Chapter 3
I am halfway through my second bottle of Evian water and a Katy Perry song when Stephen Downey himself comes up to me and Hannah. At first, I would have teased him due to the fact that he seems decidedly paler than I had first seen him and his big blue eyes are wide. But when I notice Taylor is nowhere to be found, the humor drains from my face.
“Your sister,” he starts off, and even though he’s shouting over the music, his voice is somehow still soft. “She’s in the loo, er, bathroom. The bathroom. She’s asking for you.”
“Well, is she okay?” I demand. I really don’t mean to snap, but patience has never been a forte of mine, and though Stephen is ridiculously adorable when he stumbles over his words, such qualities need to be overlooked in order to get whatever it is that he’s trying to say.
“I don’t—I’m not sure,” he says, and then turns, leading me off the dance floor with Hannah right behind me. “She’s in the bathroom. She was complaining of a stomach ache….” He lets his voice trail off and I wish I knew the layout of the house so I could leave everybody behind and dash out to see her.
When Stephen stops at a door on the second floor, I instantly knock. “Tay?” I ask tentatively. “It’s me, Ronnie. Can I come in?”
She doesn’t so much answer as she unlocks the bathroom door. I give Stephen and Hannah a look that merges apologetic with I’ll be right back, and quickly slip inside.
And there is my sweet, sweet Taylor, head in the toilet, her body resembling a cat who just heaved out a hairball. And yet, when she pulls her head out of the toilet and looks at me, I realize that she’s as pretty as ever, even if a little pale. I swear, if Taylor isn’t as nice as she is, I would probably hate her.
“Aw, Tay-Tay,” I murmur with affection. “What happened?”
In oh-so-many words, Taylor tells me that she started feeling queasy an hour after arriving at the party, and has been in the loo, as Stephen calls it, since then.
“Oh, and Stephen has been so sweet, but don’t tell him why I’m in here,” she whispers, somehow knowing that he’s probably outside. “I would be completely mortified.”
I assure her that I won’t do anything hasty before I leave. Once outside, I wrap my arm around Stephen’s shoulder and lead him away from the bathroom door. Hannah has disappeared, but I can’t say I really blame her. Puke kind of smells, no matter whose mouth it comes out of. And anyway, my prime focus is Taylor now.
“I think it’s food poisoning,” I tell him in a low voice. “That sushi might not have been as fresh as you thought. She didn’t want me to say anything to you, but I just want you to know so you’re not worried about her. So, she’s kind of emptying the contents of her stomach out in your bathroom.” I frown. That probably isn’t the brightest or the most splendid thing to say to a hospitable guy like Stephen. “Once she’s finished, we can lea―” I cut myself off. I can’t even finish the word. “Shit!” I mutter sharply.
“What?” Stephen asks, and I suddenly remember he’s there beside me. Sometimes, my focus amazes even me; I get so wrapped up that I forget where I am or who I’m with. “What’s wrong?”
And upon seeing his anxious face, I can’t help but feel slightly bad about forgetting him.
“Taylor was our driver,” I explain. “I mean, I have a license and everything, but I’m not insured on her car.” I glance away and bite my bottom lip before mumbling another shit.
We are stranded.
Fuck.
“She’ll stay here,” Stephen says surely.
To be honest, the romantic in me wants nothing more to say yes. It would be the perfect excuse for Taylor and Stephen to spend time together, get to know each other better, yadda-yadda-ya. But I can’t agree to it, even though I want to. For one, there’s no way in hell Taylor would ever say yes. She’s sick, she’s not at her cutest, and she’d feel so ridiculously uncomfortable. I can’t put her through that. And for another, as cute and as endearing as Stephen is, we don’t really know him.
“Stephen, I really appreciate the offer,” I say, trying to sound sincere and firm at the same time. “But we’ll just head home. I think Taylor would feel most comfortable there, and no offense, but I’m not sure yet if you have serial killer tendencies or not.”
