroy me.
 “Roman, there you are.” A girl with jet black hair stepped in
front of him. Someone who looked very familiar. Whose family was
just as wealthy, if not more so than the Martinez family. Taylor
Shields. He kept his glare on me as Taylor was coaxing him into
making her a drink, signaling to the bar. Finally, he relented and
allowed her to lead him to the back of the room.
I turned to Nick, who was focused on the video game talking
smack to his friend. “Where’s the restroom?”
“Go back up the stairs, and it’s the second door on the left. If
it’s full, just use the one in my room at the very end of the hall.”
I rose and went over to the door flashing a glance to my right to
catch his eyes again, watching me like I was a wounded rabbit in an
open field. Soon, he turned his head at something Taylor said and
his face wasn’t so severe. Peeling my eyes away, I slipped out and
made my way up the steps. How my heart could beat faster with
unease and yet sink to my stomach at the same time was pathetic. I
was still trying to digest how we’d come to this. My thoughts rifled
through an internal folder of memories. Remembering how there
was a time when Roman’s face softened around me. He’d always
been someone who was somewhat withdrawn and serious around
everyone, although he was the person everyone gravitated around
at school, at parties, everywhere really. Back then he never let his
guard down, but he would around me. Until all hell broke loose.
When I emerged from the stairs, there were several people
congregating around a closed door, a solid line waiting for the
bathroom, so I continued down the long hall until I reached the end.
Opening the door, I turned on the light and gazed around Nick’s
room. He had a queen-sized bed with a plaid comforter, a dresser,
and nightstand. Some football paraphernalia and a few family
photos. I picked up one of the photos seeing him in his football
uniform in between an older man and woman who I assumed were
his parents. Both were blond and striking as well. Setting it down, I
made a move to the bathroom. At least, it smelled somewhat clean
and looked tidy. When I took care of business and washed my
hands, I flicked off the light, opened the bathroom door and saw the
motion of a tall figure pass through the door. The enemy was upon
me.
“You don’t listen very well, do you?” Roman’s deep, contempt-
laced voice bounced off the walls above the muffled background
noise from the living room. The bedroom door was now closed, and
he leaned against it with his arms overlapped.
“What do you want?” I stood my ground fighting something
bubbling inside. Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was the thought of
challenging him, I didn’t know. Lord knew he was hate-glaring at me
with a sick smile on his face. I’d seen that look before when he was
on the football field after an opposing defender fucked with and
taunted him before he went off like a madman. He thrived on
getting the best of someone. Thrived on winning. Knowing that
information, a saner person would’ve sprinted back in the bathroom,
locked the door and called for help. I rubbed my palms over my
shorts. “I was invited. You do know what that word means?”
“Well, I’m uninviting you.” He pushed off the door, stalking
closer with his never-ending resolve when he set his mind on
something, while I fought the urge to run. However, I dug in my
heels. The two drinks I’d downed gave me courage. Not saying that
was the smartest decision. Or best justification.
“Uninviting me?” I paused deliberately, tilting my head in
question. “Oh wait. I’m sorry, but who the hell do you think you
are?” I goaded, shrouded with my shield of fake confidence, but a
twisting in my stomach reminded me I wasn’t completely immune to
this dread. To him.
His footsteps reverberated against the hardwood as he neared;
his unmistakable scent of maleness and dominance ruled my senses.
He didn’t stop until his chest pressed mine, crowding me in. A vein
in his neck bulged as he craned over me. His thick chest rose and
fell slowly with his every breath as he nosed around my face like a
German Shepard picking up a scent. Finally, lowering his head under
my chin as he whispered, “I’m the one who haunts your dreams. So
if you want to save face, I would suggest you get the fuck out.”
The air felt too thick to breathe, and our bodies were a hair’s
breadth away. He was intimidating, which was his goal, wasn’t it?
However, I countered, “You must be mistaken to think your threats
mean anything. What are you? An eight-year-old on the playground
playing bully?”
As soon as the words came out, fingers dug into my arm. I
fought to yank away, but it was futile. He warned softly, “No. Just
trying to get rid of the trash. By the way what the hell are you doing
in my friend’s room?”
“Screw you, Roman, you have no say in what I do. Nick invited
me.”
“Nick?” he growled, showing his teeth. His eyes darkened, a
brewing blackness was unleashing, growing more frightening with
each passing second.
I think I’d reached my limit of his stupid scowls and threats. I
grinned brightly. “Yep. His house. His party. Now run along and sulk
somewhere else.”
“That’s funny considering this is my fucking house too.” He lived
here. He actually lived here. Of course he did.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, these run-ins are beginning to irk me like an
uncomfortable thorn in my side. Kind of painful, but more annoying.”
“Oh, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Sarcasm oozed from my
mouth. “Since it seems like it’s you who holds a grudge and prolongs
our chance meetings. What will you do, drag me out by my hair and
throw me out the front door?”
One side of his mouth curled in a snarl. “You underestimate me,
again. I wouldn’t need to.” His eyes raked over me with something
more than distaste and a worn, familiar feeling slipped through me.
He added in a cool tone, “Did Nick send you to his room to wait
obediently for him like the sweet, innocent girl you portray yourself
to be? Hmm?” He curled a finger under my chin. “Did he?” My lips
flattened refusing to rise to the bait. He bent closer; his words
floated over my lips. “We both know that’s not true, don’t we?”
I turned my head away, saddened he thought so low of me.
“You don’t know me anymore.”
“I know you better than anyone here, including Nick.” He
gripped my chin again forcing me to face him. “Maybe I should
reconsider this situation.”
“There is no situation.”
“Oh, but there is. You think I would stand by and let my friend
get fucked over by you?”
I jerked my chin away taking a step back. “Fine. If you want me
to leave, I will.”
He edged in on me with nostrils flared like a beast that’d just
been awakened. “Too late. I’ve changed my mind.”
I swallowed although my throat had gone dry. “Why?”
He shrugged with his eyes devoid of emotion.
“Do you hate me so much?”
“Hate is a weak emotion, Theodora.” He reached out and lightly
traced my collarbone.
“What is it you want, Roman?” My voice shook as my skin
quivered beneath his touch.
“Maybe I want to fuck you so hard until you have me etched in
your memories. Until I forget what a heartless liar you truly are.”
“Don’t.” I shoved at his chest, but he pressed in closer.
“Does the truth hurt?” His hips swiveled into mine feeling his
erection through our clothing. He was hard.
My eyes brows shot up startled by his apparent hatred and lust.
“You’re so wrong. This is wrong.”
 His finger trailed lower dragging down the hem of my top until it
bunched at the valley of my chest. His lips curled in a cruel grin.
“Don’t act like you have a conscience now. It doesn’t suit you.” His
finger stroked the swell of my breast.
I blinked trying to gather my senses. “You’re insane.”
“That may be true,” he retorted while his thumb traced slow
circles against my skin. He was an evil temptation cloaked in a
smooth warning. Roman was toying with me. I felt the unbridled
fury in his soft touch. I knew him too well. He added, “I wonder
what Nick would say if he walked in and saw your flushed cheeks
right now. How your lips are parted begging to be kissed. Or saw
your legs wrapped around my hips as I drove into your tight cunt.”
I curled my fingers around his hand flinging it to the side. He
was an egotistical dickhead. “That’s all this is isn’t it? You’re trying to
prove a point.”
“If I wanted to prove a point.” He slapped a palm on the wall
near my head caging me in. “It wouldn’t be difficult.”
I dug my nails into my palms, trying to keep my composure.
“Oh, sure. Here’s an excessively obvious point. I will never sleep
with you again.”
His intense eyes never fled mine. “Is that so?”
I nodded, never breaking our gaze. Minutes seemed to pass as
we stared. “I need to find Nick.” I made a move to scoot around him
but he clamped down hard on my shoulder.
“Stay away from him.”
I wouldn’t even grace him with an answer. “Let go, Roman. Or
—”
“Or what? What will you do? Enlighten me.”
His smug look was goading me, and I reacted without thinking,
doing something I only thought worked in movies. I swung my leg
up with all my might, shoving my knee into his crotch. Even as
tough as Roman was, he doubled over with a sharp exhale, cursing
my name. It was enough time to slip around him out of the room. I
fought the bubble of adrenaline rushing through me and passed
through the hall contemplating where I would go. Instinct had me
heading through the living room, searching for Kenzie and finding a
ride home. I scanned the room filled wall-to-wall with a crowd of
people waving their hands in the air, bumping and grinding like this
was the biggest music festival of the year. There was a snowball’s
chance in hell I’d find my roomie through this sea of people.
“Hey, where’ve you been? I thought I’d have to call out a search
party to find you.” Nick was at my side with a protective hand across
my shoulder, shielding more people from bumping into me.
I thought about Roman’s threat. Then, I shrugged and said, “I
wanted to tell Kenzie something, but…”
He studied my face with concern. “Is everything good? You
want me to take you home?”
I eyed the red cup in Nick’s hand and took it from him, sipping
the remainder of his drink feeling reckless and still riding my high.
“No.” I decided I wasn’t going to allow him to ruin my night ever
again.
“Okay. Cool.” Eventually he guided me away from the crowd.
Back down the hallway that was now semi-crowded. Back to the lair.
Ignoring the warning in my head to leave while I had the chance. I
knew I was tempting the devil, but at this point, I didn’t care.
Roman

