Kissed by a Rose: A Dead Roses Novel

by Workman, RaShelle

“She told me she fell. I thought maybe you did it.”

  “Me?” he asks, incredulous. “Why would you think that?”

  “Hey, I trust guys about as far as I can throw them. And I know her past, what happened. What she saw. I was worried she might have told you and maybe you got mad. I could understand, even if I’d have to kick your butt if you hurt her.”

  “She told you?” he asks softly.

  “Yeah.”

  There’s quiet for a few minutes, and I try to open my eyes. He’s still sitting beside me. I can feel him. Hear the beat of his heart. He’s so close.

  I reach out to him. Feel his perfect arms. “You’re so warm. I love you, Cole. Always have.”

  I hear Gina giggle.

  Cole’s heart speeds up. “So why can’t we practice our duet together?”

  I knead his fingers between mine. “Because I love you, love my aunt and uncle… I have to keep you safe.”

  “What does she mean?” Cole asks.

  “I have no idea, but maybe you should leave her be. I gave her two painkillers, which was obviously one too many.”

  “Take care of her. I won’t be long.” I feel his lips gently press against mine. Then I feel his body leave the bed, and I let out a moan.

  “Don’t go. I-I need you.”

  He presses a hand to my cheek. “I’ll be back.” He rifles around on the bed. “And keep your phone on.” I hear the frustration in his voice.

  32

  Wow Me, People

  Rosie

  When I wake the next morning, my head is pounding like pots and pans on New Year’s Day. I throw off the covers and climb out of bed. Today I’ll make it to all my classes.

  Gina is still asleep. I’m not sure whether to wake her or not. She rolls over and says, “I’m up. I’ve been up all night. You wouldn’t stop snoring. I almost choked you to death in your sleep.”

  I smirk. “Sorry, Gina.” I grab a water bottle, twist it open, and chug it down.

  “Hey, that’s my water. Crook. You owe me a dollar.” She jumps out of bed and grabs her shower bag. “You gonna make it? You look like crap warmed over.”

  “Gee. Thanks.” I touch my lip. It’s sore. “I have to.”

  “You sure? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

  “Not if you want to continue to be my fried,” I say, only half-kidding.

  She sighs, making it obvious she’s irritated. “Fine. I’ll see ya in class.” She takes off to the bathroom.

  I finish the water and toss the bottle in the trash. My head still feels like it’s going to split in two. I touch the back of my head where it hit the pavement and flinch. There’s a large goose egg.

  My whole body is tender. When I change out of my sweats, I notice bruises on both knees. My hands feel swollen. In the bathroom I see my lip is split and puffy.

  The idea that Evan did this to me is irritating. Frustrating. Pull-my-hair-out aggravating. I never would’ve guessed he could be such a jerk. And that’s not even the proper word. He’s worse than that. He’s the epitome of evil. Maybe the trait comes from the roots of the family tree. It’s part of his DNA, as unchangeable as the sun crossing the sky. There’s something off about Evan’s dad. I noticed it right away. Cole and Evan’s dad were brothers. I wonder how they were raised.

  Except Cole, I think, and sigh. He seems really good.

  I tenderly put my hair in a low ponytail, brush my teeth, and apply lip-gloss, hoping the sheen will mask some of the puffiness. It doesn’t, but it’s the best I can do. My goal is to get through this week. Finish all of my assignments, or as many as possible.

  Four more days. Then my aunt and uncle will come and get me, and I can talk to them about Evan. Tell them the threats he made and the things he said about my mom and dad. I hope my aunt and uncle will tell me the truth. Then I remember I invited Gina to stay with us. If she comes, a family discussion might be tricky.

  Four more days, I tell myself, and head to class.

  * * *

  In English, Ms. Spears gives me a knowing sneer. I want to rip her lips off. Gina notices and raises an eyebrow.

  “What’s up with Witchy Spears?” Gina winks. I shake my head as though I have no idea.

  But I do have an idea. She’s rubbing it in my face that she and Cole were together, and I don’t like it. As if on cue, Cole stands. He’s passing back our assignment from last week. What if my grade sucks? I think back on what I wrote and cringe.

