Chapter 1: First Meet Foul: Chapter 1

I’d never actively thought about committing a crime, but Mrs. Henrietta Whittaker had me contemplating it.

“What do you mean you’re selling the complex?”

“Ms. Romano, the letter you received explained it clearly. As did the email and posters I’ve hung all over the building.” She pushed her gray hair behind her ears and huffed. “Stop making a fuss. It’s not my fault you failed to realize the severity.”

“The building is on campus.”

She blinked. “I know where it’s located, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“You’re giving us a month’s notice to find another place? In September? When most of campus’s housing is booked?”

She eyed me up and down, her gaze narrowing on my duffel bag with the Central State Soccer logo. After pushing away from her computer chair, she used one finger to adjust her glasses. “There is nothing more to add to this conversation. It’s being sold. You have thirty days. Now excuse me, I need to do anything but repeat the same conversation with you.”

Mrs. Whittaker turned her back on me, dismissing me in the rudest way possible. I clenched my fists, my left eye twitching as images rushed through my mind. Me stealing her car. Me spray painting on her computer. Me shaving off her eyebrow.

It’d feel good as hell to see her pointy face all red and pouty, then she’d understand how much she ruined my day. Hell, year. My vision board contained images of this exact building, with the ivy and exposed brick and a coffee shop on the first floor. I’d be far away from Eric—the ex who broke my heart. My goal was to hang with Mackenzie and focus on earning the internship in marketing. I’d have to beat out everyone else in my marketing class, Eric included, and this place had the perfect café on the bottom floor where I planned to work.

Only… not so much anymore.

So not only did I have to worry about my soccer season, keep up with my grades, impress my professor to get the internship, and try not to show Eric how much he hurt me because the ass signed up for my same class, but I also had to find a place to live in thirty days.

A scream built inside me, and I did the only thing I knew to deal with stress: run.

After dropping my duffel in my room, I put in my earbuds and set off for a jog. My feet hit the pavement in dull thuds, the sneaker to cement sound a consistent rhythm that matched my music. I jogged along the quad, near Greek Row and most the houses the athletes lived at, and that was when it hit me. The solution of all solutions. My saving grace. My holy grail.

See? This was why I ran. It solved shit. It kept me in shape and let my mind settle down to think, and wham, bam, thank you ma’am, I wasn’t gonna be sleeping in the library…probably.

There were perks to having your twin brother attend the same school and be the starting quarterback, like not getting a parking ticket because they never knew what Romano they were dealing with. The name had weight, and even though I liked to think I held my own as a scholarship recipient for soccer, I knew it was my brother’s reputation. Dean Romano was the face of the football team, and he wasn’t completely hideous.

There were definite cons of having him here, like my so-called friends using me to get closer to him, to being recognized if we went anywhere as a family, to his face being all over campus. But right now, there was a huge-ass perk sitting in front of me.

My brother is down a roommate.

It felt wrong to be happy one of his teammates had injured his leg and moved back home for the semester, but that left an empty room that I wanted to claim. I adjusted my route to head toward the football house, hope blooming in my chest like my favorite appetizer—the blooming onion.

Sweat covered my neck and chest as the September humidity clung to the air, and my dark curly hair went in every direction. I hummed to myself as I stood in front of an old-bricked building. A large porch with a couch led to a blue front door with a football painting on it. I rolled my eyes. Could my brother live in a more obvious house?

I paused my dance mix playlist and sent him a text. You up? I’m outside.

It was ten on a Monday, and the guy lived and breathed football, so if he wasn’t home, he’d be at the gym or at the field watching tape. I needed him to be home though. The thought of not having a place to stay made my skin crawl and my stomach heave.

It derailed my plans, and I stuck to my plans. They were my commandments, and Eric had thrown the first wrench in them. Now the apartment? I was one distraction away from losing it.

Dean: what do you want?

Lorelei: fame and fortune

Dean: go away

Lorelei: this is serious

Dean: five minutes

I raised my fist in a cheer just as the front door swung open.

“That was mighty fast, Deansie Boy. Thought about breaking in tbh,” I said in my most cheerful voice.

