The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  I stepped off the elevator to my dad’s tired face.

  “Hungry, kiddo?” He put an arm around my shoulders.

  “No, I want to go to bed.”

  “Okay. How’s our girl doing?”

  “Giselle’s mom is dating an Internet pervert. He’s an actual ped. Do you think we’re cursed, Dad?”

  “I’m starting to wonder.” His response floored me. My dad was a man of science, but even he was starting to become concerned about our little town. “I spoke to the security and the doctors. They’re on high alert now.”

  “Maybe you should call them and tell them her new stepdad shouldn’t be allowed in there either.”

  “I think so.” He linked his arm in mine to take me back to the car.

  The drive home the next day was not nearly as painful. I napped until I woke to the ping of a text on my phone. I grabbed the phone out of my pocket to see a message from Shane.

  Hurry home. I’m getting lonely.

  I peered around at the gas station, seeing we were halfway home. My dad was inside paying for the gas and no doubt getting snacks.

  I messaged him back: Giselle is sick, very sick.

  My phone rang. “Hello.”

  Shane sounded concerned. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s dying. Liver failure or kidney. I can’t tell. Shane, I can’t take it.”

  “Oh my God. What can we do?”

  “She needs a kidney donor for sure—oh, and if her mom comes back to our town, we need that guy she’s dating gone. Like warn the cops and shit. He’s a pedo. He touched Giselle high up on the thigh and said he always wanted a stepdaughter.”

  “Are you kidding? Okay, I will talk to them. That’s sick. She is on her deathbed and he’s trying to touch her?” Shane’s voice was full of disgust. “Are you close to home?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be there in three hours.” There was silence on his end. I waited for him to speak and checked my phone, thinking I had lost the signal.

  “I like you,” he blurted into the dead air. “I like you, Aimee. I can’t stop myself. I’m trying to just be your friend, but you’re perfect and I can’t fight it anymore. I want to be with you. I wanted to be with you before, but with you being you and me being me, I just panicked.”

  The words were everything I had ever wanted to hear, plus some I didn’t understand.

  The phone was silent again as I held my breath, not sure how to respond. “Okay. Uhm, maybe we should talk about this later.” My heart skipped beats and my head was dizzy.

  “Okay, I just wanted you to know. I’m falling for you. I’ve fallen. It’s done. I like you. I always have.” He went silent after his declaration. I could tell this was hard for him too.

  I wanted to respond with a thank you, God, or please don’t move from where you are. I’ll be right there. Instead, I held my breath and with the exhale I shouted, “Okay! So, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  “Drive safe.” He hung up.

  I sat staring ahead at the van in front of us. I didn’t know what to say. I started my list of pros and cons and then I phoned Giselle.

  “Hello.” Her voice was raspy.

  “Shane just told me he likes me.”

  “Oh my God.” She squealed into the phone, “Yayyyyyyy. Okay, I need to hear every detail, word for word. Skip nothing.”

  I told her everything he had told me, word for word, to which she responded with, “OMG,” and “seriously?” and “I knew it,” on repeat.

  Her advice wasn’t exactly sage wisdom. “I think you should just do it. You should date him and have sex with him. And not go to college a virgin.”

  “Oh my God. Dude.”

  “What?”

  I cringed. “I can’t talk about this.”

  “Okay look, I’ve got to go. I’m super tired out. They took more blood this morning and I’m beat. I’ll see you in a few weeks. Cool?”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Yeah, for sure. Dad and I will be back. Don’t worry.”

  “Peace out.” She clicked off and I was alone again. I had officially lost control of my emotions.

  I looked to the sky—well, roof of the truck and whispered, “Mom, I need you.”

  Chapter 14

  I am a rational human being

  I walked into the library where Dad had dropped me off, under duress of course. He had wanted to escort me about town, but I told him I needed some alone time and would call for a ride home.

