The Romantic

By Samantha Joan

Amelia

Moving out on my own was hard, but pretending I'm not head over heels for my gorgeous, no-strings-attached hookup, Sebastian, is IMPOSSIBLE.

It started with dancing and a mind-blowing kiss, and it ended with my throat closing, an overnight stay at the hospital, and a new friend that I could have casual sex with. No feelings. No stress.

Except I've never felt more lonely, unsure, and unworthy of love. Protecting myself means keeping him at a distance, but he might be the only one that can help me.

Sebastian

I thought my greatest challenges would come from being a bounty hunter. It turns out that the hardest person to catch is the one I want to keep.

Amelia doesn't want to date. She can barely give me the time of day between her busy schedule as a baker and a barista. But I'll take whatever she's willing to give. Even if that means pretending our hookups are just a fun time for me too. I never lose.

When my past comes back to haunt me and our relationship is marked by insecurity, I might not be able to catch this one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha Joan
• Release date: Mar 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224489428

Book preview

The Romantic

A friends-with-benefits Romance

Samantha Joan

Copyright © 2024 by Samantha Joan

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotation in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any names, character, place, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, place, or events is purely coincidental or fictional.

Cover Design by Peacuch

Editing by Victoria S.

For all the young, aspiring authors that write in secret

and never think their work is good enough to publish.

It is.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue

1

Amelia

I gave the bouncer a toothy grin, trying to mimic the picture in my driver’s license photo. I had allowed Kaitlyn to straighten my hair. Mainly because it seemed to bring her unequivocal joy and because straight hair always made me feel sexier. The downside, besides heat damage, was that people thought I shape-shifted.

Not to sound biased, but it was primarily tall, beefy men that worked as bouncers who couldn’t tell me from my driver’s license photo. They could never wrap their head around such a drastic change. It also didn’t help that I hadn’t changed my ID photo since high school. It showed a baby-faced girl. Her cheeks round and puffy and her untamable mane of hair that took up 90% of the photo.

The burly man in front of me took a second glance up. His face read confusion, maybe some pity for the unflattering photo. I was instantly nervous, but he handed it back to me and stepping aside. My anxiety never settled, though. I shoved the ID in my back pocket, not wanting anyone else to see the travesty. I took a step forward, turning around to my two friends. Two new, bright, shiny co-workers who had recently been promoted to friends. Feeling a gust of wind, I yanked my flannel around my middle. The chill from the lingering winter months cut right through me. Kaitlyn didn’t seem to notice the breeze, though, in a tiny crop top and ripped jeans. She handed the bouncer her ID just as a raindrop plopped on my head. I looked at the sky, placing my hands on my head. Yet another downside to straightening my hair, it was easily ruined.

It was only about 9:30 pm, and the bar was mostly empty from what I could see from the sidewalk, but that meant we could get drinks easier and find a good spot to stand.

I patiently waited for Kaitlyn and Gabriel to get through the bouncers, looking over their outfits. Gabriel wore a white sweater vest and leather pants, which he told me were good going out pants because anything spilled on them would just slide right off. Just one example of why I was growing fonder and fonder of him.

Kaitlyn stepped past the bouncer standing next to me.

Can you stick my phone in your purse? Kaitlyn asked, holding it out to me, the back of it packed with a small stack of cash, her ID, and a credit card.

I opened my crossbody bag, allowing her to drop her belongings in. It fell next to the bag of antacids, on top of an old EpiPen. I zipped up the bag quickly so as not to draw attention. I also kept ChapStick, Band-Aids, tissues, and other miscellaneous items I’d gathered over the years. It was always better to be over-prepared than under-prepared.

Gabriel finally got through, and we hurried into the building out of the rain.

Gabriel did a dramatic walk and then spun on the empty dance floor. It would soon be so packed I’d have to elbow through the crowd. I checked my surroundings, taking inventory of the bathrooms in the back left corner. Three bars filled the space, one in the center, dividing the dance floor in two, one against the front wall where the bouncers were, and one on the back wall. A few people mingled around the bars, a purple hue coloring them, and color strobe lights disorienting everyone.

Let’s start with shots! Gabriel said, holding my shoulders and jumping high above my head.

