Free Bad Romeo by Leisa Rayven Page B

audition for Juliet. You’d be perfect.”
    The phrase “you’d be perfect” resounds in my brain like a sweet, sexy echo.
    “Well, maybe I will try out,” I say, practically toeing the pavement. “Even on my suckiest day I’m still better than Zoe.”
    He chuckles. “That’s true.”
    “So what about you?” I say, walking slowly as he falls into step beside me. “Are you auditioning for Romeo?”
    He shakes his head. “No way. I’d have to have my balls removed to play that pussy.”
    “Hey, that’s no way to talk about one of the greatest romantic heroes of all time.”
    “He’s not a hero, Taylor, he’s a limp, fickle dick who confuses lust with love and kills himself over a chick he’s just met.”
    “Harsh!” I say and laugh. “You don’t believe he loved Juliet?”
    “Fuck, no. He was dumped by Hot Girl Number One—Rosaline. He pines over her like a kid who’s lost his puppy, or his pussy, as the case may be. Then, through a chain of unlikely events, he meets Hot Girl Number Two—Juliet. He immediately forgets all about Hot Girl Number One and is so pathetically desperate to fuck Hot Girl Number Two that he proposes marriage to her within hours of meeting her. I mean, come on. Her vagina could offer shiatsu massage and whistle the national anthem—it’s still not worth marrying her to get a piece of it.”
    I shake my head over the massive mound of cynical walking beside me in human form.
    “So you don’t think there’s the slightest possibility he just fell in love at first sight?”
    “Love at first sight is a myth invented by romance novel authors and Hollywood. It’s bullshit.”
    “Jeez, how did you get to be so jaded?”
    “I’m not jaded. Just realistic.”
    “Sure you are.”
    He stops and turns to me, his face all serious. “Think about it like this. Just imagine you see a hot guy. You have an immediate, powerful reaction to him. Do you love him?”
    Not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this line of questioning.
    “Well … I … uh—”
    “Okay, I’ll turn it around. I see a girl. For some reason, looking at her is like … God, I don’t know. Like finding something precious I never knew I lost. I feel something for her. Something primal. Are you trying to tell me that what I feel is love? Not lust?”
    “I don’t know. Is this hypothetical girl hot?”
    “Fuck, yes. Hot in a way I never thought hot could be. Just looking at her turns me on. It’s annoying as hell.”
    Okay. This conversation has taken a seriously arousing turn. Just what I need today.
    “I … well…”
    “Come on, Taylor. Am I in love?”
    I’m looking at his crotch. “Well … uh, I don’t know. It’s hard”—God, I said hard while looking at his crotch—”to say. I mean … uh … wow.”
    “Of course I’m not in love! It’s a bizarre chemical reaction that’ll pass. I’m not going to ask her to marry me just so I can fuck her.”
    My mind goes to very porny places.
    “Taylor!” He clicks his fingers in front of my face. “Focus.”
    “So … uh … you think a strong reaction to someone of the opposite sex is always purely physical?”
    “Yes. If Romeo and Juliet had happened in real life, minus the ridiculous deaths, Juliet probably would have destroyed Romeo in the end by fucking Mercutio.”
    He’s dead serious. It’s funny and tragic at the same time.
    “Think about it, Taylor,” he says as he leans forward. “If Romeo thought he loved Rosaline and she broke his heart, why wouldn’t he be terrified of Juliet, considering his connection to her is a hundred times stronger?”
    I raise my eyebrows. “Maybe he’s brave enough to think it’s worth the risk.”
    “Yeah, and maybe he’s just horny and stupid.”
    “The romantic argument would be that if they’d denied their … love … connection … whatever you want to call it, they’d be hollow. Isn’t that the point of living? To find the one person in all the world who’s your perfect