  He agreed, thankfully, and I left the outside world as I caught the first scent of the books. I loved the smell of books, but even more, I loved getting lost in them. If there ever was a time in my life I needed to get lost in books, it was that moment. I didn’t know what to do about Shane, or Giselle, or the stalker. It was too much excitement for how sick I was starting to feel again. I worried about my own body, nearly as much as I worried about Giselle’s.

  “Hey, Mary.” I smiled at the librarian. “How’s it going?”

  “Hey, Aimee.” She waved, not really letting her eyes leave the stacks she was checking. She was the first person to not treat me differently. “It’s been forever. Thought you might have died, kid. You still have that book out on ancient medicinal practices?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I laughed. Obviously, she hadn’t heard about the drugging. “I need it for a few more weeks. I’ll renew it today.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I might have died a few times.

  “Good enough for me.” She walked over to her card catalogue.

  Our library was tiny, with little to no technology ever making its way through the front doors. It was partly from lack of funding and partly because it wasn’t needed. Mary remembered every book that left and who it left with. Her retirement would be the end of an era. A sad one.

  I made my way to the nonfiction section and sat on the floor, touching the spines of the books, sensing the history flow from them to me. My mom had taught me to love and respect history, especially art. She said it was a visual documentation of history. Every aspect of a civilization, whether it was education, religion, or science was documented in art. Even the cave paintings taught us something about the people of their time.

  “Can I just slip past you there?” I knew his voice, straightaway. Afraid I would be disappointed to find someone else yet again, I was shocked when I peered up to see his face, exactly as I recalled it.

  “Hey!” I beamed. “It’s you!”

  “What? What’s me?” He seemed disappointed. “Sorry, have we met?” He was exactly as I remembered—tall, thick, dark-blond hair cut short, and the whitest blue eyes I had ever seen.

  “You saved my life. I remember you. I was choking.” The words flew from my mouth as the memories flooded my brain. I glanced at his sizable hands and remembered them inside my mouth, stretching my skin to fit. I shuddered a little at the thought. “I was on the floor turning blue, and you picked the vomit out of my mouth.” It sounded much worse aloud.

  “Uhhhh, what?” He started to laugh. It was a strong laugh. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re mistaken. I just need a book from where you’re sitting.”

  “No.” I put a hand on the bookshelf to help steady myself. I winced as I stood up. My eyes met his chest and roamed up to his face. He was huge. “No, it’s true—I saw you.” I couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. “I remember you.”

  “I think you’re confused.”

  “I’m not.” I stepped closer to him, fighting the desire to sniff him. I somehow knew he would smell like fresh ocean air but more intense, like incense. Of course it was because he had saved me. At least I wasn’t crazy. Unless only I could see him.

  “Look, I’m really sorry, but I’ve never met you in my life. I think you’re confused.” His tone was stern, like he was trying to intimidate me. But why?

  “I don’t think so.” I was still apprehensive that he could be the rapist. Even though his lips weren’t thin. They were full and soft. And he was way too big. “I’m Aimee.” I put a hand out for him to ta
ke.

  He hesitated as if he didn’t want to touch me.

  But I wanted it so badly that when he even considered putting a hand out, I grabbed it and shook both our hands. The warmth brought back the dream from the hospital. I remembered touching his hand. The feel of his skin excited me. It meant he was real. I wasn’t crazy or hallucinating.

  He didn’t seem to have the same enjoyment I did. He seemed like he was in pain.

  “It’s nice meeting you, uhhh—” I waited for him to answer his name.

  He sighed. “Aleksander. My name is Aleksander.” He said with the full effect of his subtle accent. That was hot.

  Mesmerized by him, I nearly whispered back, “Aleksander, that’s a nice name.” He flinched, hearing me say it. “So strong.” I blushed, realizing I’d said it aloud.

  “Yeah. Well.” He fought a grin. “It was nice meeting you.” His accent was killing me. It was the cherry on top of the sexy sundae that was already irresistible.

  “It was?” I asked and continued to stare.

  “Sure.”

