Kissed by a Rose: A Dead Roses Novel

by Workman, RaShelle

  I push him toward the door. “Out.”

  Evan lifts an eyebrow, daring me to challenge him. “You gonna break your hand on my face again, cousin?”

  “If I have to,” I say, thinking about the last time we fought.

  It was in the ring, right after my dad died. Sure, I broke my hand, but I also broke his nose. He may have two championship trophies, but I have three.

  “Leave.”

  Evan smirks. “I don’t think so. This is too much fun.” He takes a pull on his beer.

  I swear silently and try another tactic. “Look, man. I want to be alone with her, all right.” I smile, letting him believe I have less than honorable intentions. “We have a lot of catching up to do, if you know what I mean.”

  He smacks me on the arm. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” He peeks around my shoulder. “She’s hot. Mind if I have a turn when you’re through?”

  It takes every ounce of self-discipline I own not to haul off and punch him. But I want him gone. “We’ll see,” I respond.

  He ruffles my hair. “Have fun, little bro. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I snort and smack his hand away. “Oh, I’m sure I will.” I walk him to the front door.

  When it’s closed, I lock it, breathing deeply, convincing myself I need to relax.

  I can’t help but smile though. Since my father died, he’s treated me more like a brother than a cousin. But Evan’s got no respect for women—for anyone, really. Most times I go along with Evan’s shenanigans, but when it comes to Rosie, I won’t budge even a little bit. With her, it’s different. It always has been.

  I’m about to walk into my room when I hear shouting coming from outside. I want to ignore it and I decide to when something slams against my door.

  “Evan,” I grumble and pull open the door.

  Some guy I’ve seen before but don’t know is crumpled on the ground.

  “Get up.” I kick him slightly.

  He groans, but he isn’t going anywhere. He’s out cold.

  Evan is at the bottom of the stairs. A couple of guys stand in front of him. One of the guys says, “Manny wants his money yesterday.”

  “I’ll have it tomorrow. I told him that when I saw him earlier today.” Evan lights up another cigarette and blows it into the guy’s face.

  “Sure. Of course. But Manny wanted us to stop by and make sure you understand he’s serious. If he doesn’t get the money tomorrow, he’s going to your father. And we both know you don’t want that.”

  Evan clears his throat. “You’ll get the money.”

  I know my cousin is into some shady stuff, but he’s obviously gone way over his head. And my uncle? What did he know about it? I doubt he’d be involved, but the guy makes it seem like he is.

  The guy not talking to Evan walks over to the stairs and looks up at me, giving me his full attention. “Whatchu looking at, punk? Get back inside and mind your business.”

  I’m half tempted to listen. Turn around and disappear inside my apartment. Evan got himself into trouble, he should be the one to get himself out. But that isn’t in me. I can’t leave him alone to deal with these guys. “Why don’t you and your friend do us all a favor and get out of here?”

  The guy smiles, a vile grin that shows off his gold front teeth. “How about I break your hands first, piano boy?”

  I glance down at Evan. The guy has me at a disadvantage. He knows who I am.

  “I can’t believe he’s part of your family,” Golden-Teeth says to Evan. “Your uncle must be so proud.”

  The guy snorts. “What a pansy.”

  Evan chuckles, giving me a barely there nod. It’s his non-verbal way of telling me to stay chill.

  I’m not feeling that though. It’s time to kick the guy’s teeth in. “Why don’t you say that to my face,” I say, heading down the stairs.

  Golden-Teeth rolls his eyes. “Pans—”

  Before he finishes, I send my fist into the guy’s jaw. I’ll show him who’s the pansy.

  12

  We Made a Pact

  Rosie

  I’m not sure how we get to his room. My vision is blurry. I think four Jell-O shots were four too many. My stomach is in knots, rebelling against the sugar and the alcohol swimming inside. A moan escapes my throat.

  “How you feeling?”

  My head snaps in his direction. “Cole,” I whisper.

  The room spins, and he helps me sit up.

