Page 21 of My Rose

Chapter 9

Rose

“A sure friend is known in unsure circumstances.” ? Quintus Ennius

Warmth evaded my body. The huge bonfire in front of me, along with August’s arm around my shoulder, should have kept me warm. He’d even lent me a jacket this time. I shrugged deeper into it, trying to get warm and missing the smell of citrus as the scent of cigarettes filled my throat in all the wrong ways.

August’s finger tapped my shoulder. “Thanks for coming, Ro. I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah. Same.” I fought the urge to lace my words with all the sarcasm possible because August was finally holding me in a way that others might assume we were something more. I reached up to hook my finger on his…and felt nothing—no warmth, no heat between my thighs. Even my chest felt cold, and I felt awkward and more out of place than I usually did around him and at these stupid parties I kept going to.

“Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird lately and barely talk to me.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I—” I shouldn’t have felt the need to apologize for something that wasn’t even my fault. Didn’t I try to see him and he turned me down?

“You…what?” His finger squeezed mine as I remained silent, holding back on what I really wanted to say. It wouldn’t do me any good, anyway. “I guess some alone time is good for us both, Rosie. Really, don’t feel so bad. It’s made me realize a few—” One of August’s friends ran up and ended whatever nonsense was going to spew from his mouth this time. He removed his arm immediately and reached for his guitar, not that the bonfire party around us needed any more noise added to the mix.When had I started disliking hearing him play?

The strings rang out, cutting through the conversation of the people around us, and I hid the cringe, the recoiling of my shoulders as he started to sing along. His voice was normally soothing, metaphorically melting my panties from my body at times. Butbeyond not liking his voice, I was perfectly fine with how our conversation had ended. I stood up, searching for one of the coolers his friends brought along, needing more beer before listening to his lack of musical talent. The bottle of whiskey I pulled from the cooler had a quarter left, the warm amber color reflecting the firelight behind me.

Fuck the beer.

I needed something to take my mind off whatever had just happened between us, the strings blaring in my ears, and that voice—what the hell was he even singing about? The whiskey bottle was emptied faster than I could find my spot on the log again. The second my ass hit the wood, a jaw-dropping redhead with the most perfect shape under her tight jeans and coat came rushing by. Clarissa jumped into August’s lap, effectively kicking the bottle away from my mouth as I scavenged for the remaining drops at the bottom.

Bitch.

I was more jealous of the dirt as the last few drops of whiskey fell to the ground than I was of the girl sitting next to me. She may have been beautiful, but August wouldn’t last long with her. He moved on too quickly.

But then another thought struck me. I set the bottle down and my eyes trailed beyond the trees and a roaring fire that still made me anxious if I stared at it too long. A set of headlights beamed in the distance, where a shadowy, broad figure stood. I was probably smiling more than I should have been, but no one was paying any attention to me. No one besides the babysitter standing over by his car, whose gaze was unmistakably set on me.

Just. Me.

I pulled another bottle from the cooler, this one at least half-full of whiskey, and made my way casually toward Briggs, who didn’t appear to have any intention of joining the bonfire party. I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t like August’s voice was going to pull him in to join the rest of us. Well, the rest ofthem.Even with the time August spent focusing on me, I still didn’t feel like I should’ve been there.

“Hey.” I stepped closer to him until I could see the fire dancing at the edges of his green eyes. “You want some?” I lifted the bottle toward him, a smile still stuck to my face as I took another step closer.

“Don’t do that.” I winced back, liquor sloshing in the bottle. I was a bit unsteady on my feet, the whiskey quickly warming its way through my limbs. Or maybe that was Briggs. It couldn’t be him.I don’t know him enough to feel—

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Do, what, exactly?” I folded my arms and a whiff of lingering cigarette smoke along the cotton jacket made me choke on my breath.

“You hide your teeth when you smile. You shouldn’t.”Oh?

“And why shouldn’t I?” I took another step, now understanding he wasn’t denying drinking with me or getting physically close to him. He took the bottle and downed a few long sips as if he needed the liquid encouragement. Or he was thirsty, and not in the way my mind jumped to back at Jim’s store.

His eyes drank me in slowly behind the bottle until he ripped it from his mouth and pushed it into my jacket, his knuckle grazing down one of the strings as his fingers lingered right above my chest. His eyes narrowed as I wrapped my fingers around the glass. WhenI looked up at him, his features had turned hard. “Whose jacket are you wearing?”

“Why are you answering my question with a question?”

“Whose jacket is that?” His authoritative tone made its way back at full force. It wasn’t a question this time. “Rose.”

I sighed audibly. “August’s. Why can’t I hide my—” I hadn’t even noticed that’s what I was doing, but I was admitting the fault of the gesture by asking him why I couldn’t. Was I hiding the gap in my teeth? Was it that obvious, like watching August the other night had been? Maybe I wasn’t the best at hiding things. Not from Briggs, at least.

“Your teeth. They’re perfect. But every time you smile, you pull your lips d—”

I was smiling again, and hadn’t noticed I pushed my lips closed over my teeth until they were fully hidden, making my smile flat. He groaned deeply, then yanked the bottle from my hands again and took another few sips. He thought my smile was…perfect? He did say perfect, right?

The idea sent a flutter throughout my stomach like something I hadn’t felt since I first laid eyes on August. Because before August even spoke to me, I’d been smitten. Maybe that was wrong of me, falling for someone based on their image alone. But ever since I’d gotten to know him, those flutters had lessened to next to nothing. I’d forgotten how intense that feeling could be.

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