Page 10 of My Rose

“I’d take that silver spoon out of your mouth for you, but I think you swallowed it on all those dicks you’ve been sucking.” Our friendship was forced from the beginning, but if Dean wanted me to go with her to a party to keep her safe, then that’s what I was going to do. And that wasallI was going to do when it came to her.

“So bitter,” she choked out, putting her hand around her throat as she turned back to me with her mouth popped open, her tongue and hand working in unison to thrust an imaginary dick into her mouth. “Are you going to make us leave early, too?”

“Yep.” She groaned more at my reply. “You get three hours, tops. If anyone tries to take you home, you tell me. Got it?”

“What if we’re already at his home?” She wiggled her drawn-on eyebrows at me. There wasn’t much that wasn’t fake about Clarissa.

“I don’t think his dick grew since you last fucked him.” Not since the night when she convinced me to host a party after I turnedseventeen where she ended up riding August in one of the guest bedrooms. I’d lied to Dean about why we broke up. He never heard from me that his daughter couldn’t keep her legs closed, but I was pretty sure he figured it out over time.

“No, but alcohol, and—”

I held my hands up. “I can’t babysit you at every party.” It was a lie, we both knew I’d be able to keep her safe, even if a big part of me wanted her to get a taste of what she put me through. But I couldn’t do that to Dean.

“Why’d you come, then?” She raised one brow as we walked up the steps to August’s front porch, music blasting through the front door and vibrating the two windows next to it. His house wasn’t necessarily small, otherwise Clarissa would have had little to no interest in him. He was upper-middle class in a small town, so his home was essentially a miniature version of my main estate.

My jaw tightened as Rose walked by the front window, wearing a tight red dress that hugged every natural, petite curve as she made her way over to August and his friends. I didn’t notice the silence stretching on between us as she stared at me with a fascinated look. “Because Dean asked me to,” I finally answered.

Clarissa followed my gaze and I snapped my eyes back to the door. “Right. Because my dad wanted you to, huh? Just doing as you’re told, like usual?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Yep.” I put my hand on the doorknob.

“You know, we could just skip the party and go back to your place.” She leaned in closer, and whispered, “You can imagine I’msomeone else, if you want.” She reached for my forearm and I pushed the door open to avoid her touch.

My eyes narrowed on her. “Three hours, Clarissa. If you’re not ready to leave by then, I’ll have no choice but to tell your dad you decided to hang back to fuck every guy here. Got it?”

She stomped her heel on the porch. “You wouldn’t.”

I tapped my palm on the door. “Three hours, that’s all you get.”

Two hours went by. Two hours of drinking shit beer from Jim’s Stuff, tapping the keg a few times to find it was the same beer that was in the bottles and didn’t taste any better coming from a keg. Not many people recognized me, so it was easy to fade into the background for a while in the grassy space behind the pool until I needed more alcohol in my system to pass the time. One more hour, and I’d be able to take Clarissa back to her house and Dean would get off my back.

Thanks to the windows that filled the walls from floor to ceiling along the back, Clarissa hadn’t left my sight long enough for me to lose where she was in the house. But there were several times my tracking moved on to Rose, who hadn’t seemed to notice me beyond the curt nod she gave me when I walked in—when her cheeks blushed over, matching the red hue of her dress, her light blue eyes standing out against her dark hair that curled in long waves down her back.

And I’d left her my number right after she unintentionally showed a bit too much skin. However, that wasn’t what made me do it. There was a look she gave me shortly after she fumbled for her zipper—a brief moment when her eyes had said more than any other person’s ever had. I watched her go from eye-fucking me to becoming near-panicked. Guilt twisted in my gut just thinking about that look and how fast it moved from empathy to fear. As much as I couldn’t stop glancing at her slight curves, wondering what she’d feel like in my palms as I guided her hips on top of me, that guilt was still there.

Inescapable and damning.

I snapped my eyes to where Rose was before—next to August at the billiards table outside—but she’d vanished. Probably rushed off to the bathroom to avoid being ogled by more than just me as I hid in the shadows. So instead, I watched August and took another long sip of my beer as he quite loudly talked to his friends about which girl he planned to take to his room after the party.

I didn’t even notice my feet crunching in the cold, dying grass when I heard ‘Rose’ leave his lips in the same sentence as ‘bedroom’ and ‘fucking wants it.’ All I saw was red, like her dress.

“Briggs, didn’t notice you were here. Good to see you, man.” August straightened and closed the gap between us, his hand extended and trembling slightly as I glared down at him.

I didn’t put my hand out. “August. Always a pleasure.” It was never a pleasure seeing his thin face, much less hearing words come from his mouth that were vulgar enough to make me want to toss him into the pool behind me.

He swiped his rejected hand through his greasy hair, looking back at his friends, a faint chuckle weaseling its way through his mouth. “I’ve got a game going. Care to join?” He tossed his thumb over his shoulder like I couldn’t see the set table behind him, his skinny, little throat bobbing as he waited for my answer.

I should’ve declined, but instead, I felt the cockiest grin spread across my face. If I couldn’t beat him physically into the pool, then I could kick his ass in a game and humiliate him while I waited another hour. I didn’t bother acknowledging him by speaking as I walked over to the edge and grabbed a cue stick from the rack along the wall.

“Cool. Alright. Should we flip to see who goes first?” August reached into his pocket, pulling out a quarter from his tight jeans.

“Doesn’t matter who starts, I’ll always win.” I winked back at him, turning my hatred into a competition. Just as August pocketed the coin and took up position to go first, Rose walked back out onto the deck. August tossed his head over his shoulder and let out a low whistle, eyeing her curves in a way that made blood rush into my ears.

“You wanna take the first shot, Rosie?” August moved away from the table, letting Rose step in front of him. Her eyes met mine for a second, her cheeks flushing against the cold as she rubbed her arms. Again, she wasn’t dressed appropriately for the weather, but my agitation fixed on him—he hadn’t offered her the jacket on his shoulders, or if he did, she hadn’t taken it. I chose to believe the latter to resist the urge to toss him in the pool yet again.

“I don’t know how to play, you know that.” She eased up against the table, pushing her lower stomach into it. August came up behindher and positioned his noodle-like arms on either side of her, caging her body with his.

“I can help with that.” He leaned into Rose and shifted her hair to the side. She glanced at me again before he continued, “I just need you to blow on my balls first.”

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