Roman (Saints and Sinners, #1) by Kennedy Streath

Author:Kennedy Streath
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult, paranormal, literature and fiction, dark urban fantasy, paranormal romance, fallen angels, Occult & Supernatural, contemporary, fantasy
Publisher: PubRight
Published: 2014-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

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“H ey, earth to TJ!” Marsha circled, her movements slow and steady. “You have to concentrate, girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That’s the second time today.

“Do you need a break?”

TJ nodded, her thoughts scattered. Handing the small woman her sparring stick, she shuffled to the large credenza and the folding chairs propped against the wall.

“I’ll grab us some water bottles, okay?” The woman disappeared into the bowels of the garage and returned with the promised refreshment.

TJ apologized as she reached for the offered water bottle. “Thanks. Listen, I’m really sorry about tonight...” She was, enough to fashion a hair shirt of guilt, knowing full well that the woman had little time for herself, let alone time to train her in martial arts.

“It’s all right, kiddo.” Pulling out a chair, she sank next to TJ and took a gulp of water. “So, what’s up?”

That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question ... what was up? Her day had been filled with tiny triumphs: no major TJ bashing from the latina drama queens, a couple of girls had ventured some kind words, the gal in Phys Ed seemed interested—to the extent of calling her ‘girlfriend’—and she had a date.

A date.

That was the problem, so she blurted, “Manolo Sanchez asked me out.” No exclamation mark, no giddy giggle, no shy shudder of excitement. Even to her ears it came out flat and dismissive, in stark contrast to the yippy dance she’d done in the kitchen. She’d even hugged Ben and, judging from the look on his face, that little move had been a real showstopper.

Like everything that had happened that day, it just felt right. Up to the point where she’d watched Roman go supernova and peel down the driveway in a torrential downpour.

She’d wanted to tweak him, to get him to notice her and get off the ‘I know better’ bandwagon he, her father, Tony and every other male on the damn planet seemed determined to mount. What she didn’t want was him out on some suicide run on a motorcycle, on slick mountain roads with hairpin turns that he would take like a bat out of hell.

Marsha finished off her drink and cocked her head. “Manny asked you out?” She sounded surprised.

Did everyone know everyone in this town?

“Uh, yeah. To the movies.”

“Does Ben know?”

“Uh-huh. He said to be home by eleven.”

“Sooo,” the woman dragged it out, “is there a problem I’m not seeing?”

A problem? No, no problem whatsoever, except I made Roman furious just from Manny driving me home and me being a brat and mouthing off, telling him I have a date and—

Whoa, hold up. How would he know I have a date?

But he did, she was sure of it. The minute she’d mouthed the words, he’d shot down the stairs and taken off. Coincidence? She didn’t think so.

The urge to spill her guts to Marsha about the mysterious teen hammered her hard: riding to school with him, his waiting for her at the church, the encounter in his apartment ... the kiss. Then the brush-off.

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