Three Strikes (Four of a Kind Book 3)

by Kellie Bean

  "Are you okay?" I ask once we've sat down, since Rosie still hasn't said anything.

  Our legs are so close together that I can feel the warmth coming off of her skin. She doesn't seem to be vibrating with excitement over her upcoming summer freedom the way everyone else is. I don't mind being at school, not really. I don't mind my classes, and I like the people. Even though it's not like I have any big summer plans, I'll still probably get to see Rosie sometimes. Even if it's just when she's at our house with her friends to see Reagan instead of me. It won't be like this. It’s probably for the best anyway.

  Working with Rosie has been different from any other group project I've ever done. I never have any problem getting along with people, but right from the beginning, it's felt like Rosie really sees me. She's interested in a way that's more than someone just trying to be polite. Again and again, I kept trying to read into little things she'd do or say. Or the way she'd look at me. Sadly, nothing ever happened. Every time I got my hopes up that maybe she was looking at me and seeing more than a classmate, the moment would be gone as fast as it came.

  So, I could probably use a little time away from all of this confusion to bring myself back down to earth. At least, that's what I've been trying to convince myself all week.

  "Just tired," she utters.

  I don't probe any further. After a few seconds she adds, "It's just weird to think that the school year is finally, really over. I just wanted more time, I think." Her eyes are locked on mine again. I think my heart might explode. "I wanted us to have more time."

  Wait. What!?

  I try to find some way to twist her words into something that can't mean what I want them too, but as I play them over and over in my head, hope grows within me by the second. She definitely said she wants more time with me.

  I'm clueless about how to respond.

  "The break will be good," I manage to sputter out, not sure what else to say. "You've got a whole summer of being able to work on anything you want. Or not. I kind of want to give my hand a break for a few weeks, you know." I splay my fingers out on our table for effect. "I've built up some pretty solid calluses, so I go to sleep every night feeling like my hand is going to be permanently stuck in claw form."

  I know I'm changing the subject and destroying the moment, but I don't know how to stop myself. If I say something, or do something, she'd pull back, embarrassed.

  Rosie lets out a noise that sounds like something between a snort and a huff. "I give it three days."

  It's official, moment ruined.

  "What?" I'm not sure I even remember what we were talking about.

  "You taking a break from art. Three days, tops. You can't quit this any more than I can."

  Right. I blush a little, mostly because she's right. I kind of love that she's noticed this about me after only two weeks. Okay, we've spent a lot of time together during those two weeks. But she's noticed me.

  "We'll see," I say, trying to sound coy as I panic internally.

  I wish I could find a way to twist this into an invitation to hang out during the summer. Or to just ask her out on a date, to see what she says. That's one way I could know for sure. Instead, I force myself back to the plan, back to Rosie being Rae's friend instead of my...art partner?

  Crush?

  I have no idea what I'm doing with myself anymore. This girl has me completely turned around.

  All I know is that the more time I spend with Rosie, the more I want to be around her, and the more I struggle not to bring her up every time Reagan's around. I want to know everything about her.

  I want to be as brave as Reece and Rhiannon, so I can just come out and ask Rosie if maybe there's something here that doesn't just exist inside my mind.

  I so badly want to believe that there is.

  All of my friends back home knew that I've been into girls for as long as I can remember. I never officially came out here after my family moved to Fairview. Maybe Reagan mentioned it to her friends at some point? I'm not sure. Does she see it as something she shouldn't do without asking me? Or something that's so not a big deal that she didn't even think about asking me?

  Yeah, I've been rethinking these same questions for weeks now and haven't gotten any closer to answers.

  Now Rosie keeps looking at me like I'm a puzzle she wants to piece together. She's curious about me. I know it.

  That doesn't mean I know what to do about it.

  If it hadn't been two years since my first and only kiss, I probably wouldn't feel so hopelessly out of my league here.

  I let myself glance at Rosie one last time as Mrs. Jones comes in the room. Rosie’s eyes reach mine a moment later, sensing my gaze just as our teacher bursts into her final speech of the school year.

  Rosie moves in close and whispers to me, "I hate that I'm not going to get to see you every day."

  I don't have a chance to respond.

  My fingers are clenched around the edge of our table, trying to squeeze all the tension in my body right into the wood.

  It's now or never. I'm going to have to do something.

  I'm more thankful than ever for Mrs. Jones' ability to ramble endlessly at the beginning of class, giving me time to try and figure out how to respond before she inevitably lets us do whatever we want with our last class of the year.

  I have to do something. I have to try.

  If I don't make a move, I'll spend the whole summer wondering what might have happened if I'd just let myself take a chance, and trust that all of those moments between Rosie and I were her trying to tell me something, or to at least open the door toward a new possibility.

  A door I kept closing because I didn't want to risk being embarrassed if I'm wrong.

  What would my sisters do?

  Rhiannon would probably demand answers. She'd get Rosie to spell out exactly what she means so there's no room for misinterpretation.

