As I gathered my things to leave, a note under the door caught my attention.

Please come to the game.

I want you there.

Your Romeo x My Romeo?

Well... shit.

6.

"Ah, c'mon Rome! Get your head in the game!" Ally was on her feet, her hands waving about, along with Cass and every other person in the one hundred thousand-seater stadium-well everyone except me. I literally had no idea what the heck was going on.

I'd decided to go to the game. Ally had a spare ticket and had tried to convince me since the beginning of the season to use it, but I always declined. This time, however, I couldn't get the hurt look on Romeo's face out of my mind when I'd told him I wouldn't come, and so I caved and found myself sat at my very first Tide game.

It was the note.

I'd become the hopeless romantic girl I never thought I would be, and his sweet words had tipped me over the edge.

"Rome! What the hell? Argh!!!" Ally screamed once more.

We were sitting at the lower level student seating area of Bryant-Denny Stadium watching the Tide play Auburn University-the local derby, and biggest rivals-and apparently, Rome wasn't having a great game, the third of the season where he was off his usual perfect form. I looked to the Jumbotron and saw a close-up shot of him snapping loose his chinstrap and cursing like a sailor, slamming his fist into the ground, and shoving players out of his way, obviously unhappy with whatever just happened.

The whole bad-boy thing he was working on the field was extremely sexy, and coupled with the way his uniform showcased his impressive form-well, it should practically have been illegal.

Ally had her head in her hands, peering through the gaps between her fingers, her face one of desperation. Cass-who had just tucked into her third corn dog-was shaking her head in disappointment.

The cheerleaders began their stunts and I watched as Lexi kicked her legs with glee. She'd made the cheerleading squad with flying colours, flooring the competition with her backhand spring and triple split cartwheel. She was one happy Goth.

I took that moment to take in my surroundings. The stadium that was the home of the Crimson Tide was immense. The atmosphere was electric, and I quickly realised why Rome was so well known around campus and quite frankly, all of Alabama.

The moment he had run out of the tunnel, his face and statistics broadcasted on the giant screen at the end zone. As he and the team took to the field, the hundred thousand-strong crowd chanted, "Roll Tide!" at the top of their lungs to the accompaniment of blaring horns and the thunder of drums. It was beyond anything I'd ever seen before.

Every time Rome threw the ball, the fans held their breath, almost in prayer, and unfortunately up until that point, he hadn't successfully completed one of his passes. I was told by Cass, in no uncertain terms, that this was a very bad thing.

Back on the pitch, Rome was hauling his angry frame back to the bench where a coach proceeded to shout in his face, smacking his hand against a clipboard to emphasis his point. I had a sudden urge to leap from my seat and push the man away from him.

I faced Ally. "Why is he getting told off? So what? He missed a few throws. Is it really all that bad?"

"Yeah, it's that bad. Rome can't afford to miss all these plays, Mol. He's a senior and regarded as the top quarterback in the country-a sure win for the first draft. All eyes are on him. Plus, if the Tide is gonna make the National Championship again this year, we need him a hundred and ten percent. He's currently pulling about twenty. I've never seen him so off. I just don't understand it." She looked baffled.

The crowd began cheering again and when I looked to the field, Rome was running back to the gridiron, fixing his helmet back in place.

As usual, the sun was beaming down in Tuscaloosa and the close-packed, open-roofed stadium was getting far too hot. I had worn a short white linen sleeveless dress and a pair of Ally's brown mid-calf cowboy boots, which she had kindly given to me as a hallelujah, you're comin' to a game' present. She'd told me bluntly, that I had to fit in and adopt a sassy southern attitude. I'd also honoured this occasion with a covering of light makeup, and I found that I actually loved the country look.

"I'm going to grab a Diet Coke. Either of you want anything?" I asked, shouting over the roars and cheers, batting away a mosquito with my hand, needing a respite from the intense heat in the stadium.

Ally shook her head, too engrossed in watching the game, and Cass reached into her pocket, pulling out a twenty. "A large bag of chips and a root beer, darlin'."