I lost it. I was a fucking idiot, and when I saw her in my house
sitting next to Nick. Then, when she admitted being here because of
Nick. It’s like my control went up in flames. Get it. The fuck.
Together. I smoothed a hand over my shirt and stepped into the lair,
scoping out the crowd disdainfully, playing my part, but I wasn’t
really seeing anything. Diversion at its finest. I did my usual, but the
night was different from any other when we hosted a party.
I should’ve been pumped on a natural high. I should’ve been
acting the fool and chugging drinks like all my friends, lapping up
the attention that people so desperately laid on me. I should’ve been
thankful the Falcons were getting national attention after the game
today. We were a small private school nobody really knew about.
When I’d first stepped on campus, we were unknown. But now
people would know our name…Tonight, I knew the stakes and had
one of my best games ever. We’d defeated our hated rivals who
were favored to overtake us in most sports polls before the game.
Belated newsflash with spoilers—they didn’t.
Even that didn’t soothe the seething rage threatening to boil
over when I’d stepped into this room earlier and saw Theodora
sitting next to one of my best friends. Which was irrational, actually,
at face value. Except to me, it wasn’t. Hence, the reason I slipped
away and followed her into Nick’s room with the intent to kick her
ass out. However, I didn’t. Now, my balls were whining about the
way I handled the situation. Literally. Fucking pussies.
“Roman, smile, you just had one of your best games ever.”
Taylor snapped her fingers in front of my face. “You’ve been staring
into space like a whacked out weirdo for five minutes.”
I took a sip and gave her my attention. “I’m fine. Just wound
up.”
“Try to take down your intensity.” She held up two fingers. “Just
a notch.”
I tossed my drink back resolving myself to get rip-roaring drunk.
To hell with Theodora. Why was I even wasting my energy on
her? She’s the one who invaded my space. She’s the one who’d
ripped my heart out when she turned everything we had into
something ugly.
Then, I saw the heavy door to the room open.
And I saw her.
A halo of blond mussed hair bounced with each step she took.
Green eyes glittered with defiance as she flitted across the
room.
On the arm of Nick.
On the fucking arm of my best friend.
She didn’t listen. She didn’t heed my warning.
A thorn in my side she was, I heard a brash crunch echo in my
ears, realizing I crushed the plastic cup in my hand.