  Witchy Spears speaks. “Mr. Morrison is passing out the information for your final paper. This is the only copy you’ll receive, so keep it safe. The final will be a third of your grade, so made it great. Wow me, people.” She proceeds to spend the next hour discussing the different thematic elements in some movie I’ve never heard of. All I want to do is fall asleep. But I don’t. I stay awake and focus. Until my phone vibrates against my leg. For once I’m grateful for stadium seating. I casually hide behind Troy, the tall guy with the basketball, the one who ran me over the first day of school. He’s on scholarship for the basketball team, and it’s obvious he’s into the sport. He seems nice. Hails from Las Vegas.

  I check my cell. The text is from Cole.

  Glad to see you’re okay. Want to talk?

  I do want to talk to him, more than anything, but I can’t. Not with Evan lurking about. He said he would hurt my aunt and uncle, and after the way he pushed me around last night, I’m inclined to believe him.

  I text back. All good, thanks.

  You say that, but I don’t believe you. Besides, it isn’t nice to lie to the guy you love.

  I’m shocked. Why would he say that?

  What? I text.

  Yeah, don’t deny it. You love me, and you want me. Accept it, Freckles.

  My face heats up to boiling, but I remember saying the words to him now. They’re true. So true. Even if I hadn’t meant to say them. I have Gina and her stupid pain pills to thank for my oversharing.

  I look over at her and frown. She lifts her shoulders. “What?” she mouths.

  I shake my head.

  My phone vibrates. I’m watching you, Lard Rose.

  I gasp. I know exactly who sent me the text, and it wasn’t Cole. The screen says Blocked. Trying to be casual I glance around the room, but I don’t see him.

  Cole texts me. Please practice with me tonight. It’s important. Then he types a semi-colon with a parenthesis—a winking face.

  A smile lifts my cheeks. As soon as I notice, I stop. Quickly type back: Okay.

  Witchy Spears is winding down. I think she’s almost finished talking when she asks a question. “What distinguishing tendencies did most early twentieth century writers have?” She scans the room. Several hands go up. Lots of students with opinions. I’m guessing that’s good. I don’t want to answer, so of course, she calls on me. “Miss Hansen. Please enlighten the class.”

  I sit up straight. Clasp my hands in my lap. “Um…” I pause, and Witchy Spears interrupts.

  “Obviously she’ll get an A on the final.”

  The class laughs.

  I shrink down in my seat. There’s plenty I could’ve said: stuff about Modernists, Realists, and even Naturalists.

  My phone vibrates. I hate this class. It’s Toxic. She Drives Me Crazy.

  I cover my mouth to keep from snorting.

  Agreed.

  * * *

  The rest of the day is hard, but uneventful. I talk to my teachers, tell them that I slipped on some water and fell down a long flight of stairs. It could happen. They’ve agreed to let me make up my work. I guess, in a small way, I have Evan to thank. The bruises on my face encourage the teachers to take pity. I see it in their demeanor.

  More snow is falling. As I make my way to the Fine Arts building, I leave tracks on the sidewalk. My toes are frozen. Large snowflakes sting my face and stick to my eyelashes. I pull open the door and my body sighs in relief.

  The entryway is quiet. I quickly make my way down the steps and pull open the doors to the p
ractice rooms. A little more tension leaves my body.

  Music fills my ears and my soul sighs.

  About halfway down the hall I hear the song Cole played the last time he arrived before me. As before, the melody breaks my heart. It’s lovely, breathtaking. It sweeps me away to a place where I’m more comfortable, more relaxed, more at peace.

  I pull open the door and he stops playing.

  As soon as I see him, my heart speeds up. This is our sanctuary. No one can touch us when we are within these walls. Unless we allow it. He comes over, pulls my light coat off, and tosses it into a chair. I’m mesmerized by the way his hands move, the way the muscles in his forearms and biceps flex and contract. I can’t help but be taken in by the way his navy shirt hugs him from his chest all the way down to his narrow hips. Past his faded denim. And, for the first time, I check out his shoes.