He landed, popping his chest to the new song that was playing. He was barely pregamed, but his personality was energetic and similar to a dancing toddler.

I don’t know if we should start with shots, I said, following them to the bar.

Amelia, this night is for you to let loose. Gabriel chided.

I couldn’t hide my smile, which marked my surrender. I needed the reminder of why I agreed to come out. I don’t particularly like clubs. I couldn’t say I ever felt the desire to be in a crowded, hot club with dance music thumping so loud my ears ring for hours after I left a place. My preferred drinking spot was a local restaurant in my hometown where there was just me, the bartender I’d known since I was two, and my dad sipping beers with his buddies. That was also the extent of my nightlife experience. However, about two weeks ago, a terrifying realization of responsibilities and the never-ending cycle of working and sleeping overwhelmed me. I couldn’t shake the feeling like everything was passing me by while I sat alone in my apartment. It took another week to gain the courage to ask Kaitlyn to bring me out. I had enough listening to her good times. I needed to experience something. I needed to take shots and not argue.

Gabriel tipped the bartender, handing us each a shot. I stared it down, the yellow liquid running over the side. I wasn’t sure what kind of alcohol was in the clear plastic cup but before I could ask my friends tipped their heads back, dropping the contents down their throats.

What’s in it? I asked, trying to sniff it.

Grenadine, pineapple juice and vodka Gabriel responded, placing his empty shot cup on the bar.

I silently ran through the list of ingredients in my head. Grenadine could contain tree nuts, but I wasn’t allergic to them. Pineapple juice wasn’t an issue, and the vodka wasn’t usually a problem. My rule of thumb is to avoid gins, flavored liqueurs, and any dark colored liquors. And never any beer, just in case.

Saying a silent prayer, I downed my shot. My friends cheered for me. I waited for the pucker of harsh liquor, or a burn, but it tasted fruity and sweet. It tasted like heaven. It was like a shot of juice.

Kaitlyn bounced excitedly, and Gabriel continued dancing like a now drunk toddler, haphazardly moving his head and arms. I was smiling. I was enjoying myself. All my hesitations seemed to subside in the dark room.

Trying to make friends was dreadful when I was no longer in a classroom setting. Throughout my whole academic career, I just made friends without trying. I had plenty of people to talk to in school. I knew them since elementary school. I always had a full lunch table to sit with. And on the weekends, I hung out with my ex-boyfriend and his friends. Or I hung out with my dad, who was my best friend. It wasn’t until my ex and I broke up that I realized his friends weren’t my friends. All that time spent with them meant nothing in the wake of our breakup. And it wasn’t even a bad break up. He was going out of state for college, and I stayed.

I moved to the city because I thought there would be endless people to interact with. But I was learning how invisible and lonely it felt to live in a city. I was lost in the crowd.

I met Kaitlyn during the first month here. We were coworkers at the coffee shop. She introduced me to Gabriel, which rounded out the list of friends I’d made that year.

The first round of yellow shots was quickly followed by tequila shots, which were not as delightful, but allergy safe. My cheeks flushed, and the drink in my hands was merely a prop. I didn’t want to get too drunk, too fast, but the night began moving around me. In a blink, the dance floor was packed, the line to the bathroom was out by the bar, and the music seemed to get several notches louder.

I wasn’t mad about it, either.

Most of my worries relaxed in the club’s darkness, lost in the anonymity of a crowd. The shots helped too. That was it, the experience I craved. The feeling of being drunk with complete strangers, dancing horribly and sweating too much to pass as cute in the light of day. Even though I felt claustrophobic and knew my flannel had been a mistake, I was having fun.

I stopped caring who was around me. It was me and my friends in a little circle of hip-shaking and shimmying. Gabriel moved his body with rhythm and impressive fluidity. It was tantalizing, and I mimicked his movements, which he loved. I had never drunk like this with them before. I hadn’t really gotten the chance, but I yelled over the music.

We should do this more often!

Kaitlyn squealed, hugging me. I wasn’t even sure if she had heard my words. My voice didn’t reach my ears with the volume on the dance floor. She pulled me closer.

Can I have your bag? I want to buy another drink. I handed her the whole bag, turning back to Gabriel.