  Reagan...would probably be just as bad as I am. Although, maybe not. She was the first one of us to start dating in Fairview, shocking everyone who has ever met her. She does know Rosie way better than I do. I probably should have asked her advice two weeks ago, when Rosie first started giving me those long looks that suggested...

  Okay, Reece.

  Reece wouldn't even be thinking about any of this. She'd have made a move by now.

  Pretty much any of my sisters would be handling this situation better than I am right now. In theory, I'm exactly the same as they are, made of the same stuff and holding the same potential. Except they aren't gay. Meaning, they've never had to risk quite this much by taking a chance.

  I still don’t think that would stop them in the end. So I can't let it stop me.

  I relax my hand around the desk, taking a slow deep breath as blood rushes back into my fingers. Slowly, my hand moves down toward my lap, down toward where Rosie's hand rests on her own thigh.

  I want to reach for her right then and there, but I can't make myself go all the way. Instead, I rest my hand awkwardly against the side of my own leg, pressing up against hers in a way that promises this isn't happening by accident.

  I'm making my move. It's pathetic, but I'm doing it. My mind is screaming at me to pull away before I do anything more to embarrass myself. It's already too late. Rosie's entire body tenses up beside me, and for once, I can't make myself look at her.

  Instead, I stare straight ahead at the white board, like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

  Oh, God. What am I doing?

  Then, just like that, she relaxes again. I hear a sigh escape her lips beside me. She's not swatting me away, not telling me to get lost, or even politely rejecting me.

  Her hand moves closer to mine, not farther away.

  At first, only one of her fingers loops itself over mine, then another and another. It's all happening so fast that I can't take it all in and savor the moment.

  I'm holding Rosie's hand, and she's holding mine right back.

  This is really happening!

  CHAP
TER THREE

  It’s official. Summer vacation with a crush on someone who likes you back is so much better than any other kind I’ve had before.

  Ever since summer started, Rosie and I have basically existed in a happy bubble away from the rest of the world. I’m loving every second I get to spend alone with her. The only problem is, my heart is already crying out for more. Every time I’m near her, I want to touch her. Every time I’m alone with her, I want to tell her all my secrets. I’m not sure if Rosie is ready for any of that, and I’m doing my best to give her the space I had needed to figure myself out, back when I first started questioning who I was and what I wanted in love.

  Rosie and I sit together on the grass by a small creek I don’t think anyone has ever bothered to name. Her bare legs are draped over mine, and my thumb traces patterns over the hand she’s using to keep herself propped up.

  It’s peaceful. Quiet. But there’s so much I want to say. What are we? What is this? Can I keep you?

  “I’m getting hungry,” Rosie says, startling me despite the softness of her tone.

  “We can go, if you want. Or did you want to come over for lunch?”

  For three out of the last five days, Rosie’s had at least one meal at my house. So far, no one in my family has so much as batted an eye at us. Maybe it’s because at least one of my sisters will usually have a friend around looking to be fed as well. I mean, everyone is used to it. No one asks any questions, because no one knows there’s anything to ask about.

  This has to be the longest I’ve ever gone without telling at least one of my sisters about something big going on in my life. I kept my lips sealed the whole time Rosie and I were working together, even though I could see Reagan starting to feel weird about me spending so much time with one of her friends. Even the one she’s the least close with.

  “Actually, is it okay if I head home for lunch for a bit?”

  Alone.

  She doesn’t say the words, but they’re implied. So far, all of our time together has either been spent out here where no one can see us, or at my house where there’s always so much going on that no one notices what anyone else is doing.

  I know what it means, and I’m okay with it. She needs to do things at her own pace. I still kind of hate the idea of spending the rest of the day without her.

  “Of course,” I say with a smile. “Spending the day with your mom?”

  Rosie shrugs. Before, when all I knew about Rosie was what Reagan mentioned about her, I learned pretty quickly that Rosie’s mom was basically the most important person in her world. And yet with me, she somehow never comes up.

  “Maybe we can meet up again for dinner? At the diner.”

  “Oh.” I stop breathing. “Really?”

  In theory, a dinner date shouldn’t be much to write home about. To Rosie, Fairview’s diner is home. After all, her mom waitresses there most afternoons and evenings.

  I try not to read too much into what she’s asking. Still, there’s no denying that Rosie is looking to introduce me to part of her world.

  “I’d love to!” I answer too quickly, too enthusiastically.

  Yet, right away, Rosie is grinning back at me.

  Flexing my fingers, I take her hand in mine and give it a quick squeeze, reminding myself that the two of us are here together. In this together.

  Too soon, Rosie pulls herself to her feet and uses our still interlocked hands to help me to mine.

  “Text me when you want to meet up?” I ask, leaving everything as open for her as I can.

  “Yup. Probably around six. I–” she pauses, hesitating on something I don’t yet understand, “I need to do something first.”

  That doesn’t sound ominous at all. Not asking any questions, I smile and nod. I’m not risking any move that might make all of this disappear as quickly as it happened.