  They’re white. Look worn. Sneakers. Comfortable. Cozy. Unassuming. Just like Cole. And I smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi back.” His lips find mine immediately. No hesitation, but he’s soft. Tender. I know he’s taking into consideration my split lip, and his thoughtfulness gives me shivers. He is still urgent, I respond in kind. Hungry for him. He presses my mouth open, carefully deepening the kiss. My thighs ignite at the pleasure.

  I can’t keep my hands off him. They wander up his chest and shoulders and back down his arms. His arms are wrapped around me, holding me to him.

  There’s a knock on the door, then it opens. I suddenly remember Evan and what he said he would do—to me, to my aunt and uncle. I feel sick.

  “Hey Professor Jenkins,” Cole says casually.

  A sob of relief escapes my throat. I need to be more careful. I turn and smile.

  Professor Jenkins clears his throat. Gives my face a once over. Shakes his head. “Are you warmed up? Can I hear how the piece is coming along?”

  “Um, sure,” Cole says.

  We move to take our seats. After I’ve adjusted my bench and swallowed my humiliation, I glance at Cole. Send him a message with my eyes. This isn’t going to be good. My fingers aren’t limber. I haven’t played in a couple of days.

  Cole saves me.

  “Do you mind if we run through a couple of exercises?”

  Professor Jenkins’ eyebrows rise into his salt and pepper hair. A look that asks, “What have you been doing?” He takes a seat in a chair, crosses one leg over the other, and tweaks his clothing. “Of course. Proceed.”

  I’m so happy I could reach over and kiss Cole, but I don’t. We run through scales together for five minutes. I’m amazed at how well we play together. It’s not easy to play a song with someone else. The best duet partners learn to breathe together. For many, it takes years of practice. But with Cole, it’s as if his heart is a part of me. I sense the beat, when he’s going to breathe. Each time I glance at Cole, I get the feeling he’s experiencing the same thing.

  My fingers are feeling better, more limber. I nod, letting him know I’m ready.

  Cole counts quietly. “One. Two. Three.” He starts to play. I join in. My fingers play the notes. My soul follows along. Soaring. Reaching. Believing. Worry about Evan, about whether I should be with Cole, and the stress of school fade into the background.

  I am the music.

  I’ve had the piece memorized for a while and I play with my eyes closed, only occasionally opening them to watch Cole when there’s a particularly difficult section. His ice-blue eyes meet mine every time I look over. Melting me. And I’m lost. In his eyes, the chords, the melody.

  When it’s finished, Professor Jenkins claps. He stands, picks up his briefcase and his coat and moves to the door. “Lovely. Almost there. Keep it up. I’ll check back after Christmas break.”

  He leaves. The air’s thick with a tension I hadn’t noticed before. I glance at Cole and we both start to laugh.

  “Are you staying with your aunt and uncle for the break?” He stands and makes his way over. The butterflies in my belly flutter with eagerness.

  I swallow and clear my throat. “Yes. Are you going home? I mean, to your aunt and uncle’s?”

  He walks behind me, touches my back with his hand. Moves my hair out of the way and massages my shoulders.

  “Mmmmmm. That feels sooooo good.” I let my head hang forward, giving him easier access.

  His magic fingers knead the stressed muscles. Then move further down. I close the lid over the keys and lean forward.

  Cole chuckles. “I take it you don’t want me to stop.”

  “I might have to hurt you if you stop.”

  “Got it, Boss.” His fingers move further down my spine.

  My body is humming with happiness. I think I could let him do this for hours. He moves along my waist to my sides, then presses in. My body responds like a light bulb flipped on and I whirl around, slapping his hands away. “Don’t tickle me.”

  He pulls me close, nudging my neck with his nose, his lips. My heart pounds against my chest so hard I think I’ll pass out. “I want you, Rosie Hansen.”

  I melt into him, hugging him. I want him too. But Evan’s voice is in my head. “Keep your knees together and your lips closed.”

  He straddles the bench so he’s facing me. I lean in. Mesmerized by his hands on my body. When they reach my chin, he lifts my face and kisses me. Long and deep, until I press into him, dizzy with pleasure.

  “Until break we’d better practice long and hard.” His voice is hoarse, filled with emotion.

  I mutter something incoherent, too focused on the gratification his mouth is eliciting as he blazes a trail of hot kisses over my face and down my neck.