Theodora

“Do you want me to walk you up to your room?” Nick had one arm
slung carelessly over the steering wheel of his Ford F-150 Raptor.
 “I can manage. Thank you for taking me home.” I fought a
yawn. Kenzie and Justin wanted to go eat breakfast at the local all-
late night café where all the college kids flocked to and Nick had
joined us. Somehow, it kind of happened that Kenzie rode with
Justin and I ended up with Nick. Not that I was complaining. It was
nice to hang around someone who was fun and charming. Nice to
not feel my heart threatening to crash through my chest bone in a
rush of apprehension. Being with Nick was just nice. And that was
exactly what I needed. Although, I wasn’t immune to the dark gazes
I received throughout the evening from Roman while he partied with
his friends and had Taylor at his side. Surprisingly, he didn’t try to
publicly throw me out or confront me. Maybe he came to his senses.
Or he didn’t deem me so important. Would he always be on my
mind? Stupid girl. Clearly, I was still buzzing from the drinks I had
earlier.
“Not a problem. I like you, Theo.” He slid out of his seat, walked
with a confident swagger around the truck to open my door, helping
me step out. His hand was warm and big as he kept his hold, but it
didn’t send tingles up my skin. Nick was charismatic and looked like
the poster boy for any girl’s ideal dream date. He felt safe and had a
comfortable air about him.
His blue eyes crinkled under the lamplight in the campus
parking lot as we stood. I glanced behind me at the dorms. “Well,
thanks again.” I shifted my feet, not knowing what to say, wondering
if he was going to try to kiss me.
“My pleasure.” He rolled his lips as he continued peering at me.
My hand was still engulfed in his. “Good night, beautiful,” he said
softly and leaned in kissing me on the cheek, his lips lingering before
he pulled away.
I flitted my hand in the air awkwardly. “Good night.” I walked
steadily to the dorms and heard the roar of Nick’s truck engine
behind me. He didn’t drive off until I made it safely through the front
entrance.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Les Peterkins
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
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you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Les Peterkins

Author: Mark Twain

Translator: François de Gaïl

Release date: December 23, 2023 [eBook #72486]

Language: French

Original publication: Paris: Mercure de France, 1910

Credits: Véronique Le Bris, Laurent Vogel and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by the
Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica))

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LES

PETERKINS ***
 LES PETERKINS
DU MÊME AUTEUR
Contes choisis, traduits par Gabriel de Lautrec et précédés d’une
étude sur l’humour 1 vol.
Exploits de Tom Sawyer détective, et autres nouvelles,
traduits par François de Gail 1 vol.
Un Pari de Milliardaires, et autres nouvelles, traduits par
François de Gail 1 vol.
Le Prétendant américain, roman traduit par François de Gail 1 vol.
Plus fort que Sherlock Holmès, traduit par François de Gail 1 vol.
Le Capitaine Tempête, et autres contes, traduit par Gabriel de
Lautrec 1 vol.

MARK TWAIN

Les Peterkins
ET AUTRES CONTES

TRADUITS PAR

FRANÇOIS DE GAIL

PARIS
MERCVRE DE FRANCE
XXVI, RVE DE CONDÉ, XXVI
 MCMX

JUSTIFICATION DU TIRAGE:

Droits de traduction et de reproduction réservés pour tous pays.

TABLE
 LES PETERKINS

(D’APRÈS PEABODY HALE)