  “Give me your feet, I’ll help you with your shoes.” His voice is tender. Smooth, like chinchilla fur, and I think about stroking him.

  Instead I focus. He wants to help me take off my shoes. My feet are screaming yes! They are killing me. There are probably a thousand blisters.

  “Please.” I lay down.

  The pillow smells like him. It’s earthy, manly, with a hint of vanilla. I take a deep breath through my nose.

  He unhooks my shoes, slips them off. “These are deadly.” He chuckles.

  “They’re Gina’s.” I close my eyes, but the blackness spins faster. “Whoa.”

  “Hang on.”

  I hear him move away, and I miss him. Water runs in the background. He returns quickly.

  My eyes peel open. “You’re back.”

  My hands find his arms. He helps me up.

  “Take these.” He hands me a plastic cup and two white pills.

  “What are they?” I try to gauge his facial expressions. “You aren’t trying to drug me, are you?”

  He kneels so I can see his face without looking up. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  I focus on his eyes and sigh. They’re such a strange shade of blue. Like the way ice looks at sunset.

  “Why don’t you know who I am?” I slide off the bed, onto his knees.

  He catches me, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me against him. My dress is around my waist, but I can’t make myself care to fix it. His body feels so good, and I promise myself that I’ll stay here forever.

  Cole shakes his head. There’s something in his expression. Like he’s trying to make a decision. His movement spins my head on a merry-go-round.

  “It’s been too long.” He pushes some hair off my shoulder, sending tingles along my skin. His hands are so gentle, and I can’t help but imagine them everywhere. Against my hip, dragging along my thighs.

  I shudder. “Cole.” I close my eyes, tilting my face toward his. “Kiss me. I’ve waited so long.”

  He inhales. Touches my lips with his fingers. “When I kiss you, I want you to remember it.”

  “My first,” I say and giggle. “You’ll be my first. We made a pact.”

  He lifts me onto the bed. I feel a blanket cover me, and I want to be sad. I’m no longer in his arms. But I can’t keep my eyes open. Too tired to be mad at myself.

  * * *

  Cole

  My heart’s pounding, and I’m at a loss. Rosie is here, in my bed. Her hair lies across her face like a silk scarf. Her hands are tucked under her cheek. She mentioned the pact we made. A long time ago. When we barely understood what we were promising each other.

  “Why is my dad so mean?” I wipe angry tears off my face. Stare up at my boring white ceiling. Watch the light flicker. The bulb’s been about to die for weeks.

  Rosie shuts my window and plops next to me on my bed. “I watched him leave. He seemed…um, grouchy.”

  I snort. Rub my jaw in the spot where my dad hit me. “That’s an understatement.” But that’s Rosie. Always kind. Always tries to see the best in people. Including me.

  She pats my stomach, and I tingle. Rosie has a way of making me feel better, no matter what’s happening. “I’m sorry, Cole.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I shrug. Push the pillow behind my head into a ball and lean against it. “But what can I do?”

  She rifles around in her bag, pulls out an ice pack, and hands it to me.

  I’m sure shock is the expression plastered across my face. How does she always know exactly what I need? I
press the cool pack against my jaw, and sigh. It feels good. “Thanks.”

  “Wanna listen to my new CD?”

  I smile. Because despite my jerk-of-a-father, being around Rosie makes it impossible to be sad. “If it’s a song about bringing sexy back, Freckles, I swear I’ll snap it in half.” I laugh, and she smacks me on the arm with the case.

  “Rude! I guess I’ll put it away.” She goes to stuff it back in her bag, and I grab it from her hands.

  “The Fray?” I ask, looking at it while holding it above her head so she can’t reach it.

  “Give it back.” She giggles. One of my favorite sounds.

  I stand on the bed, holding the CD out of her reach. She stands too. Tries to get it back. Her hands pulling on my arm as we jump. She trips in the covers and falls into me. We both go down, and she ends up on top of me. Our faces are inches apart.

  “Give it,” she says again, her voice quiet.

  I can feel her heart beating rapidly against my chest.

  “Kiss me first,” I say.

