What are the chances of me actually being pulled over?
I ponder that thought as I quickly search my luggage for a decidedly low top, just in case. Hopefully, if I do get pulled over, it’ll be by a guy who has a thing for boobs.
My stuff is packed and it’s not even eight o’clock yet. That’s how badly I want to leave. It’s not because of Stephen, who is practically adorable. If I wasn’t with Taylor, he definitely was, talking and stuttering, trying to form his compliments with the right words but not quite able to do so. If I have to guess, I think Taylor’s halfway in love with him already, while he’s practically head over heels with her. I swear, if this was the 1700s, I’m sure he already would have proposed. And the funny thing is we’ve only been here, technically, for less than 24 hours.
Can anyone fall in love so fast?
I’m not quite sure…. But then again, I’ve never experienced it. But Taylor might be, and I don’t want to take anything away from her, especially when I thoroughly approve of Stephen Downey.
When I finish packing, I take my small bag and place it outside my door, preparing to come back for it once I finish helping Taylor pack. She has decidedly more things than I do because I couldn’t tell what she might want and what she didn’t so I just brought it all. Plus, we need to get to our parents’ place in order to exchange Christmas gifts.
Taylor is up when I reach her room which makes me a little more relaxed about leaving today.
“So,” she says, smiling at me when I enter the room, “are you happy we’re leaving?”
This is a tricky question. The correct answer is, “Hell yes I am,” and then I go off about how ridiculous each individual is, save for Hannah and Stephen respectively. But I know Taylor, and if I do that, I know she’ll feel guilty for having indirectly made me put up with them.
“I think,” I finally say, “that it would be best to get home. We still have to pick up the gifts and head over to Dad and Mom’s.” There. That is the truth at least.
Seriously, I hate to say it, but I feel like I shouldn’t be here. I like who I am and would never say I’m not good enough for anyone, but my family’s income is in a completely different bracket than theirs, and just being in this place makes me feel off. And with the way Farrah’s been looking at me, she’s thinking the same thing. You don’t belong here. It will be good to finally get back to our small apartment and my Joel McHale wall.
Taylor smiles at what I say, knowing that I don’t mean some of it. Thankfully, she doesn’t call me on it. Instead, she walks around the bed so she’s closer to me, and her honey-brown eyes scrutinize me. “Tell me,” she says, as though she can read my mind. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You most certainly do. Tell me about whoever you want to tell me about.”
This is why I love Taylor so much. Not only does she know I want to get something off my chest, but she allows me to express myself. I sigh, plopping on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment.
“The people that occupy the house…,” I begin, but let my voice trail off. “Not Stephen or Hannah. I mean Aiden Douchebag Shawe and Farrah Ice Queen Downey. It’s like…Farrah is the biggest bitch in the history of all bitches and her English accent makes her sound even bitchier, which I thought was impossible, by the way. She thinks I don’t belong here—the one thing we actually agree on—but she gives me this look like, ‘You’re a filthy, fat, stupid American’ kind of thing, you know? And I seriously think that she thinks I’m here to steal Aiden away from her. Can you believe that? As if I would be interested in Aiden Shawe.”
“Right,” Taylor says, though her tone isn’t quite believing. “Because you can’t stand tall, good-looking men with accents who happen to be studying law.”
I know she has me, but I have to respond in some way in my defense. “Not ones who go to UCLA,” I tell her. “And besides, Aiden Shawe is the biggest snob on the planet. I get it; you have lots of money. But what have you done with your life to earn that money? So you got into UCLA. So what? I’d be more impressed if he got into USC.”
“I’m sure you would,” Taylor says, hiding an enigmatic smile.
But I really don’t hear her. I’m too focused on this tirade I’ve been keeping to myself for the past three days. “And he wouldn’t even dance with me!” I continue on, though I don’t actually think of what I’m saying; I just kind of go along with my thoughts. “Can you believe that? He looked at me as if I was crazy or mental or whatever they call it over there. That I even had the audacity of asking him to dance.”