C’était bien le moment de se livrer à l’étude des langues. Les Peterkins
venaient d’entrer dans leur nouvelle maison, beaucoup plus confortable que
la précédente; ils devaient avoir la place pour toute chose et toute chose à sa
place.
Elisabeth-Elisa n’oubliait pas combien leur ancienne installation était
peu pratique; pendant longtemps, en effet, pour jouer du piano, elle avait été
obligée de s’asseoir dans la galerie de l’autre côté de la fenêtre. Mᵐᵉ
Peterkins se souvenait des difficultés qu’elle éprouvait au sujet des nappes
de table.
La nappe supérieure se trouvait dans une malle rangée contre la porte
d’une grande armoire située sous l’escalier; la nappe du dessous était
renfermée dans un tiroir de la grande armoire; de sorte que, lorsqu’il
s’agissait de changer les nappes, il fallait retirer et mettre de côté la malle
pour pouvoir ouvrir l’armoire, car on devait d’abord se servir de la nappe
du dessous; après cela, il fallait remettre en place la malle pour l’ouvrir et
en extraire la nappe supérieure.
Après tous ces déplacements, il était encore nécessaire de déplacer la
malle pour dégager la porte de l’armoire qui contenait la boîte à couteaux.
Ces déménagements successifs occasionnaient naturellement une grande
perte de temps.
Maintenant que la nouvelle maison des Peterkins était suffisamment
grande, ils trouveraient le moyen de tout loger. Agamemnon se réjouissait
surtout de l’installation de la nouvelle bibliothèque. Dans leur ancienne
maison, il n’y avait pas de pièce spéciale pour les livres: les dictionnaires
étaient au premier étage, chose fort incommode, et les volumes de
l’encyclopédie répartis en plusieurs endroits. Ainsi, les volumes de A
jusqu’à P se trouvaient au rez-de-chaussée, tandis que tous ceux de Q
jusqu’à Z étaient classés dans différentes chambres du premier étage.
Malheureusement on ne pouvait jamais se rappeler si la section de A à P
comprenait la lettre P.
—Je montais toujours au premier étage pour chercher P, disait
Agamemnon, et je m’apercevais que le volume se trouvait en bas; à chaque
instant c’était une nouvelle confusion.
Naturellement, maintenant, la nouvelle maison des Peterkins se prêtait
mieux à la vie studieuse. En ayant tous les livres dans la même pièce, on
évitait une grande perte de temps pour les chercher.
M. Peterkins suggéra à chacun des siens d’apprendre une langue
différente. S’ils voyageaient un jour à l’étranger ce serait on ne peut plus
commode: Elisabeth-Elisa pourrait parler français avec les Parisiens,
Agamemnon allemand avec les Allemands, Salomon-John italien avec les
Italiens; Mᵐᵉ Peterkins parlerait espagnol en Espagne; quant à lui, il
aborderait à la fois toutes les langues orientales en commençant par le russe.
Mᵐᵉ Peterkins n’était pas très décidée à apprendre l’espagnol; car toute
sa famille avait juré qu’elle n’irait jamais en Espagne à cause de son horreur
pour l’Inquisition. Mᵐᵉ Peterkins d’ailleurs partageait cette horreur avec ses
enfants.
Les voyages à l’étranger lui souriaient peu et elle avait toujours déclaré
qu’elle ne quitterait pas le sol natal avant qu’un pont fût jeté sur
l’Atlantique! (Or il n’en était pas encore question.) Agamemnon déclarait
qu’il ne fallait jurer de rien, que chaque jour on faisait de nouvelles
découvertes et qu’un pont ne serait assurément pas plus difficile à inventer
qu’un téléphone; dans les temps anciens on se servait déjà de ponts. La
question des professeurs vint alors sur le tapis. On pourrait certainement en
trouver à Boston. S’ils venaient tous le même jour il serait facile de
transporter trois d’entre eux dans le petit break. Agamemnon irait au-devant
d’eux, puis les reconduirait; de cette façon il s’habituerait à leur
conversation à l’aller comme au retour.
Monsieur Peterkins se documenta sur les langues orientales: on lui apprit
que le sanscrit était la base de toutes ces langues; aussi proposa-t-il à toute
sa famille de commencer par le sanscrit; ils n’auraient ainsi besoin au début
que d’un seul professeur et pourraient ensuite bifurquer sur les autres
langues.
Mais sa famille préféra apprendre des langues différentes. Elisabeth-
Elisa savait déjà un peu de français; elle avait essayé, sans grand succès,
d’en placer quelques mots à l’exposition du centenaire, mais elle s’était
aperçue qu’elle venait de lier conversation avec un Maure qui ne
comprenait pas le français.
M. Peterkins objecta qu’il leur faudrait plusieurs pièces pour leurs études
si tous les professeurs venaient à la même heure; mais Agamemnon lui fit
remarquer qu’ils se serviraient de dictionnaires différents. M. Peterkins était
d’avis qu’il vaudrait mieux avoir tous les professeurs en même temps, car
chaque élève pourrait, en plus de la langue qu’il étudierait, attraper des
bribes des autres langues; d’après lui le meilleur moyen d’apprendre à
parler une langue étrangère était d’entendre parler les autres autour de soi.
Mᵐᵉ Peterkins objecta que sa maison ressemblerait à une tour de Babel;
elle en prit cependant son parti.
Agamemnon signala une autre difficulté: naturellement il leur fallait des
professeurs étrangers qui parleraient chacun leur langue maternelle; mais,
dans ce cas, comment faire pour les inviter à venir à la maison, leur
expliquer la combinaison de la voiture, et arranger la répartition des heures
de leçon? Agamemnon se demandait comment on pouvait se tirer d’affaire
avec un étranger lorsqu’on était incapable de lui exposer ce qu’on désirait.
Elisabeth-Elisa répondit qu’en pareil cas les signes et la pantomime
devaient rendre de grands services. Salomon-John et les jeunes garçons se
mirent aussitôt à mimer. Elisabeth-Elisa expliqua que le mot «langue»
signifiait à la fois «langage et organe de la parole»; ils pouvaient donc
montrer leur langue pour se faire comprendre.
Comme exercice pratique, les jeunes garçons figurèrent les professeurs
étrangers parlant chacun leur langue maternelle; Agamemnon et Salomon-
John firent semblant de les inviter à venir instruire la famille au moyen
d’une série de signes.
M. Peterkins déclara que leur succès était admirable, et qu’ils pourraient
presque aller à l’étranger sans étudier les langues; il encouragea ses enfants
à se faire comprendre par signes. Pourtant, comme le pont n’était pas
encore construit, il vaudrait peut-être mieux attendre et cultiver les langues.
Mᵐᵉ Peterkins craignait que les professeurs étrangers ne se considérassent
comme invités au lunch: Salomon-John, en effet, n’avait cessé de montrer
sa bouche en l’ouvrant, la fermant et en sortant sa langue; il semblait plus
par là vouloir les inviter à manger que leur demander des leçons de langues.
Agamemnon suggéra qu’ils pourraient emporter avec eux les divers
dictionnaires lorsqu’ils iraient trouver les professeurs; cela exprimerait
qu’ils désiraient des leçons et les professeurs n’y verraient pas une
invitation au lunch.
Mᵐᵉ Peterkins trouvait plus prudent de préparer un lunch pour les
professeurs au cas où ils prendraient la visite pour une invitation, seulement
elle ignorait ce qu’ils mangeaient d’habitude. M. Peterkins pensa qu’il
serait très bon d’apprendre ce détail en fréquentant des étrangers, car, avant
de quitter leur pays natal, ils auraient ainsi l’occasion de s’habituer aux
plats étrangers. Les petits garçons se réjouissaient beaucoup à l’idée de
manger de nouveaux mets. Agamemnon avait entendu dire que la soupe à la
bière était le régal favori des Allemands et il se proposait, dès sa première
leçon, de s’en faire expliquer la préparation.
Salomon-John savait que tous les étrangers aiment beaucoup l’ail, aussi
pensa-t-il que les professeurs seraient enchantés de sentir une odeur d’ail
dans la maison dès leur première leçon, et qu’ils apprécieraient beaucoup
cette délicate attention.
Elisabeth-Elisa voulait faire à une de ses parentes habitant Philadelphie
la surprise de lui parler français. Aussi désirait-elle commencer ses leçons
avant la visite annuelle de sa famille de Philadelphie. Il y eut un léger retard
dans l’exécution de ces projets: M. Peterkins préférait trouver des
professeurs établis depuis peu dans la région, car il ne voulait pas subir la
tentation de parler anglais avec eux; il désirait des professeurs récemment