  33

  Coats Are For Babies

  Rosie

  “My Aunt and Uncle are waiting, Gina. Let’s go.” I’m trying not to act impatient because I’m glad she changed her mind and decided to come, but she’s making it difficult. At the moment she’s stuffing random clothes into a big black duffel bag. “We’re going to be gone three days, not two months. Jeans, tee shirts, shoes. That’s it. All you need.” I stomp my foot in frustration as I watch her ignore me. Open a shoebox and toss her black ankle boots into the bag.

  Gina looks up. “Almost done.” She pulls a short black dress off a hanger. “You never know when you might need a party dress.” She smiles big, and it reaches her eyes, a rarity for her. It finally occurs to me that she’s excited. To meet my family. A small piece of my heart melts. I’ve sensed something going on with Gina. I’m hoping during these three days—without boys, parties, booze, or drugs—she’ll tell me what that something is. “Ready,” she says, tugging on her black leather jacket and zipping it. Wrapping a red scarf around her neck.

  She walks over, tugs on my gray sweatshirt, and says, “Why don’t you have a coat?”

  “Coats are for babies,” I say smugly.

  She snorts. “Whatever, crazy lady.”

  We head down on the elevator, her with her big bag, and me with a small rolling suitcase. The elevator is crowded. Hot and stuffy. When the door dings open, we burst from the small container. I look at Gina, and she smiles.

  “This is going to be fun,” she says, pushing open Irvine Hall’s front doors.

  I’m about to agree until I see Evan. He’s leaning against Cole’s Jeep. His ankles and arms crossed. He’s smiling, and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach.

  Cole, I think, and frantically search for him. I see my aunt and uncle’s car. They are parked in front of Cole’s Jeep. My heart is frenzied. I wonder if Evan knows who they are.

  “Hey Rosie.” Cole appears on my left and wraps a hand around my waist.

  “Hi,” I respond, my gaze spinning back and forth between Cole and Evan.

  Cole kisses my cheek. “Let me help you with your suitcase.”

  “Um…” Evan points a finger gun at me and pretends to shoot. I look at Cole. “That’s okay.” I walk a little faster, pulling away from his hand. “I’ll see you in a few days. ‘Kay?” My uncle gets out of the car and opens the trunk
. A big smile is plastered on his face. I notice his dark hair is thinning in front. He’s wearing a brown leather jacket and tan pants. I’m so happy to see him.

  But then I panic. Walking over to my uncle feels like betraying him. Giving him up. Allowing Evan to know who he is. Although he probably already does. Still, I pretend not to see my uncle.

  “Rose Eleanor Hansen. Where are you going?”

  I skid to a halt. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t see you.” The words sound as lame as they are.

  Gina gives me a strange look. I’m about to give her an excuse when her phone chirps. She pulls it out of her pocket and looks at it. Then spins in a circle, like she’s lost something.

  “I’ll be right there,” I say to my uncle, holding up a finger. Then help Gina search for whatever it is she’s looking for.

  “Hustle. Your aunt is anxious to get home. Something about an I Dream of Jeanie marathon,” my uncle says.

  I see Romney the same time Gina does. She drops her suitcase. Runs. And jumps into his outstretched arms. They kiss. Their hands roaming all over each other’s bodies, like they can’t get enough. You’d think it’d been years since they’d seen each other, instead of hours.

  Romney says, “I changed my mind. My parents can suck it. I can’t leave you.” He glances at the bag she dropped. “Unless you have other plans?”

  “Oh.” She steps from his arms. “I-I…” She looks at me, her eyes pleading. But I can tell she doesn’t want to be one of those girls. The kind who chooses the boyfriend over the best friend. So, I save her.

  “Gina’s so sweet. She was helping me with my bags.” I pick up her bag and whisper, “You owe me.” I smile.

  She smiles back. Mouths, “Thank you.” Puckers her lips in an air kiss. Out loud she says, “I’ll see you when you get back.” She hugs me. “Love you, Rosie. Thanks.” She pushes me back, looks at my face. “You’re like the best person I’ve ever known.”

  I hug her again. “Ditto, Gina.”