My dance moves mostly comprised of stepping from side to side, flipping my hair, and shimmying. Classic moves that could never do me wrong. By the time Kaitlyn had come back with I forgot she was missing. Soon after that, she turned her attention to a skinny man with a basketball jersey and a baseball cap. It seemed wrong to where two different sports apparels.  They exchanged brief words, none that I could hear, and then she reached up, flipped his hat around, and then he leaned down to kiss her. My jaw dropped as she kissed him back. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, giving her a little cheer. I wrapped the flannel around my waist, sweat dripping down my back.

I watched her in awe. She had initiated the entire encounter. I felt myself looking around, inspired to attempt something similar. I knew I didn’t have the balls to be so bold, but I could at least find a cute guy to keep me. I wouldn’t let my life pass me by.

I felt like I was in a bad movie montage with dancing, drinks, strobe lights, and a tall stranger looking at me. His eyes caught most of my attention. They were dark and magnetic and focused on me. I quickly pulled my eyes away in a panic.

Why was he looking at me?

He was a few people away, allowing for a small buffer. I tried my hardest not to look back at him, but I did. And when I looked up, he had a slightly mischievous smirk, and he raised his hand, waving his fingers at me. I refused to look behind me, so I just frowned at him. That was absolutely the wrong decision because he started walking over to me.

I was so alarmed all I could do was turn to Gabriel, who whistled at him. He whistled like this stranger was worthy of a catcall.

Not helpful.

I turned back to the guy, having to look up at him. He was so close I could smell warm dark spices coming off of him, which would perfectly describe him. I tried to step back, but Gabriel shoved me closer.

Go for it, a voice similar to Gabriel’s said in my ear.

I had to look petrified because he laughed, a bright white smile which didn’t stop him from looking like he wanted to devour me. Was this what I wanted? To be devoured? Probably not. However, I didn’t turn away from him. I found my lips nervously rubbing together.

Hi, I tried to say.

He moved closer so he could hear me. I was engulfed with his nutty cologne, which had hints of syrup.

Wanna dance? he asked, waiting by my ear for an answer.

I don’t think that line works when I am already dancing, I said truthfully.

Is that how this worked? He would ask me a lame rhetorical question as an excuse to be closer. He laughed, though, pulling back.

Touche.

He smiled again, and he seemed inviting, warm even. I wanted to be wary of him. Maybe cover my drink, but I didn’t. I smiled back and shrugged. The song changed, and I danced and bopped around, this time with him closer to me. One of his hands landed on my lower back, grooving back and forth with me. How often do guys approach women in a bar? It seemed outdated, maybe. And yet it had worked. It worked for Kaitlyn too.

I couldn’t even see where Kaitlyn went.

As we moved together, I tried not to embarrass myself. Was I dancing attractively? It all seemed like some big show. Like I was performing for his attention, and he was doing the same for me. I wanted his approval. I wanted his dark eyes to stay locked on me. I wanted his hands to stay on my waist, and I wanted to kiss him. His lips were a a deep mauve color that matched his olive skin. A small bit of sweat covered his forehead, and his slicked-back hair was coming undone, and he looked delicious. It was all I could think about. The music disappeared and all I could hear was my subconscious saying do it, just do it.

High on my ego, I stayed locked into him, waiting for the perfect moment to kiss him. This gorgeous guy wanted to dance with me. He approached me, held my hips, swayed close to me, and that was probably the most attractive thing about it. When he leaned down, dancing closer to my face, I reached up, touching his cheek. He smirked back. As if possessed, I pressed my lips to his. His hands latched around my waist, and he kissed back, moving his lips slowly against mine. He tasted like toothpaste and dark liquor. I rested my hands on his bicep, eating him up.

He invaded all my senses, his hands in my hair and then running down to my ass. He squeezed my ass and pulled my hips against his. He would be great in bed, I thought. He opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, and everyone disappeared.

We were in a haze of kissing and dancing with a side of heavy petting. His arms felt strong and secure around my body, but his lips were soft and methodical, moving against mine. The perfect combination that made me feel tingly all over. Our kiss was dizzying, and I gasped for air. He left me breathless.

No.

I really couldn’t breathe.