débarqués en Amérique, et il revint un soir chez lui avec une liste complète
des étrangers nouvellement arrivés. La famille Peterkins décida qu’elle
emprunterait aux Bromwicks leur break pour le premier jour, et M.
Peterkins et Agamemnon partirent en voiture à la ville pour ramener tous
les professeurs. L’un était un Russe, qui voyageait pour son plaisir et n’avait
nullement l’intention de donner des leçons; peut-être y consentirait-il, mais
dans tous les cas il ne savait pas un mot d’anglais.
M. Peterkins avait dans son porte-cartes les cartes des messieurs qui lui
avaient recommandé les différents professeurs; accompagné
d’Agamemnon, il alla d’hôtel en hôtel pour les convoquer. Il les trouva tous
très polis, tous prêts à venir après les explications données au moyen des
signaux convenus. Ils avaient oublié les dictionnaires, mais Agamemnon
possédait un guide qui pouvait les remplacer et qui sembla très approprié
aux étrangers.
 M. Peterkins dut se contenter d’un professeur russe, car il ne trouva
aucun maître de sanscrit nouvellement débarqué dans le pays.
Mais voici qu’une difficulté inattendue surgit lorsqu’ils mirent dans la
même voiture le professeur russe et le professeur d’arabe; ce dernier était
Turc et portait un fez sur sa tête; il s’assit au fond de la voiture! Ils se
regardèrent de travers et s’invectivèrent chacun dans leur langue sans que
M. Peterkins pût comprendre un traître mot. Etait-ce du russe, était-ce de
l’arabe? En tout cas il sautait aux yeux (ou plutôt aux oreilles) que les
individus ne voulaient à aucun prix se trouver dans la même voiture. M.
Peterkins était au désespoir; il avait oublié la guerre turco-russe! Quelle
gaffe énorme il venait de commettre en invitant le Turc!
Une foule de curieux s’était groupée devant l’hôtel. Le professeur
français pria très poliment le Russe de monter avec lui dans la première
voiture; mais une autre difficulté se présentait: le professeur allemand se
carrait tranquillement dans le fond de cette voiture!!!
Le professeur français avait à peine mis le pied sur le marche-pied qu’il
invectiva violemment le professeur allemand; ce dernier, furieux, sauta de
la voiture par la porte opposée, fit le tour en courant et le saisit au collet. A
n’en pas douter, l’Allemand et le Français ne pouvaient pas habiter
ensemble la même voiture! Pendant ce temps-là la foule des curieux
augmentait toujours.
Agamemnon, fort heureusement, savait dire en allemand le mot
«monsieur»; s’adressant au professeur allemand, il l’invita par signes à
prendre place dans l’autre voiture.
L’Allemand consentit à s’asseoir aux côtés du Turc. Enfin les voitures se
mirent en marche: M. Peterkins avait l’Italien à ses côtés, le professeur
français et le Russe étaient assis derrière et se parlaient sur un ton aigre qui
laissait supposer à M. Peterkins qu’ils n’étaient pas complètement d’accord.
Le voyage d’Agamemnon s’effectua dans un profond silence: l’Espagnol
assis à côté de lui semblait d’humeur maussade, tandis que le Turc et
l’Allemand n’échangèrent pas un traître mot.
En arrivant à la maison, ils furent reçus par Mᵐᵉ Peterkins et Elisabeth-
Elisa; par une délicate attention pour le professeur espagnol, Mᵐᵉ Peterkins
avait jeté sur ses épaules une mantille de dentelle. M. Peterkins introduisit
les professeurs dans la bibliothèque, mais il eut soin de les installer chacun
à une respectable distance l’un de l’autre. Salomon-John chercha le
dictionnaire italien et s’assit à côté du professeur italien. Agamemnon, avec
un dictionnaire allemand, se rapprocha du professeur allemand. Les jeunes
garçons montrèrent au Turc leur livre de «contes arabes». M. Peterkins
essaya d’expliquer au professeur russe qu’il ne possédait pas de dictionnaire
russe et qu’il avait espéré apprendre le sanscrit avec lui; de son côté Mᵐᵉ
Peterkins essaya de faire entendre à son professeur qu’elle n’avait pas de
livres espagnols. Elle oublia momentanément sa terreur de l’Inquisition et
essaya de lui glisser quelques mots en se servant de termes anglais
prononcés très lentement et en altérant son accent le mieux qu’elle pouvait.
L’Espagnol s’inclina, parut prendre grand intérêt à sa conversation, et se
montra très poli.
Pendant ce temps, Elisabeth-Elisa sortait au Parisien les quelques
phrases qu’elle connaissait. Elle parlait plus facilement français qu’elle ne
comprenait son professeur; lui, saisissait parfaitement ce qu’elle disait. Elle
récita son vocabulaire et ânonna l’exercice suivant: J’ai le livre.—As-tu le
pain?—L’enfant a une poire.—L’enfant sait-il sa leçon?
Le professeur écouta avec grande attention et répondit très distinctement
à chaque question. Soudain, après avoir récité une de ses phrases, elle se
leva, courut vers sa mère, et lui chuchota à l’oreille:—Ils ont, je crois,
commis l’erreur que vous redoutiez; ils se croient invités au lunch! il vient
de me remercier de notre aimable invitation à déjeuner.
—Ils n’ont pas pris leur déjeuner! s’exclama Mᵐᵉ Peterkins en regardant
l’Espagnol: il semble affamé! Qu’allons-nous faire?
Elisabeth-Elisa courut consulter son père. Qu’allaient-ils faire?
Comment leur faire comprendre qu’ils étaient invités à donner une leçon et
non au lunch? Elisabeth-Elisa pria Agamemnon de chercher le mot
«apprendre» dans le dictionnaire (apprendre devant signifier enseigner).
Hélas! ils s’aperçurent que ce mot voulait à la fois dire apprendre et
enseigner! Qu’allaient-ils faire?
Les étrangers se tenaient maintenant assis silencieux dans leur coin
respectif. L’Espagnol paraissait de plus en plus blême. Allait-il donc
s’évanouir? Le Français tortillait et effilait ses moustaches en regardant
l’Allemand. Que faire si le Russe venait à attaquer le Turc et si l’air
narquois du Parisien finissait par exaspérer l’Allemand?
—Il faut leur donner quelque chose à manger, dit M. Peterkins à voix
basse; cela les calmera.
 —Si seulement je savais ce qu’ils ont l’habitude de manger! continua
Mᵐᵉ Peterkins.
Salomon-John suggéra qu’aucun des professeurs ne savait ce que son
voisin avait l’habitude de manger: on pouvait donc leur offrir n’importe
quoi.
Mᵐᵉ Peterkins se montra plus hospitalière que son fils, et déclara
qu’Amanda pourrait préparer du bon café. M. Peterkins proposa un plat
américain. Salomon-John envoya un des jeunes garçons chercher des olives.
Bientôt on servit le café et un plat de fèves bouillies; peu après arrivèrent
les olives, le pain, des œufs à la coque et quelques bouteilles de bière.
L’effet fut prodigieux! Chaque individu se mit à parler sa propre langue
avec volubilité; Mᵐᵉ Peterkins versa du café à l’Espagnol qui s’inclina avec
grâce. Tous aimaient la bière, tous aussi les olives.
Le Français s’étendit longuement sur «les mœurs américaines».
Elisabeth-Elisa supposa qu’il faisait allusion à l’absence de nappe sur la
table. Le Turc souriait, le Russe parlait avec animation. Au milieu du
brouhaha produit par ces différentes langues, M. Peterkins répétait d’un air
navré:
—Comment leur ferons-nous donc comprendre qu’ils doivent nous
donner des leçons?
Au même instant la porte s’ouvrit et donna passage à la parente de
Philadelphie qui, arrivée le jour même, venait faire sa première visite.
En entendant le bruit tumultueux de ces différentes conversations, elle
recula d’effroi. La famille se précipita au-devant d’elle avec joie. Tous en
même temps lui demandèrent de leur servir d’interprète auprès des
professeurs. Pouvait-elle leur venir en aide? Pouvait-elle expliquer aux
étrangers qu’on attendait d’eux des leçons? Des leçons! A peine avaient-ils
prononcé ce mot que leurs hôtes se dressèrent tous comme un seul homme,
la face rayonnante de joie. C’était le seul mot anglais que tous
connaissaient. Ils étaient venus à Boston pour «donner des leçons». Le
voyageur russe espérait ainsi apprendre l’anglais. Cette idée de leçon
semblait leur plaire plus que le déjeuner. Assurément, ils donneraient bien
volontiers des leçons. Le Turc sourit à cette perspective. La glace était
rompue: les professeurs savaient maintenant qu’on attendait d’eux des
leçons.
 PERCE, MON AMI, PERCE!
I
Je prie le lecteur de vouloir bien jeter les yeux sur les vers suivants et de
me dire s’il leur trouve vraiment un caractère pernicieux:

Conducteur, quand tu reçois l’argent,

Perce, en présence du voyageur,
Un ticket bleu de dix cents,
Un ticket brun de huit cents,
Un ticket rose de quatre cents,
Perce en présence du voyageur!
(En chœur:)
Perce, mon ami, perce avec soin,
Perce, en présence du voyageur!

Je trouvai ces vers dans un journal, il y a quelque temps, et les relus deux
ou trois fois. A partir de cet instant, ils prirent possession de mon cerveau.
Pendant tout le temps du déjeuner, leur cadence se répercuta dans ma tête, si
bien qu’à la fin du repas, lorsque je roulai ma serviette, je fus incapable de
savoir si j’avais mangé ou non. La veille, je m’étais tracé mon programme
de travail pour le jour suivant: un drame poignant dans la nouvelle que
j’écris en ce moment.
Je me retirai chez moi pour composer ma tragédie; je pris ma plume,
mais mon esprit obsédé répéta comme un refrain: «Perce en présence du
voyageur.» Je luttai de toutes mes forces pendant une heure, mais ce fut
peine perdue. «Un ticket bleu de dix cents, un ticket brun de huit cents»,
etc.;—ces vers bourdonnèrent à mes oreilles sans trêve ni relâche.
C’était pour moi une journée perdue, je ne le comprenais que trop
maintenant. Je renonçai à mon travail et pris le parti de faire un tour en
ville; mais à peine sur le trottoir, je m’aperçus que mes pieds marquaient la
cadence de ces maudits vers. N’y tenant plus, je ralentis le pas; mais rien
n’y fit: le rythme de ces vers s’accommoda de ma nouvelle allure et
continua à me poursuivre.
 Je rentrai chez moi et souffris de cette obsession pendant tout le reste de
la journée; je me mis à table machinalement, et mangeai sans m’en rendre
compte; un mal de tête violent me prit, je criai d’agacement et me promenai
de long en large. Je me couchai, mais dans mon lit je ne fis que me tourner
et me retourner, poursuivi par les mêmes rimes. A minuit, devenu presque
enragé, je me levai et essayai de lire, mais à chaque ligne il me sembla que
je lisais: «Perce en présence du voyageur.» Au lever du soleil, je ne me
possédais plus, et chacun se demanda avec stupéfaction pourquoi je répétais
ce refrain idiot: «Perce, oh! perce en présence du voyageur.»