“You asked him to dance?” Taylor asks when I pause to catch my breath. “I never would have thought.”
“Well, what do you expect?” I ask, feeling my face flush at the confession. “I mean, he was just standing there awkwardly. I thought I was being nice. It wasn’t like I wanted to dance with him or anything. And you should have seen the way he looked at me while we were driving home that night you got sick.”
“And how did he look?” I know she’s trying to smother an amused smile, but I ignore it.
I try to grasp the words that will eloquently describe what I was feeling, but despite the fact that I’m majoring in English, I come up with absolutely nothing. “You just had to be awake,” I tell her, nodding my head to ensure that she knows how serious I am. “But trust me, he made me feel as though I’m not good enough with those blue eyes.”
Taylor sighs through her eyes and stands up. We’re nearly done packing for her anyway. “Ronnie, please don’t take offense to this,” she says, “but are you certain that you’re not just seeing things? Aiden is Hannah’s brother after all; just because he’s English does not mean he’s snotty, you know.”
“I know,” I reply, slightly defensive. “But yes, I’m not exaggerating. And that’s the thing. I can’t believe that Hannah and Aiden are biologically related. They’re, like, on two ends of the spectrum. She’s intelligent and sweet and open while he’s stiff and arrogant, and a big fat snob.” Okay, so when I get upset about someone, my insults are either very repetitive or very immature. Sometimes, like in Aiden’s case, they are both.
“Listen,” Taylor says. This is her serious voice, the firm voice she rarely uses unless she’s absolutely certain it needs to be used. And apparently, she feels that she needs to use it right now with me. “I understand that Aiden is sort of cold and standoffish. He doesn’t seem to like to socialize, and while he appears to be, as you so sweetly put it, snotty, he either isn’t very gifted with etiquette or he doesn’t care to use it.” This, of course, reminds me of our trifling car ride, but Taylor gives me a look and I shut my mouth. “But even so, Ronnie, Aiden is Hannah’s brother. We have to be nice to him. And you haven’t been in his shoes, you know. Maybe he’s been through something we’re not aware of and is so…rude for a reason. We should give him the benefit of the doubt.”
I know Taylor is right, which makes me even more frustrated than I already am. Any more retorts or complaints that are burning the tip of my tongue are quickly cast away, and I swallow them down. I still don’t think that the past excuses behavior in the present, and if Aiden says anything resembling a smartass comment, Taylor and I both know that I will think of a reply. But I guess I can stop judging him. At least for now.
“Ready?” Taylor asks, perking her brow.
I nod. “You?”
She nodded. “I believe Mom’s going crazy, wondering where we are.”
“She blames me for everything, you know,” I remark as I bend down to grab the bags. I send Taylor’s helping hand away and she opens the door for me. “She thinks I purposefully arranged for you to have the stomach flu so I wouldn’t have to see her.”
Taylor gives me a dry look. “I wouldn’t put it past you,” she mumbles under her breath, and I can’t help but smile.
We descend the stairs, and while I expect Hannah to bid us farewell, I am surprised to see not only our new roomie, but Farrah, Stephen, and Aiden himself. I try to avoid looking at Aiden
altogether, but his presence is still commanding and his height only adds to it. I can’t tell, exactly, if he’s trying to avoid me as well, but I assume we’re on the same page on that note.
He looks devastatingly handsome though. It gets on my nerves how good-looking he is because he is such an asshole. I know the stereotype has to have some truth attached to it, but I find it ironic that probably the best-looking guy I have ever met in my entire life is also the biggest asshole I have ever met. Even though it’s somewhat early in the morning, he’s dressed to the nines. It must have been an English thing, because I’ve never seen someone dressed in a suit before nine o’clock without the pretense of work, a wedding, or a funeral behind it. It’s dark, royal blue and white, bringing out his eyes even more and highlighting the attractive contrast of his dark hair and ivory skin.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye,” Farrah drawls.
“Don’t get too burnt up about it,” I retort in a quiet voice as I drop the bags. I promised Taylor I wouldn’t make any more remarks when it comes to Aiden. Farrah, on the other hand, is fair game, and she practically had a target on her face with what’s coming out of her mouth.