I took the money and made my way along the side of the field towards the indoor vendors. I'd only made it about ten steps when thousands of heads started to turn in slow motion, following my path. Before I had a chance to even guess why, the ball surged into the crowd and two men began to fight over who would keep it. Their ruckus caused them to careen my way, and I was smacked in the nose by a stray elbow, the impact of which had me hurtling on my arse. To compliment the hit, the crowd expelled a collective "oooh" and security came over and hauled away the two men.

My hands instinctively flew to my nose, which felt a little tender yet intact, and as far as I could tell, there was no blood. My glasses, however, were a different story and came apart in my hands. I clung to them the pieces as people hurried over, asking if I was okay. I heard a man shouting that he was a medic and he bent beside me, his hands skirting over my face.

"I think the impact of the ball just snapped my glasses," I stated, taking the offered help from the squat and balding medic to help me stand. As I got to my feet, the crowd began clapping and I held my cracked glasses to my face, an arm in each hand, and surveyed the stadium, noticing to my mortification that my little fumble had been televised on the Jumbotron.

"Prince! PRINCE! Where the hell do you think you're goin'?!" an angry male voice screamed and the small crowd around me began to part.

I peeked my head in the direction of the opening path, only to see Rome running my way. The expression on his face was one of utter horror as I stood holding my snapped glasses to my eyes.

"Shit, Shakespeare! I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" he asked, panic in his voice. He dropped his helmet to the floor and both his hands cupped my face, tilting up my head, searching for injuries with his large brown eyes.

"Rome, I'm okay. I was saved by my glasses. They laid their life on the line to save my nose. You don't need to apologise. It's the two drunken idiots that landed on my face who are the dicks!" I held up my now two-piece set of black frames-losing my vision for a second before holding them back in place.

When I could see again, I noticed Rome pull a small smile and shake his head. "It had to be you. Out of everyone in this entire fuckin' stadium, it had to be you who was involved. I'm no longer surprised; you're always there. I think someone's tryin' to tell me somethin'."

I shrugged. "I was going for a Coke."

He laughed gently. "During my play?"

"Err, well, quite honestly, I didn't know what the hell was going on, and I was thirsty."

Women bent over the rails, screaming at Rome.

"We love you, bullet!"

"Take me home with you, honey!"

"Fuck me, seven!"

His smile dropped at my distracted attention. He gripped my chin so I focused solely on him. "You came."

"I came," I answered with a smile.

"Why did you change your mind?"

"You got through to me," I teased, relaying his words from our heated corridor argument.

Rome huffed out a laugh.

"Miss? We need to take you to the medical room to check you over-policy, I'm afraid. If you'd like to come with me." The medic held my arm and tried to usher me away.

Rome put up his finger to pause him for a second before bending slightly to meet my gaze. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good. Now, don't you've a game to win? I'm sure all these people didn't come here today to see us chatting."

"Yeah, I was kinda in the middle of somethin' before you decided to walk into that drunken fight."

I went to follow the medic, when Rome suddenly dipped down, laying a lingering kiss on my lips. It was tender and soft, different from our usual frantic, spur of the moment fumbles.

We locked eyes for a second longer before Rome ran back to the field, determination on his face. The crowd openly gawked, wondering why the star quarterback had been so interested in the injured girl.

In the safety of the medical room, I began to regain my composure when an abrupt, rapturous roar seemed to shake the very foundations of the stadium, causing me to jump up from my seat.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a panic.

The medic looked to the small TV screen in the corner. "Hot damn!"

"What?"

"Bullet just hit a wide receiver for a forty-yard touchdown."

"That's a good thing, right, a touchdown?"

He swung his attention back 'round to me, no doubt wondering if I did have a head injury after all. "Yes, that's a very good thing, especially with only one quarter to go. We're tied. We have fifteen minutes to take the W."

"The W?"

"The win," he replied on an exasperated sigh.

"Right. Gotcha," I mumbled, deciding it was best to shut up.