II
Deux jours plus tard, un samedi matin, je me levai plus mort que vif et
sortis pour retrouver un ami très apprécié de moi, le Révérend M., auquel
j’avais donné rendez-vous pour visiter la tour de Talcott, distante de plus de
dix milles. Mon ami me regarda sans me poser la moindre question. Nous
partîmes; suivant son habitude, M. parla comme un moulin à vent. Je ne lui
répondais pas, car je n’entendais rien. Au bout d’un mille, M. me demanda:
—«Mark, êtes-vous souffrant? Vous me paraissez aujourd’hui
terriblement abattu, hagard et distrait. Voyons, qu’avez-vous?»
D’un air lugubre, sans enthousiasme, je lui répondis: «Perce, mon ami,
perce avec soin, perce en présence du voyageur.»
Mon ami me regarda froidement, parut très perplexe et ajouta:
—Je ne saisis pas ce que vous voulez dire, Mark. Votre réponse ne
contient rien qui me paraisse particulièrement triste et pourtant la façon
dont vous venez de prononcer ces paroles, le son pathétique de votre voix
me frappent péniblement. Qu’avez-vous donc?»
Je n’entendis même pas ses paroles, absorbé par mon refrain: «Un ticket
bleu de dix cents, un ticket brun de huit cents, un ticket rose de quatre cents,
perce en présence du voyageur.» J’ignore ce qui se passa pendant les neuf
autres milles. Cependant, tout à coup, M. posa la main sur mon épaule et
s’écria:
—Oh! réveillez-vous, réveillez-vous, je vous en prie; ne dormez pas
toute la journée. Nous voici arrivés à la tour, mon cher. J’ai parlé comme
une pie-borgne pendant toute cette promenade sans obtenir de vous une
réponse; regardez donc ce magnifique paysage d’automne! Vous qui avez
voyagé, vous devez pouvoir faire des comparaisons. Voyons, donnez-moi
votre opinion, que pensez-vous de ce point de vue?
Je soupirai tristement et murmurai: «Un ticket brun de huit cents, un
ticket rose de quatre cents. perce en présence du voyageur!»
Le Révérend M. s’arrêta net et d’un air très grave me contempla des
pieds à la tête, puis ajouta:
—Mark, ceci me dépasse: les paroles que vous venez de prononcer sont
les mêmes que tout à l’heure; je ne leur trouve aucune signification spéciale
et pourtant, quand vous les prononcez, j’éprouve un pénible serrement de
cœur. «Perce, perce en...» Comment est donc la suite?
Je repris le vers depuis le commencement et lui récitai la tirade
complète. Le visage de mon ami s’illumina:
—Quelle charmante et étrange consonnance! me répondit-il, on dirait de
la musique; quel agréable rythme! Je crois avoir attrapé la cadence; voulez-
vous me répéter ces vers encore une fois et je les saurai complètement par
cœur.
Je lui redis mes vers; M. les répéta en commettant une légère erreur que
je rectifiai; après la troisième audition, il les dit parfaitement bien. A ce
moment il me sembla qu’un lourd fardeau venait de dégringoler de mes
épaules; mon cerveau se sentit débarrassé de ce torturant refrain et
j’éprouvai une profonde sensation de repos et de bien-être. Mon cœur était
si léger que je me pris à chanter pendant une demi-heure, tandis que nous
rentrions doucement chez nous. Ma langue déliée se mit à parler sans
discontinuer pendant une grande heure; les paroles coulaient de ma bouche
comme l’eau d’une fontaine. Au moment de prendre congé de mon ami, je
lui serrai la main et lui dis:
—Quelle royale promenade nous venons de faire! Mais je constate que
depuis deux heures vous ne n’avez pas adressé la parole. Voyons, parlez, à
votre tour, racontez-moi quelque chose.
Le Révérend M. jeta sur moi un regard lugubre, poussa un profond
soupir et articula machinalement: «Perce, mon ami, perce avec soin, perce
en présence du voyageur!»
J’éprouvai une cruelle angoisse et pensai en moi-même: «Mon pauvre
ami, cette fois, il le sait, ton refrain.»—Je ne vis plus le Révérend M.
pendant deux ou trois jours. Mardi soir, il apparut de nouveau devant moi et
se laissa tomber comme une masse dans un fauteuil; il était pâle, abattu,
horriblement déprimé. Levant sur moi ses yeux éteints il me dit:
—Ah! Mark, quelle horrible découverte j’ai faite en apprenant vos vers!
Ils me poursuivent comme un cauchemar nuit et jour, heure par heure, sans
la moindre trêve. Depuis que je vous ai vu, j’ai souffert mort et passion.
Appelé samedi soir, par télégramme, je pris le train de nuit pour Boston: un
de mes meilleurs amis venait de mourir et sa famille me priait de prononcer
son éloge funèbre. Je m’assis dans mon compartiment et essayai d’élaborer
le plan de mon discours. Il me fut impossible d’aller plus loin que la
première phrase, car, à peine le train venait-il de s’ébranler en faisant
entendre le monotone «clac, clac, clac» des roues, que vos vers odieux
martelèrent mes oreilles avec ce bruit de roues pour accompagnement.
Pendant une heure, je restai assis dans mon coin et prononçai une syllabe de
ces vers à chaque claquement distinct des roues.
Un violent mal de tête étreignit mon crâne; j’eus l’impression que je
deviendrais fou si je restais plus longtemps assis à ma place. Je me
déshabillai donc et gagnai ma couchette. Je m’y étendis. Vous devinez ce
qui se passa:
Clac, clac, clac, un ticket bleu—clac, clac, clac, de dix cents—clac, clac,
clac, un ticket brun—clac, clac, clac, de huit cents—etc... perce en présence
du voyageur!