He’s so startled by my blunt response that he starts laughing. “Yes, yes, you’re quite right,” he says, nodding his head. “I shall have Aiden drive you so you don’t have to take a cab. He’s much better at driving than I am. And I’ll ride with Farrah and follow him so he can come back.”
I smile at him. “Thanks, Stephen,” I say. “I know Taylor really appreciates it.”
“Wait, what’s going on, exactly?” Aiden says, looking between me and Stephen with a perplexed look on his face.
“I know you’re looking for any excuse to leave the party, mate,” Stephen says, slapping Aiden on the back. “And our new friends need a ride home. You are the better driver.”
Aiden looks like he’s about to say something because he opens his mouth and then, after seeming to think better of it, shuts it abruptly and looks away. And I think I see his cheeks redden, but that could be my overactive imagination.
In a matter of minutes, we are both practically forced into his sleek black Bentley. Stephen follows with a near-unconscious Taylor. And then we are off; silently and awkwardly off.
God, I hate any sort of awkward silence. I wish Taylor was awake, because she’s so good at making small talk. And he isn’t really helping much, considering he is stiff as a board and his knuckles are turning white before my very eyes due to the fact that he’s gripping the steering wheel so tight that if the poor thing were alive, it most certainly would have popped an artery. Actually, now that I’m looking at Aiden, he may be the one in need of medical assistance.
I have to say something. Quick.
“Thank you.”
Aiden glances over at me just before we pull onto the freeway, his mouth slightly ajar as though it is astonishing that someone like me could possibly know any form of etiquette.
Upon seeing his look, I immediately cross my arms over my chest and scowl, deciding to look out the window rather than at Hannah’s big brother. “What? Did you not think I was going to thank you?” I snap. I don’t exactly mean to get this riled up, but there’s just something about Aiden Shawe that gives my emotions no other choice. To be honest, I’m surprised he and Hannah are actually related.
Instead of answering, I see Aiden clench his jaw so it pops and he focuses his eyes on the dark road. Apparently, he really is incapable of talking. I snort at this thought.
Immediately, his eyes are on me. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, completely offended. All because I snorted.
“Can’t you laugh at yourself, Mr. Shawe?” I ask him, and though he can’t be that much older than I am, I make sure to address him as a respectable woman might address a respectable gentleman back in the 1800s.
Again, he doesn’t reply, and I roll my eyes, not surprised in the least.
Another moment of silence encompasses us, and I pray we don’t hit traffic, theory or not. But something inside of me wants to get Aiden upset, to get some sort of reaction from him since it really is unlikely I’ll ever see him again unless Hannah insists that he come over for whatever reason.
“I just find the situation ironic,” I decide to explain. “You seemed surprised that I could be civil enough to thank you for your generous deed, and yet you don’t bother to respond with a variation of ‘you’re welcome.’”
“I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” he says in his hypnotic, bell-like voice. “Will a ‘you’re welcome’ suffice even though it is late?”
His sarcasm is noted, but at least we’re talking.
“Yes it will,” I say, looking straight ahead rather than at him. “But I should hope it doesn’t happen again.”
“Oh, it won’t,” he assures me, and I can’t tell if he’s merely playing our game or genuinely doesn’t think we’ll see each o
ther again.
We continue to drive in silence after I’ve tired of this repartee, and it’s not like he’s trying to make any effort to keep it going, so silence ensues. I’ve come to the point where I don’t care anymore, and as a result, said silence doesn’t feel awkward, at least not on my part. Except every now and then, I swear he’s looking at me from the corner of his eyes.
“What?” I finally ask after fifteen minutes of this. “Do I have something in my teeth?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” comes his quick reply.
“You keep looking at me and I don’t understand—” Before I can finish my train of thought, Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” starts going off. My face, out of my control, turns red, and I shift my weight so I can grab my cell phone buried in my jean pocket. As I grab it, I hear him snicker. Too bad my eyes don’t catch it; my sentimental side would have liked to see him smiling.
I glance down at my cell phone and inwardly groan at who it is, and yet I know I have to answer it anyway.