  “You want to go?” I panicked at the thought of him leaving and blurted, “Now that we have officially met, don’t you want to talk about why I was on the floor throwing up?”

  “No.” He continued to fight his smile, still gazing at me intently. “I’m a bit of a sympathy puker.”

  “Pshhh. You are not.” I ignored the giant “get lost” he was sending my way and continued, “I was drugged at a party. You were there. How do you know Shane? Are you from Handley? Is Wade your brother?”

  “I don’t know Shane or Wade, and I wasn’t at the party. Who drugged you?”

  “Well—” I wondered if he was toying with me. “I did think you did it,” I said boldly.

  “Me?” His face dropped. “I would never do such a despicable thing. Besides, if I was supposedly the one picking the vomit out, why would I save you after trying to kill you?”

  “I don’t know. That’s a good question.” I stared into his eyes, noting how hypnotic they were. “You swear on my mom’s grave you never drugged me?”

  “God, you don’t kid around, do you?” He cringed. “I have never and will never drug you. I could never hurt you.” It was the weirdest thing he could have said.

  But I didn’t care. He said it like he knew me, the way I sensed he did.

  I hadn’t taken a breath in a while and started to feel light-headed.

  “You are so familiar to me,” I whispered, still close to his face. His lips were inches from mine. I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth.

  He dropped his words flatly, “Maybe you dreamed of me, Aimee. Nothing but a dream.” He seemed to struggle inwardly with something.

  Those words were too familiar to be mistaken. “I did.” I backed away, needing to come out of the bubble we had somehow stepped into, where we were the only people in the world. “I did dream of you.”

  “When?”

  “In the hospital. I’m positive I know you.”

  “Beloved,” he whispered.

  “What?” I was speechless. It had been a long time since anyone had said that word.

  “Your name, it means beloved.”

  “I know.” I took another step away from him. “How do you know that?” What was I doing? He was a stranger, and as far as I knew, one of the people drugging girls.

  “Je parle français.” He just kept getting better.

  “Well, your name means great protector.” I didn’t know why I said it, but he started laughing.

  “I know what my name means.”

  “My mom called me Beloved, all the time. Before she died.” I didn’t know why I said that either. I was all over the place and my mouth blurted whatever it wanted.

  “I’m sorry.” He winced. “How did she die?” He was making conversation and being nice to me, but I could tell he wanted to escape. His eyes darted to the door. But now that I had finally found him, I wasn’t going to make it so easy. I wanted answers.

  “Car accident.” I never took my eyes off him. “She was driving from the city to here and started to get sleepy, I guess. Even though it was midday, she got out of the car on the side of the road. We don’t know why. Sometimes she did some stretching when she became tired. There was a trucker driving toward her and a dog ran out in front of him—a big dog, he said. Like a wolf. He swerved and lost control of the tandem trailers he was pulling. My mom was in front of the car when the back trailer swung around.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I’d never told the story. The words had never left my mouth. I didn’t cry like I thought I would. In fact, it wasn’t dramatic at all. I just said it as though I might have said anything. “She was close to home too. That’s the weird part. She was only about thirty minutes away. It was nine months ago.”

  “That’s tragic.”

  “She was an art historian.” The words just kept popping out.

  “I adore art history.” He smiled. “I had a teacher who once said art is the most complete and detailed biography of history.”

  “That’s what my mom always said.” A smile crept across my lips.

  “I guess art lovers all feel that way.”

  It was hard to guess his age. He was a man. But I couldn’t imagine him being more than twenty-five. His face was young but his eyes were wise.

  “Want to go for a coffee?” I asked quickly, before he could end our conversation. I needed to know why he was at Shane’s and why he was lying about it. Especially, since I didn’t get a vibe off him at all.

  “I don’t know.” He frowned, trying to be polite. “I really need to get going.”

  “Please.”

  Seeing the desperation in my eyes, he softened for a second. “I guess one quick coffee wouldn’t kill me.”