III
Impossible de fermer l’œil. En arrivant à Boston j’étais fou à lier. Ne me
demandez pas comment se passèrent les funérailles. Je fis de mon mieux,
mais chacune de mes périodes graves et solennelles commença et finit
invariablement par: «perce, mon ami, perce avec soin, perce en présence du
voyageur.» Pour comble de malheur, j’adoptai dans mon éloge funèbre la
cadence ondulée de ces vers néfastes et je vis, à ma grande stupeur, les
auditeurs distraits, complètement absorbés, battre la mesure en dodelinant
de leurs stupides têtes. Vous me croirez si vous voulez, Mark, mais avant la
fin de mon discours, l’assemblée tout entière, y compris les parents du
défunt, ses amis et les indifférents, hochaient placidement la tête à l’unisson
de mes paroles.
 Lorsque j’eus fini, je m’enfuis dans la sacristie, exaspéré au plus haut
point; là je rencontrai une vieille demoiselle très âgée, tante du défunt, qui
était arrivée de Springfield trop tard pour pénétrer dans l’église. Elle me dit
en sanglotant:
—Oh! il est parti, c’est fini! Et je n’ai pas pu le voir avant sa mort.
—Oui, fis-je, il est parti, il est parti, il est parti!...
—Oh! vous l’aimiez bien, vous! Vous l’aimiez tant!
—J’aimais qui?
—Mais mon pauvre Georges, mon pauvre neveu!
—Lui! Oh! oui, certainement... certainement. «Perce, mon ami,
perce.»—Quelle misère!
—Merci, monsieur, merci pour ces bonnes paroles; sa mort me fait
tellement souffrir. Avez-vous assisté à ses derniers moments?
—Oui, je...—derniers moments de qui?
—De notre cher défunt.
—Oh! oui—oui—oui. Je le suppose.—Je le crois bien! oh! oui,
certainement j’étais là, j’étais là.
—Quelle douce consolation! Rapportez-moi ses dernières paroles. Qu’a-
t-il dit?
—Il disait, il disait (oh! ma tête, ma tête, ma pauvre tête!) il n’a cessé de
répéter: Perce, perce, perce en présence du voyageur! Oh! laissez-moi,
Madame! Au nom de ce qu’il y a de plus sacré, laissez-moi à ma folie, à ma
misère, à mon désespoir! «Un ticket brun de huit cents—un ticket rose de
quatre cents.»—Vraiment je n’y puis plus tenir!... «Perce en présence du
voyageur!»
Mon ami me regarda alors avec des yeux désespérés et me dit avec une
expression touchante:
—Mark, vous ne dites rien; vous ne me donnez pas le moindre espoir; ne
pouvez-vous donc pas m’apporter une parole de consolation? Hélas! le
temps n’est plus à l’espérance! Quelque chose me fait pressentir que ma
langue est condamnée pour toujours à répéter ce refrain macabre. Tenez, le
voici encore qui revient: «Un ticket bleu de dix cents—un ticket brun de...»
Ce murmure s’éteignit peu à peu; mon ami tomba dans une douce extase
qui apporta à ses souffrances un répit bienfaisant.
 Pour le préserver d’une entrée imminente à l’asile des aliénés, je le
conduisis à l’Université la plus proche, et là, il put décharger le pénible
fardeau de ses rimes obsédantes dans les oreilles des pauvres étudiants.
Qu’est-il arrivé à ces étudiants? Je préfère me taire et ne pas faire connaître
le triste résultat de cette transmission.
Pourquoi ai-je écrit cet article? C’est dans un but élevé et très louable;
c’est pour vous avertir, lecteurs, que si quelque jour vos yeux rencontrent
ces rimes impitoyables, vous devez les fuir plus que la peste.
 POURQUOI J’ÉTRANGLAI MA
CONSCIENCE
Je me sentais de bonne humeur, presque joyeux. J’approchai une
allumette de mon cigare et juste à ce moment on m’apporta le courrier du
matin. Sur la première enveloppe qui me tomba sous les yeux, je reconnus
une écriture qui me donna un frisson de plaisir. C’était une lettre de ma
tante Marie; cette chère tante, je l’aimais et la vénérais plus que n’importe
qui au monde. Elle avait été l’idole de mon enfance. La maturité,
d’ordinaire si fatale à certains enthousiasmes, n’avait pas été capable de
déloger ma tante de son piédestal. Pour vous donner une idée de la grande
influence qu’elle exerçait sur moi, je vous avouerai que tandis que tous les
autres s’évertuaient inutilement à me supplier de moins fumer, tante Marie
savait seule émouvoir ma conscience engourdie lorsqu’elle abordait ce sujet
délicat. Mais tout a une limite ici-bas. Un jour heureux vint enfin, où même
les admonestations de tante Marie ne surent plus m’émouvoir.
Ma tante vint passer un hiver auprès de nous et sa visite me causa un
grand plaisir. Naturellement elle me conjura d’un air très sérieux
d’abandonner ma pernicieuse habitude, mais dès qu’elle aborda ce sujet je
devins d’un calme, d’une indifférence absolus. Les dernières semaines qui
marquèrent la fin de cette mémorable visite s’écoulèrent comme un rêve
charmant et me procurèrent une paisible satisfaction. Assurément je
n’aurais pas savouré davantage mon vice favori si mon aimable bourreau
avait été lui-même un fumeur ou un zélé défenseur de cette habitude.
Eh bien! l’écriture de ma tante me rappela que j’étais très désireux de la
revoir. Je devinais facilement ce que pouvait contenir sa lettre. Je l’ouvris.
Comme je m’y attendais elle annonçait sa venue pour le jour même, par le
train du matin.
Je pensai en moi-même: «Je me sens en ce moment parfaitement
heureux et bien disposé; si mon plus implacable ennemi pouvait maintenant
se dresser devant moi, je réparerais bien volontiers les torts que j’aurais pu
avoir envers lui.»