“Listen,” I begin after I’ve opened my phone and placed it up to my ear, “I know what you’re going to say—Ronnie, is this another one of your schemes to try to get out of seeing me? —to which I can assure you that the answer is no. This time, it was all Taylor’s doing.”
* * *
Marion was too focused on getting the impression of what he assumed was of her mother perfect for her to notice that he was grinning. And thank God too, because after she had caught him staring at her, he didn’t think he could live down another blatant confrontation from her.
“Mom, how could I have possibly poisoned the sushi to get Taylor sick? I didn’t even know this guy before…Mom, I am eighteen years old. I don’t think I need your permission to go to a co-ed party….”
This time, Aiden actually had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. He couldn’t help himself; there was just something different about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But of course, such curiosities would disappear once this whole errand was over. In fact, he highly doubted he would ever see her after tonight unless Hannah planned otherwise. Just because Marion was attractive and occasionally humorous did not make her accomplished in any sense of the word, and as a result, Aiden wouldn’t even entertain the notion that he could possibly be interested in her.
“…actually think I could concoct something like that just because I happen to find the guy adorable?”
Wait a minute. She found Stephen Downey adorable?
“…he hasn’t even looked at me that way, Mom, trust me.” Marion glanced over uneasily at Aiden, but his eyes seemed to be on the road. She took a quick look at Taylor, and deduced her sister was still passed out. Then, with a lowered voice, said “I actually think he’s into Taylor.”
This got his attention, but Aiden kept his face impassive.
“I can’t believe you think this is my influence.” Aiden could tell that Marion had reached past the point of no return, at least terms of her patience. “Listen, we might not be down there as early as we had hoped, but—” She was cut off, only to respond quickly with, “You cannot seriously think that I ruined Christmas.” After another moment of listening, she said, “Well, you and your nerves can think whatever you want, but that’s what happened. Now before you keep yelling at me and lose your voice, something I’m sure you’d have no problem blaming me for, I’m going to go. Give Dad and the girls my love, and Merry Christmas.” And with that, she snapped her phone shut before turning her head in a way that caused her hair to form some sort of curtain around her face.
Obviously, Marion didn’t want to talk, and Aiden was happy to oblige.
In another twenty minutes, he pulled up in front of an apartment complex quite close to the UCI campus. Before Aiden could even turn off the engine, Marion had already hopped out of the car, and threw open the back door.
“I see you won’t be asking for any help?” Aiden muttered as he got out of the car. Instead of offering it to her, he crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at Marion with a calculatinglook on his face.
“Not today, thanks,” she replied through gritted teeth. Though Taylor was as thin as an empty manila folder, Marion still seemed to be struggling with her sister’s full weight. She managed to get Taylor out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. She never asked for any kind of assistance and Aiden didn’t offer any, but as she walked away, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
* * *
Sometimes, I absolutely hated my mother. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but there are times I just want to strangle her.
Now is definitely one of those times.
My mother and I share only one common feature and that is our hair color. I swear, other than that, you would never know we are related. Our personalities are so different—she’s like the Amy Poehler from Mean Girls type of mom, and I am the kind of rebellious teenage daughter her own mother warned her about but never thought she would actually have. The fact that I’m obviously her least favorite child out of five girls doesn’t bother me. Well, it doesn’t bother me now, but it used to, when I was younger. If I didn’t have my father or Taylor, I might have turned into some emo pothead. Of course my mother and I both love each other—we are family after all—but…. Well, anyway, I just can’t believe Aiden was there to listen to the conversation. God, he must think my entire family is composed of freaks.
I snicker. The thought makes me smile.
I’m upstairs by now, putting Taylor in our room. I wonder if she knows Stephen Downey offered her a place to stay while she got over her sickness. No, definitely not, but I can’t wait to tell her. I smother laughter at the thought of that conversation. Surely that will cheer me up. I’m also glad Aiden took my very obvious hint and didn’t invite himself upstairs, especially since I’m not in any mood to pretend to be some kind of gracious host, least of all to him.