  “Okay.”

  My phone blew up in my pocket with vibrations, as if on cue. “I better tell my dad where we are going.” I grabbed my phone and sent Dad a message, explaining I had gone for a coffee with a friend to talk about art. “He’s been weird lately.”

  “Since your mom?”

  “No.” I shook my head, almost smiling. “Since the drugging.”

  “That would do it.” He made the same face my dad and Shane did when they talked about it.

  “Okay, we can go now.” I put the phone back in my pocket, certain my dad was texting me back, and walked from the library with Aleksander. We strolled across the street to the Cup O’Feelin. It was our local jazz café, the only café.

  “So what are you reading now?” he asked, looking down at me.

  “Ancient medicinal practices. It’s riveting,” I replied, actually smiling.

  “Sounds riveting.” He opened the door for me and waited as I walked through. I only took my eyes off him for the second it took him to walk in behind me.

  Adele was singing on the radio about love and hurting as we strolled in. I could smell the coffee and freshly baked treats.

  “Hi.” I smiled at the woman at the counter.

  She smiled at Aleksander. “Why, hello there. See anything you like?” Her eyes wandered his beautiful face. I should have been excited that someone besides myself saw him, but I was more amused by the question.

  I wanted to shout up and down “I do, I do.” He was so hot. So hot I’d forgotten about his being at Shane’s at all.

  But he never took his eyes off me, even when speaking to the lady, “Whatever she is having.”

  “Me?” I smiled at him and spoke to her, “Soy latte and a lemon tart, please.”

  “Lemon for you, as well?”

  “Sure.” He handed the cash to her, but his eyes were locked on mine.

  I sat down at the table he guided me to and watched him get our coffees and tarts. Lemon tarts were my favorite treat, but I could barely taste it as I listened to him talk. The other women in the room were watching him as intently as I was.

  “So why are you visiting Port Mackenzie?”

  He smiled. “Maybe this is where I’m f
rom.”

  “No. No way. You’re not from here.” I pointed a finger at the woman who was staring at him so hard she didn’t even see me pointing. “She has never seen you before.”

  “Fine.” He chuckled. “You’re right. I’m not from here.” He laughed and bit into his tart. “I’m here for work. Just a couple of weeks.” He chewed and I realized I had never noticed anyone eat before, except Brad Pitt in Ocean’s Eleven, but this was better. His cheeks and jaw muscles flexed while his lips glistened with the movement. It was face dancing, and I was caught up in the movements. In fact, I could almost hear the music.

  I was entranced until the words sunk in. “What—a few weeks? Then where?”

  “Back home.” He shrugged.

  “Where is home?”

  “It’s far away from here. God, this soy milk is disgusting.” He grimaced, making me laugh. It seemed like he had relaxed, if only a little. “How do you drink that?”

  “It’s an acquired taste. Start with chocolate. It’s easier that way.” Sipping my coffee was hard because my heart was racing. He had a few weeks and that was it. I needed to know more about him. “Where are you staying, Aleksander?” I wondered if he liked Aleks better. Or Zander.

  “I am staying with the family I’m here helping. When my work with them is over, I will be on my way, unfortunately.”

  “Oh.” I frowned, confused. “Family? Are you like a social worker?”

  “Exactly, like a social worker. I can’t talk about it though. It’s confidential and I take that very seriously.” Again the stern nature was back. He was better at putting up walls than I was.

  For the first time since meeting, I noticed he wore a beige shirt with a cross on it. “Are you a Christian?”

  He laughed. “I don’t think of it like that. I try not to classify religion that way. I believe in God but maybe not church. The cross on my shirt is mine to bear, no one else’s. That’s the meaning of the shirt.”

  “Cool.” I smiled. “I like it. That’s a smart idea. Instead of assuming God and Jesus will save you and you can sin and just say you’re sorry for your crimes. This way your crimes are yours and yours alone. And if you’re sorry or not, it’s your problem.”