“Don’t worry,” Farrah says with a sneer. “I won’t.”
I glance over my shoulder to see if Taylor has overheard our exchange, and thankfully, she seems too into her conversation with Stephen to notice. Without sparing another glance in Farrah’s direction, I join my sister, though I make sure my presence does not interrupt whatever it is they’re saying.
“Your complexion looks much better,” Stephen says, not even noticing me. “Not that it was bad in the first place. No, of course not. But…oh….” He reaches behind him to scratch the back of his head. Taylor is flushing and giggling as she regards him with affection. “I’m glad that you’re sick—no, not sick. But much better. I am truly glad that you are much better.”
“Thank you,” Taylor replies. “Your hospitality has been so generous, especially since we were strangers only a few days ago.”
Stephen turns beet red at this and he actually shuffles his feet. “Yes, well,” he says in a soft voice, “I do hope that we can continue on and not be strangers again….” He allows his voice to trail off and I notice a slight tremor of hope in it.
I cut in, only because I know Taylor won’t know how to respond to that and I don’t want there to be any awkward silences. “Thank you again, Stephen,” I say, pulling him into a quick hug. He doesn’t expect the gesture and by the time I’m finished, he’s just begun to place his arms around me. “Everything you’ve done for my sister has been incredibly sweet and it really does mean a lot. You have a beautiful home, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Stephen says. He seems more comfortable with me, because he’s not stuttering as much. “I do apologize again for George’s surprising appearance.” I wave my hand, dismissing his apology yet again. “You and your sister are, of course, welcome here anytime.” If Farrah had her martini glass, I’m sure she would have dropped it upon hearing her brother welcome Taylor and me back anytime. And one glance at her proves my hypothesis correct. “It has been such a pleasure meeting you both.” His eyes shift back over to Taylor and I take my cue to leave them to it for a few more minutes.
Which is perfectly fine by me because Hannah practically tackles me to the floor with her enthusiastic hug.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say with a grin, glad I haven’t lost my footing. “It’s not like we’re saying goodbye forever, kid.”
“I know,” Hannah says and she releases me. “But I’m staying with Aiden for the rest of break and I know I’m going to miss you and your Joel McHale room. However, I must invite you to this party that Stephen’s throwing for New Year’s. It’s an American 1920s themed party, so make sure you dress up as a flapper or something along those lines.” She must have noticed the doubtful look on my face because she adds, “You are coming, aren’t you?”
I really don’t want to deal with Aiden and Farrah anymore, nor do I want any crazy surprise visits from George, despite how attractive he is. However, as my eyes find Taylor talking and laughing with Stephen, I know that she would want to be in his company again, and even though Stephen says we are welcome any time, I know Taylor won’t use that to see him, no matter how much she might want to. But a party we’re invited to would be the perfect excuse to be with him once again. And by that time, hopefully Stephen will actually ask her out.
“I suppose so,” I say, returning my gaze on Hannah.
She claps. “Very good.”
I step off to the side so Taylor can bid everyone goodbye. She even includes Aiden and Farrah in on her good nature, and both nod their heads, smiling coolly. I bet they’re counting down the seconds until we leave. I can’t fault them for that, though, because I’ve been doing the same thing.
Once Taylor does finish, I head over to where I’ve placed the bags, but before I can get to them, Aiden picks them up. Without a word, he begins to head out the front door and to the driveway, where a valet has left our car for us. Is he being chivalrous or is there some underlying cause for his sudden niceness that I don’t know about? Taylor doesn’t even blink an eye as she slides into the driver’s seat and pops the trunk so Aiden can place our bags there. He slams it shut when he’s finished and gives me a look I don’t fully understand. I feel I should say something, but I’m not sure what to say.
Instead, I turn to the car, preparing to open the door and take my seat, but once again, Aiden beats me. He’s there at the door, opening it for me. My mouth has now actually dropped open slightly at this, and I stare dumbfounded ahead of me, not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do.