The medic turned off the TV to remove the distraction, finished his examination, and helped me use white sports tape to put my glasses back together, the crude repair job fully visible on the bridge of my nose. Not the best of fashion statements, but it would have to do. Like my Grandma would say, "Ca sera sera."

I returned to my seat, only to hear the final whistle blow and the crowd erupt into screams of ecstasy. Cass and Ally were jumping up and down and on seeing me, both rushed in my direction, practically tackling me to the floor. I held on tight. I would not hit the deck twice.

"Molly! Are you okay? We watched it on the big screen," Ally asked, her dark eyes widening as she stared at my face. "Darlin', your glasses!" She leaned back and frantically searched me for any visible marks.

"Yeah, Molls, I can't believe you took an elbow to the face-Molly Shakespeare, the newest member of fight club. It was friggin' hilarious." Cass laughed, holding her stomach as if it were hurting. She suddenly lost her smile. "Where's my chips and root beer?"

"I didn't quite get around to it, Cass!" She pouted and crossed her arms in disappointment.

"Did we win?"

Ally wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Win? We completely smashed 'em, darlin'. After Rome kissed you, he went back on the field a different person and hit every pass, every play. He was friggin' MVP."

My eyes bugged. "Well, that's good, right? Most valuable player?"

"Good? Honey, people were saying it was your kiss that gave him some much needed good luck."

I stepped back and viewed her sceptically. "Why would that be lucky?"

"It turned his game right 'round, a full one-eighty." She smiled and clapped excitedly.

Cass put her hands on my waist and turned me to face the Jumbotron. "You see?"

Bloody hell.

The guys that control the screen had worked hard in my absence. The collage playing on repeat began with Rome missing a series of plays. It then cut to me being piled upon by two drunken idiots, being smacked in the face with an elbow, and falling to the floor-it looked worse than it'd felt. Next, Rome was running off the field, ignoring the coach, leaving his teammates gaping after his retreating form, then capturing my face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss. The final segment showed his three winning touchdown shots that I'd missed while in the medical room.

It was too much. My heartbeat took off at a feverish rate and my chest tightened. I hated being the centre of attention, and being broadcast to thousands of people was more than I could handle. Add Romeo's kiss into the mix and I was an anxious-ridden mess. I was a firm believer that not everyone should be in the spotlight; I put myself first in that queue.

I turned slowly to face the field where Rome was doing interviews and, surprise, surprise, Shelly jumped in the shot next to him, kissing him on the cheek, acting the proud girlfriend.

I felt my heart plummet as I stared at Shelly and Rome together, and one thing became glaringly obvious-I was way out of my league.

I'd been so friggin' stupid in coming here, in thinking anything could happen with someone like Rome. He was the most popular guy on campus, lusted after by a stampede of aggressively determined girls, and I was a bookworm, a painfully private introvert.

Romeo Prince should be with someone like Shelly. Someone who fit seamlessly into his high-pressured, glamorous life.

I turned to Ally and Cass, trying to hide my emotions. "I'm off home. I have to get back to study. I'll catch you guys later."

I walked out of the stadium before they could put up a protest and tried, over and over, to forget the feel of Romeo's beautifully soft lips against mine.

To quote Romeo himself. "Easier said than done."

7.

"Molls, get your juicy English ass out! We're gettin' trashed and need the fourth musketeer!"

"Seriously, Cass, for the last time, I'm gonna pass, but thanks anyway." A loud rustling blasted through the speaker and I had to hold my phone away from my ear. Cass was clearly already intoxicated-friggin' moonshine.

"Molly? Molly!" Ally had taken charge of the phone.

"I'm here, Ally."

"You sure you won't come, darlin'? I don't like that you're alone in your room and everyone's here having a good time."

"Seriously, Ally, I'm fine. I'm just tired."

There was a long pause, allowing me to hear the Zac Brown Band and loud chattering booming in the background. "Fine, darlin'. I'll catch you in the morning, but if you change your mind, call me."

"Okay, hun. Have fun!"