Okay, so, to be honest, I’m not sure if I like him or not. I mean, he is Hannah’s brother and he has an accent and he is incredibly good-looking, but then, he’s kind of an asshole. Anyway, why am I even wasting my thoughts on that douche? Focus, Ronnie, focus.
I quickly run around the apartment, grabbing Taylor’s favorite blanket, some Advil for tomorrow, a couple of bottles of lime green Gatorade—because only a sweetheart like Taylor could ever like lime green Gatorade—her Earl Grey tea, and her favorite Tigger mug. Once everything is collected, I arrange them as neatly as I can on her nightstand so she’ll have them right there when she wakes up.
* * *
To make up for the rotten sushi, Stephen Downey insists Taylor and I spend the night at his place the minute Taylor’s feeling better. I keep the smartass comments and catcalls to myself, and instead, use my clever wit to persuade her to accept his invitation. Hannah would be there too, and apparently, so would Aiden, but she’d get to spend more time with Stephen and look her absolute cutest.
When Taylor agreed, Stephen promised someone would pick us up exactly at noon. We’re out on the sidewalk by 11:55am with our stuff, waiting for the mystery driver. My draw drops after seeing who it is.
Aiden Douchebag Shawe.
Upon seeing me, Aiden jumps out of the driver’s seat after popping the trunk, and helps us put everything away. It might have actually been sweet if, once we are in the car, he doesn’t say, “Are you moving your sister into Downey’s place?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” I ask.
Aiden rolls his eyes as he starts the car. “You know,” he tells me, “I find that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”
“You know,” I say in the same tone, “I don’t really care what you find.” I place my hands on my thighs, already on edge due to my mother’s ridiculous phone call, and now this English douchebag is getting on my nerves. What do they call assholes over in England, besides assholes? Tossers? Aiden Shawe is a tosser. I frown. That doesn’t sound as cool or as badass as asshole.
&nbs
p; Taylor gives me a look, and before I can protest, slides into the backseat. Which means I get to sit up front with Aiden. Great.
“You Americans are all the same,” he mutters under his breath, but he says it in a way where he knows that I can hear him. “Rude, obnoxious, and vulgar.”
I snort. “Yeah, well don’t get all high and mighty, bucko,” I tell him. “Like you have any right to complain. You Brits think you’re better than everyone because you’ve got accents that make you sound smarter than you really are, and a queen. Well, history lesson crash course: we kicked your ass in the Revolution, and correct me if I’m wrong, but David Beckham ditched England to play for the Galaxy, so you can suck it.”
“I’m sorry, but did you just tell me to suck it?” Aiden asks me, flabbergasted.
“Did I stutter?” I retort. “Look, let’s just not talk.” And it’s only when I snap my eyes open that I realize they were closed beforehand. “I know you hate to talk to anyone, especially us barbaric Americans, so let’s just be quiet, tolerate each other, and then once we get back, we’ll probably never see each other again, and if we do, it’ll only be because of Hannah, and then we’ll just have to deal with it, okay? So let me repeat my sincere gratitude for what you’ve done for me and my sister, and that shall end our conversation.” I bristle and glance away, and even though I can feel his penetrating gaze on my profile, I refuse to acknowledge it.
And then he looks away, thank God.
Taylor remains quiet, and for once, I do too.
* * *
I dash from the car as Stephen comes out, and thankfully, I don’t have to wait around for Aiden to pop the trunk. He has pulled up to the front of the house, so once I grab my bag, I run up to the house. I make it a point to not wait around and see if Aiden would actually offer to help—if his high-bred English upbringing would ever allow him to do something so beneath him—because I really don’t want to deal with him in any sort of capacity. I nearly stumble due to the weight of the bags, but manage to catch myself just in time, and I’m glad for it. I really don’t need Aiden to see me fall on my ass because, quite frankly, as far as he’s concerned, the English probably don’t trip. Maybe I should have waited for Taylor, but this way, she can spend more time with Stephen because I know for a fact there’s no way Aiden would stick around to watch a beautiful relationship blossom.
Four Sides of an Attitude: A Cufflinks & Austen Novel Page 3