The door closed, revealing the person who opened it. It was not Dean. Not at all. It was Luca Monroe, the guy whose first word to me was ugh two years ago. My eyes widened, and I slammed my mouth shut as the giant, grumpy, and wee-bit-too-handsome tight end stared daggers at me.

Not small daggers either. Big ones. Like swords.

He wore black jeans and orange chucks as well as a white polo with a football logo on the chest. The fabric pulled tight across his pecs, but I made sure to not notice. Luca might be hot and a mystery and talented on the field, but he and I were enemies. Not full-on fight to the death enemies but more the “go out of his way to make my life hell” kind. Like, he always used my machine at the gym when I went to run or how he’d interrupt me every time I talked or how he insulted me to his friends.

It was…fine.

My stomach tied up in knots at seeing his dark expression, but I refused to cower. Luca Monroe disliked me for some reason, and that had never mattered until this very second. Because if I was going to beg my brother for the spare room, then that meant sharing this house with Luca. Sonofabeezy.

“Why hello there, handsome.” I flashed a smile, clasping my hands behind my back to hide my nerves. I loved complimenting him because it threw him off his grump game. The best defense against a jerk? Surprise. “You look wonderful—swell I’d even say.”

He blinked. “Why are you here?”

“To rob you?” I tilted my head to the side, enjoying the evident irritation on his face. His brows furrowed, and his lips were pressed in a thin line. Yes, I might’ve enjoyed annoying him. It was better than fretting over what I’d done for him to dislike me. I still could see the cringe on his face and the ugh sound he’d made when I held out my hand and introduced myself freshmen year.

His jaw tensed before he sighed. He reminded me of my rude uncle who thought the world’s purpose was to make him angry. Luca had big anger energy. Ragergey.

“Dean’s busy.” His clipped voice was as pleasant as metal cleats on tile.

“He texted me he’ll be here in a few minutes. Can I go inside?”

“No. You can wait here.” He crossed his arms, his gaze remaining on my face.

Luca had dark brown eyes that were the same shade as his hair. Luscious, wavy hair that kinda had me jealous. I had no doubt he could use any product he wanted and make his locks look perfect.

Not like my feral curls.

He eyed my hair, and I instantly ran my fingers through it, self-conscious that the wild curls were even more extra. The wind gave me more wisps, but I scolded myself for caring. It was Luca ugh Monroe.

“Nah, I think I’ll head inside.” I stepped toward the entrance, but he held out an arm, like he planned to block me. “You for real, bro?”

“I’d prefer you don’t go in there.’

“And I’d prefer that female athletes were paid the same as men, but we don’t all get what we want, do we?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling something before heading down the stairs in two large steps. The guy had thick thighs, that was for sure. If he wasn’t always so rude to me, I’d think him handsome.

Sigh. I needed a place to live more than I needed to stay away from Luca. If I remembered correctly, there were five bedrooms in the house on two separate floors. Maybe I’d have the room farthest away from Luca so we’d never have to see each other.

My stomach fluttered with the fact that Dean could say no, that they’d found another roommate, or it had flooded or something. My confrontation with Luca rattled me, and I paced the porch until Dean finally walked out.

Of course he’d just woken up.

“What is it?” He yawned and ran a hand through his messy hair. “You said it was serious, and I have someone waiting for me.”

“Gross.” I made a blech sound. “Better get to the point then, huh?” I laughed, my nerves escaping.

Dean narrowed his eyes and sighed. “Please, Lo, spit it out.”

“I need to live here.”

“What? No.” He coughed into his fist. “It’s the football house.”

“Technically, accurately speaking, soccer is more football than your football, so if there was some unwritten rule, this wouldn’t break it.” I faked a smile as my stomach rolled with unease. “Dean, someone sold my building. I have thirty days to find a room, and unless I want a place miles off campus, this is my only hope.”

“Christ.” He rubbed his palms over his eyes, yawning loud enough to wake a sleeping bear. Death by bear seemed better than no place to stay. But I wasn’t desperate…yet.

Dean might act like I was the dramatic one, but he had his moments. I put my hands together in full begging mode. “I’ll cook dinner? Bake cookies? Hide in the closet?”

He rubbed his palms over his eyes, groaning like an eighty-year-old man. “The guys won’t like it.”