The inside of my mouth was itchy, and my throat was constricting. I pulled out of his grasp, shoving my hand against his chest. I grabbed my throat. Not right now. Not fucking now. I tried a few more breaths, not getting enough air in and wheezing. I grabbed his arm for support to alert him that my throat was closing from the cross-contamination of peanuts. A feeling I hadn’t felt in six years. The feeling of going into anaphylactic shock.

Where the fuck was my EpiPen?

2

Sebastian

Panic filled my chest. At first, I thought I had done something wrong, but the more I looked at her terrified face, watching her claw at her throat, I could see she was having a medical emergency. She opened her mouth, trying to breathe. But she couldn’t. What the fuck had I done? She had her flannel around her waist, but nothing else. Her pants were far too tight to be carrying any kind of EpiPen.

She couldn’t even speak, her words getting lost in her collapsing throat. Her lips were puffy, red with irritation, and looking bruised, or possibly blue. She needed a fucking ambulance or a hospital. I glanced around, completely surrounded by people. I couldn’t even find a bouncer in the crowd. I glanced back down at her. Her chest started to become spotted with hives, her face blotchy, and her lips turned blue from lack of oxygen. I needed to get her out of the crowd and to a hospital before it was too late.

I looked at the only person I knew could help. His buzzed head stood out above the crowd, and he wore a frown, completely ignoring the girl in front of him. He got up, pushing through the crowd. I gripped the girl by her waist, picking her up under her ass, so she leaned on my shoulder. She was still holding her throat, but Finn could at least see the emergency. He started spreading the crowd, his long arms shoving people out of the way. A small path cleared, and I ran through it, heading for the door.

I couldn’t even see straight as I sprinted out of the club, feeling Finn’s hand on my back. My feet splashed through puddles as I ran. It wasn’t raining now, but it looked like it poured. The damp air prevented relief from the hot club.

The hospital is two blocks from here, Finn said, turning to yell something at the bouncer, Lenny.

I dropped my head, moving as fast as my feet could carry me, cradling the girl in my arms. Finn easily caught up to me, running silently by my side, guiding me through traffic. And when I saw the big red letters of the emergency department, we somehow found more speed.

The poor girl bobbled in my arms, but I had her so tight to my chest she wasn’t going anywhere.

Help! Finn shouted as soon as we got to the ambulance door entrance.

Help! he shouted again, catching the attention of a security guard and a nurse.

What’s the matter? the nurse said, hurrying to meet us.

I finally found my voice.

She’s having an allergic reaction.

I was breathing heavily, panting. I still held her close to my chest and instinctually tightened my grip when they tried to take her from me. Someone else brought a stretcher, and I placed her on it, seeing a red ring around her mouth, sweat covering her face, and faint wheezing coughs coming out.

I need an EpiPen! the nurse hollered.

It took far too many seconds for another girl to rush up with a thick needle, jamming it into her thigh. Then they whisked her away, running full speed behind a curtain. Finn and I both collapsed over our knees. Panting, I looked over at him. I was still panicking. I couldn’t wrap my head around the last few minutes. Was it wrong to say I thought she was a good kisser? That was probably inappropriate right now.

Finn and I caught our breath, stepping into the waiting room. The fluorescent lighting hurt my eyes after being in the flashing lights all evening and then running outside. My ears rang, and it was a comforting sound. I couldn’t hear my heart beating against my chest in fear. Finn rubbed a hand over his buzzed hair, looking as if we had just stopped a disaster. I wasn’t so sure we were in the clear yet, though. She still had to recover. I had basically kidnapped her from a club, telling none of her friends. The night was still young and not in a good way.

I placed my hand on the top of Finn’s head.

Thank you, I said, leaning back in the chair, calming my breathing.

The news channel hummed in the hospital’s lobby. We were surrounded by people. A kid with his arm clutched at his chest. An older man held a paper towel to his head while his wife nagged him to get on a ladder. A drunk man sat in the lobby’s corner, reeking of liquor. A few sick-looking people sat sparsely throughout the waiting room. Finn crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling his nose. It could have been the alcoholic or the not-too-subtle scent of cleaners and the sick. Everything seemed dirty and disgusting. I hated hospitals. But I hated waiting more. After such a rush, sitting still was a form of torture. I wanted to be doing more.