  Her gaze takes in my lips. Focuses on my eyes. I’m mesmerized by the way her features change so I can almost always tell what she’s thinking. Like right now she’s thoughtful. And as excited about what’s happening between us as I am.

  “Like on the mouth?” she asks. A finger absently strokes her bottom lip.

  I grab the finger and kiss it. “Yeah.”

  It seems like a perfectly natural thing. She’s my best friend. The person I care about most in this world. Kissing her would be incredible. I know it.

  Her eyes find my lips again. “Um,” she says, climbing off me and the bed.

  I sit up, waiting for her response. Hand her the CD. She walks to the player, puts the disc in. Turns up the volume. When she turns back, she’s smiling.

  “I—okay,” she says, tucking her hands in her back pockets.

  “Let’s make a pact.”

  Music from the speakers fills the room. Rosie sits next to me. “What? Like a kissing pact?”

  Love is an emotion I’m not familiar with, but as I watch Rosie’s eyes, the way her cheeks scrunch when she smiles, I think that’s what I feel for her. But I’d never tell her that. It’s uncool. Unmanly.

  “Kissing.” I pause, considering how I want to say what I want to say. “Everything. We’ll be each other’s first. At it all. We can practice, get really good. You know, for when we’re older.”

  She squashes her eyes shut, then nods. “Okay.”

  “Repeat after me.” Rosie opens her eyes. Smiles. “Ready?”

  She nods.

  “I, Rosie Hansen, swear to save all my firsts for Cole Morrison. Including, but not limited to…” I trail off, waiting for her to copy my words.

  “I, Rosie Hansen, swear to save all my firsts for Cole Morrison.” My breath hitches when she says my name.

  She’s beautiful.

  Rosie continues, “Including, but not limited to.”

  She blushes, and the shriveled mess that is my heart swells.

  “Kissing. Hickeys. Uh, whatever else we can think of,” I say.

  “Cole, don’t be a perv.”

  “I’m not being pervy, just trying to cover all the bases,” I say, realizing I really want to cover all the base, with her and no one else.

  Rosie is the best person I’ve ever known. More than beautiful, she’s kind and fun and sweet.

  “Fine.” She shakes her head. “Kissing. Hickeys. And whatever else we can think of.” She repeats. “Is that it?”

  “Sex, for sure.”

  Her face gets even redder. “Holy crap, Cole. You think about this stuff?”

  “Say it.” My body is warm, and so, so hoping she’ll agree. Never in all my eleven years have I ever felt so much for one person.

  “Sex.” Rosie covers her face with her hands. From behind her hands she clears her throat. “Repeat after me.” She peeks around her fingers. “I, Cole Morrison, do swear never to tell anyone about this pact.” She smacks my thigh, and I grab her hand in mine.

  “I, Cole Morrison, swear never to tell anyone about this pact.”

  She nods. Then surprises me. “When should we start practicing?”

  My heart is racing. A thickness surges in the back of my throat. “Saturday night?”

  “Okay. Just kissing though.” She smiles, her huge, dazzling smile. “Brace-face.”

  I swallow, squeeze her hand lightly. “Freckles.”

  “Frizz Head.” She smacks me in the arm.

  “Fish Lips.”

  “Hey,” she says, and laughs.

  “I’m teasing. You have the most beautiful lips…” I trail off, my eyes focused on them. I want to kiss her now. Right this second.

  As I watch her sleep, the feelings I had for her at the age of eleven bubble to the surface. They’re stronger now. They’ve obviously grown into something deeper, something that could be forever. It surprises me because I’d decided I would be cruel, flippant, and treat her the way I thought she’d treated me when she stopped talking to me. But all I want now is to kiss her.

  We never got the chance to practice. Her parents were killed a couple of days later, and she was gone.

  Regret momentarily bruises my chest. I didn’t keep my promises. But I know there’s no sense dwelling on it. I can’t change the past any more than I can fix it.