“You’re the quarterback. They listen to you,” I fired back. Worry didn’t look good on me. I never cried. I refused to, but my eyes prickled, and the feeling of losing control gripped me head to toe. I’d spiral. I had been since Eric dumped me two months ago. “I’ll pay, obviously. I’m an athlete, so I won’t mess around. And I can be a bro. I’m easy.” I hopped from one foot to the other, like the dance proved how laid-back I was.

“You, are not easy.” He glared at me. “You blow fuses, leave your shit everywhere, have way too many bottles of crap in the bathroom.” He stared off toward campus, scratching the back of his neck. “You’d have to share a bathroom with two guys.”

“I’ve shared one with you most of my life. Not a problem.” Inside, I screamed. My brother was gross. Most athletes were gross. But I’d weather the storm if I could live here. “Just a semester. Let me get through the season and then I’ll move.”

“Goddamn it, Lo. They will hate this.”

“Why? What would be so bad about having another roommate who happens to be your sister?”

“I don’t know. We play hard, party hard.”

“Great. I’ll buy beer for you.”

He pinched his nose so hard a red spot formed on either side. “Can I talk to them about it?”

I pulled on the end of my ponytail. “I mean, sure, but Mom’s calling me later to chat about when her and Dad are coming down for a game, and you know she’ll suggest the same solution when I tell her.”

Dean’s gaze sharpened.

I had him.

See, the thing about big Italian families was that our mother ruled the house. Her and my dad were relationship goals, but no one wanted to disappoint Celestina Fogliano Romano. Dean was a mama’s boy through and through, and if she asked him to do something, he’d do it.

Why didn’t I realize that sooner?

He gritted his teeth before nodding. “Fine. Fine. Let me talk to the guys.”

“You’re the best!” I jumped into him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Dean. You won’t even know I’m here!”

“Get off me, you smell.” He shoved me away but not with real force. “I have a good thing going with the guys, the team, so please don’t blow this for me.”

“Of course. Duh!”

“No hooking up either, you or your friends,” he said, his voice becoming stronger. “We can’t afford the distraction. Plus, you’re my sister, so, this is nonnegotiable.”

“Okay, first, ew footballers. And second, when have I ever interfered with football for you? I would never. I understand what I means to you.” My voice lowered, an odd, emotional ball in the back of my throat making an unwanted appearance. Dean had almost lost his football career because of an accident in high school. A dumb car crash where he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. It had rocked our whole family, and he’d come so far.

“I know, Lo.” He swallowed, his mouth forming half a smile. “You can hang just fine but none of your…girl nights here, okay? No team sleepovers.”

“Uh, you’re missing out. Face masks? Food? Movies? It’d actually do you well to relax a little and replenish your body’s nutrients instead of partying them away.” I shrugged. “But fine, I will listen to your demands.’

He snorted. “Give me the next week to talk to them about it.”

“But I can, for sure?”

“Probably. I need to ask them though. One semester. No bullshit.”

“You’re my favorite twin.” I grinned, opening my arms like I was gonna hug him again.

He held up a hand, shaking his head. “No more hugs. Leave my porch, and I’ll call you when you’re good to come over here.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll make sure to tell mom what a santo you are. Santo Dean.” I kissed my fingers and saluted the air. “I’ll start packing my bags!”

He rolled his eyes before returning to the house. My brother might be the face of the football team and a major player on and off the field, but he was a good guy. There hadn’t been a single time in my life I couldn’t count on him, and a wave of gratitude washed over me.

I wouldn’t be homeless or sleeping on friends’ couches during my junior year season. I’d have a place with a bed, where I could introvert all by my lonesome and relax. My grades wouldn’t drop because of stress, and I could keep my stats up.

Sure, this plan made me share a roof with Luca Monroe, but I could deal with it. I shifted plans all the time during a game, so why would life be any different? Life was about being flexible, changing course when something got in your way. You adjusted to the opponent, and right now, the opponents were Mrs. Whittaker, Luca Monroe, and everyone else in my marketing class.

I stretched for a few seconds, eyed my new home, and smiled.

Hope you’re ready for me, football boys.