I stretched my fingers out, watching them tremble, before fisting them beside me.

Boys! An older nurse came out. She wore unflattering navy scrubs. Her face was wrinkled with years of experience. Finn and I looked up at her, hesitant to stand.

Come back and answer a few questions.

We both stood, but Finn patted me on the back. Go ahead. I’ll be here if you need me.

Finn sat back down, leaving me to face this alone. The nurse walked back through a heavy door, her feet scurrying. I nearly jogged, trying to keep up with her walking pace. We passed a few occupied beds, a nurse’s station, and unoccupied beds. Finally, we came to a little space separated by a half-circle curtain. The girl I had been kissing lay exhausted in a hospital bed. She blinked her eyes, answering a few questions from the doctor.

Another woman had a small computer standing outside the room. Let me ask you a few questions, Sir.

I glanced at the woman, but my attention was drawn back to the girl in the hospital bed. My stomach lurched with guilt. She looked a little better. She wasn’t gasping for air anymore.

What’s your relationship with the patient?

I searched my brain for a reasonable answer.

A friend, I decided.

Okay, do you have her purse. She said a friend had it.

I didn’t have her bag. Nor did I have a clue what her name was or what she was allergic to. I thought she said her name was Mila, but it was loud, and it wasn’t important at the time. Why weren’t they asking her these questions? She looked like she would knock out any second from the slim view I had of her.

Sir, the woman said impatiently.

I don’t know! I barked back.

I wasn’t angry with her. Just myself.

The nurse groaned. See if you can locate her ID She held the curtain open for me.

I stepped into the room, as another few nurses surrounded the girl. I cleared my throat, catching their attention.

Can you see if she has her ID? I asked the nurses, but locked eyes with her. She pulled something out of her back pocket, holding it out to me.

I have to call my dad her voice was ground against sandpaper. I pulled my phone out handing it to her. I was all she had right now, and that was intimidating.

I walked back out, staring at her ID. It read Amelia Grace Conte. Address 180 Melrose Place Apt 12. I didn’t want to read on, feeling like it was an invasion of privacy, but the woman tapped her foot with further impatience. I began reading the information from the card, spelling her first and last name and her address.

Her birthday is September 27th. Brown hair, brown eyes, 5’6, weighs 140 pounds. I flipped the card. No corrective lenses, and she’s an organ donor."

I looked up to see the woman, even more furious than before.

Do you even know her? The nurse asked, but honestly.

I sighed. What do you want to hear here? I’m trying my best. I rubbed my eyes in frustration.

A tall middle eastern man walked out, dressed in a long white coat, with a vague smile.

Why don’t you get this information from her in a little bit? he instructed the woman, shooing her away with ease. He could see my frustration, but just spoke in a calm voice.

I’m Dr. Khan, the man introduced himself, shaking my hand. Amelia looks good. The EpiPen worked. We are giving her fluids and intravenous antihistamines to reduce the inflammation. Our respiratory therapist will monitor her airway for the next few hours. He spoke fast with a vague accent. His words weren’t really registering, but I nodded anyway. May I ask what happened?

Still trying to wrap my head around that, I said, more to myself. We were in a club a few blocks away. We were dancing, and we kissed. Then she stopped breathing.

It was embarrassing to admit.

Amelia has a severe allergy to peanuts. Did you ingest any peanut products in the last several hours?

I covered my mouth, wiping down my lips. I had peanut sauce for dinner.

I wanted to blame Malik, my roommate, for purchasing choosing Chinese food, but all the blame was on me. I was the one that kissed her, not Malik. It was my fault she stopped breathing.

Dr. Khan must have read my guilty face because he patted me on the shoulder.

You did everything right. You got her medical attention promptly, and you saved her.

I was not so convinced about that. I felt like I did nothing right. Not one thing felt like it went right tonight. I shouldn’t have kissed her or kissed her back. Or maybe I should have asked about her allergies. Was that common courtesy to ask about severe allergies before kissing someone? If she was too drunk to remember her allergy, she was too drunk to be kissing?

Dr. Khan didn’t miss a beat.