“Are you planning on staying?” Taylor asks with a mysterious twinkle in her dark eyes.
I close my mouth and swallow, embarrassed that Aiden has so easily caught me off-guard, and I nod my head. I don’t trust myself to speak just yet. I climb in and Aiden shuts the door. Again, we make eye contact. His gaze penetrates my own and I have to look away from the intensity of it.
Has Aiden completely changed into another person? Or is Taylor right? Have I simply misjudged him in the first place?
I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t really want to.
Chapter 6
Babysitting was a verb he never thought he would indulge in, but things didn’t always work out the way Aiden planned. He wasn’t actually babysitting. There really was no baby, unless one considered a twenty-four-year-old redheaded vixen with a dry martini in one hand and a Marlboro Light in another who found it necessary to bad mouth a woman she barely even knew a baby. And Aiden most certainly did.
Where the fuck was Stephen anyway? He said he had to clear up some things with George, but that had been hours ago.
And speaking of George, just what the fuck was he thinking, coming here? George was someone Aiden had never wanted to see again and had showed up at the most inopportune moment. In fact, George had showed up in the worst room at the most inopportune moment. Out of all the rooms George had the opportunity to climb in, he had to choose Marion’s room? That was just typical George. He always seemed to know where the beautiful women were sleeping and wanted to crawl in and join them.
Not that Aiden found Marion Bixby beautiful. Well, logically speaking, she was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. He could admit that. It was ruined when she opened that mouth of hers and words came out. She always seemed to be forming some sort of opinion that happened to contradict his view of the world. They were like two opposing pawns on a chess board.
Aiden didn’t like being argued with. It wasn’t the fact that Marion was a woman, or that she seemed to prefer USC to UCLA, or even that she was American. Aiden had been raised where opinions were kept to oneself, and to see a girl so blatantly disrespect him by opposing his beliefs without even knowing him was a shock he never believed he would have to endure. Marion Bixby was the rudest, most ridiculous person he had ever met in his entire life and he hoped he would never have to see her again.
“…Stephen actually finds himself smitten with the oldest Bixby girl,” Farrah continued before placing her perfectly glossed lips over the butt of the cigarette. The two were taking a walk around the Downey grounds, and while Farrah went off about something else relating to Hannah’s new roommates, Aiden tried to avoid the smoke and all thoughts regarding the younger of the two roommates. This was hard to accomplish since Farrah couldn’t stop bitching about them. She must have forgotten to eat. Again.
“They’ve only known each other for what? A few days at the most? And you know, I don’t think she was really sick. In fact, I truly believe that once she stepped into our house, all she could see were dollar signs and so she faked her illness and used her bewitching ways to get closer to Stephen.” Another puff on the cigarette didn’t seem to calm Farrah’s nerves as much as Aiden knew she hoped it would. “And now, Stephen’s under some fucking American girl’s spell that he can’t break free from! It must be her accent. Why else would he even fathom being interested in her?”
“It couldn’t possibly be because she’s gorgeous,” Aiden said, deciding to throw Farrah into even more of a tizzy than she already was. He had to press his lips together in order to keep from laughing at the notion that Stephen was under some sort of spell. Although, such a thing could explain why Marion was still on his mind.
Farrah snapped her head up to look at Aiden with worry written in her blue eyes. She had stopped walking and, as a result, Aiden stopped as well. “Well, I suppose…” She let her meek voice trail off before taking a long sip of her drink. “But her sister? Definitely not. No. Did you see what she was wearing? I mean, honestly. Has the girl never heard of fashion?”
Aiden decided not to reply. He didn’t think that Marion’s lack of fashion sense took away from her beauty at all, but such a thought was immediately banished from his mind and he refused to voice it aloud. Instead, he shrugged his broad shoulders and slowly arched a brow, unsure if Farrah had anything more to say, or if they could continue on with the walk. She would get tired soon, he knew, and he didn’t want to carry her back to her room despite the fact that she probably weighed as much as a flower petal.
Four Sides of an Attitude: A Cufflinks & Austen Novel Page 5