  I pull off my pants, slip off my shirt, and slide into bed beside her. She rolls over, facing me. Still fast asleep. I can’t help but study her, the angle of her jaw and the arch in her brows. Her long lashes. Even with smeared makeup, she’s so beautiful. One of her hands reaches out. I take it and wrap it in mine. Kiss each fingertip.

  “Rosie. Can you hear me?”

  She nods slightly.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. Please let me be a part of your life.”

  She sighs, and I can’t help it. I rub my thumb against her lips. Stroke her jaw, brush the hair off her face. The urge to kiss her is almost unbearable. But I resist. Not yet.

  I let my head fall against the pillow and close my eyes. Allow myself to relax. It dawns on me I’m content. Happy. With that knowledge comes apprehension. In my life contentment equals change. And that usually isn’t good.

  * * *

  Rosie

  I wake abruptly, my head pounding. Open my eyes and push back a scream.

  Where am I?

  There’s pressure across my middle, and I look down. Even in the dark I can make out an arm. A guy’s arm. It’s resting across my stomach. I turn my head ever so slightly and see him.

  It’s Cole. He’s lying on his stomach. Half his face buried in a pillow. Nervous dread swallows me whole.

  What have I done?

  Carefully, so carefully, I try to scoot out from under his arm. I can’t be here. I can’t. I can’t. But I have no idea where here is. I don’t remember leaving the party. Did we walk? Drive?

  Everything after the fourth Jell-O shot is wiped. Panic sets in. Did we do it?

  Please, no.

  And, Gina! I ditched her again. She probably thinks I’m the worst friend. She wouldn’t be wrong. Sick horror fills my throat.

  I scoot further away.

  His hand tightens around my waist. “Don’t go,” Cole mumbles.

  “I-How did I get here?”

  His eyes open and he lifts up onto his forearms. My eyes take hold of his defined arm muscles and the rumpled waves in his hair. His features are soft from just waking and I see the boy I love in his features.

  Oh my.

  He seems to notice where his hand is and grips my waist tighter, pulling me closer. “Nothing happened,” he says, probably reading the terrified look on my face.

  “Okay.” I shouldn’t, but I believe him. My first time is definitely something I want to remember. My heart is beating so fast I fear it’ll burst through my chest, my skin, and reveal all my secrets.

  His face shifts nearer to mine. I almost reach up and trace his jaw line, his nose, and those lips. Run my fingers
through his untamed hair, down the muscles on his back, his arms, and his chest, but I hold back.

  “You asked me to kiss you.” He’s close, so close I can almost taste him.

  My face gets hot as the sun. I’m afraid I’ll burn him with my humiliation. “I’m sorry.” I peer at him. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “I can do it now if you’d like.” His voice is gruff, coursing with the desire I feel but can’t show.

  My heart is bleeding, tearing itself into pieces. I want him to kiss me. I do. More than anything. But if we were to go there, then what?

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, looking away.

  Cole blows out a frustrated breath and climbs out of bed. I can’t help but notice he’s in nothing but boxer-briefs. They hug his legs, his butt in all the right places. He picks up a shirt and tugs it over his head. His body fascinates me, the way his back muscles tense when he moves.

  “You should be more careful. If you’re going to go to a party, there are rules, like don’t have more than one shot and one regular drink, especially since you’re obviously such a lightweight.” He drags on his pants.

  My eyes follow his movements, but I keep quiet, too shocked that he’s scolding me to say anything in response.

  He goes on, “And for goodness sake, never, ever leave a party by yourself with someone you don’t know. I could’ve been an axe murderer.” He shoots me a glare, his jaw tensing.

  I want to say that I know him or knew him, but whatever. I’m going along with the stupid game he’s playing.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t take advantage of you.” He runs his hands through his hair, goes over to his dresser and picks up his phone.

  I’m stupefied again. Watching him move is like hearing a heartbreaking melody. He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

  I swallow. His words have me boiling with shame. He’s right. Every word he said is almost the exact lecture I received from my aunt when she dropped me off a week ago. But what he’s too dense to see is that I already know him. I already love him. We made each other promises.