  For the longest moment, we both stand there looking at each other. There’s a fly buzzing somewhere behind my head, and the grass is tickling at my ankles, but I’m barely aware of any of it. All I can see is her. Her dark eyes are intent on me, and she seems to be leaning in ever so slightly that I could almost be imagining it.

  Before I can let myself hope that this is it, the moment she kisses me or lets me kiss her, she’s already pulling away, dropping my hand from hers and leaving me aching.

  “Tonight,” she promises.

  Not wanting to follow too closely, I stay put in the clearing. I check my phone while Rosie takes off toward the other side of town. I’m in no real hurry to get home, so I don’t mind staying behind for a few more minutes.

  Looking out to the lake, a wave of realization hits me. I hate the feeling of hiding something from my family, especially something that feels this big. Even being around my sisters feels like I’m lying to them. The only thing worse than this feeling would be having one of them realize I’m acting differently and ask me what’s wrong. Then I’d have to lie to them for real, at least until I know what it is I have to tell them. When the time is right, I’ll have to tell them that I’m more than just an experiment to Rosie. I’m more than just something to make her summer more interesting. At least, I hope that’s the case.

  I start towards home with that one horrible thought fresh in my mind. I hate that the idea even occurred to me. Rosie’s not like that. Yet, as I make my way back through the quiet streets of Fairview, the thought is always there in the back of my mind. Rosie and I...we talk about art, and TV shows, and people we know.

  There are moments when I can feel the tension between us. I also feel the touches that could be innocent, if it weren’t for the way Rosie’s eyes always seem to find their way to mine in their nervous but caring way.

  We’ve never talked about the big stuff. Or, at least, Rosie hasn’t. I’ve casually mentioned my first kiss, with a girl, but Rosie has never actually said she likes me like that. Or likes girls like that, for that matter. If anything remotely related to dating comes up, all of the confidence Rosie carries with her and the ease we share between us is gone. At least for a while.

  So I wait. Keep secrets. Loving every second of it when I imagine this as the secretive beginning to a perfect summer romance, stretching into senior year and beyond.

  “Hi there, Rhiannon,” Mrs. Kennies says, smiling as I pass by her house. I slow to admire her garden in full bloom.

  “Hello.”

  There’s no point in correcting her. She gets my name right less than one in four times and really, what does it matter what she calls me? Reece is half-convinced she can tell my sisters and me apart perfectly, and has just been messing with us ever since we moved in. Since I’m not about to call her out on it one way or the other, I wave as I pass and keep my mouth shut.

  I come home to a large van sitting in our driveway, quickly slipping inside to find my family. My sisters and I live with our parents in one of Fairview’s oldest houses, though it’s not technically ours. Ever since the town was founded, this house has been earmarked for the official town doctor, a job my mom took on two years ago now. She moved our entire family from Richmond to Fairview with almost no warning at all.

  At the time, it felt like the end of the world. Looking back, that year and that summer will always kind of feel like the best thing that ever happened to us.

  From the front door, I can see all five of my family members sitting around the dining room table, talking over one another so loudly that our dog Molly has curled up in the hallway for a little peace and quiet.

  “Hello?” I call out, my voice only joining the noise. I kick my shoes off and head into the chaos.

  “Reilly, you’re here!” Reece calls out, catching my eye. Immediately, her head whips from me to our mom. “She’s here. We can decide now.”

  With a quick glance among my sisters, I notice that they all wear eerily similar expressions that are both energetic and eager. I’ve missed something big by going out this afternoon.

  “Does this have something to do with the van that’s here?” I ask, di
recting the question at Mom. The few wrinkles that line her eyes crinkle upward as she smiles. God, are we moving again?

  No.

  I dismiss the thought almost as soon as it arrives. There was a time when my sisters would have jumped all over the idea. That’s not the case anymore. We have lives here now.

  “We were going to wait until a few weeks before you all started senior year, but Mr. Hammonds called this morning and said he could fit us in now.”

  Mr. Hammonds? My brain tries to make any sort of connection to get to the answer as my family draws out my torture. I come up empty handed.

  “They’re renovating the attic!” Rhiannon blurts out, always the first one to get to the point. “We’re getting our own rooms!”

  “What?!” I ask automatically as my eyes search both my parent’s faces for any hint that she’s wrong. Neither of them contradict her.

  The second floor of our house has three bedrooms: my parents’ on one side, then two more connected by a bathroom. I’ve been sharing with Reece since we moved in, while Reagan and Rhiannon share the other. There’s also an attic that’s almost the same size as the second floor. We’ve been asking to turn it into bedrooms almost since day one, and my parents have always had some reason or another to say no.

  Until now.

  “They’ve already started,” Dad adds. “It’ll be a few weeks still, but we think it’ll be good for all of you to get used to having your own space before you leave home next year. We made sure to follow the town's guidelines for making changes to historic houses, so they approved our changes with no problem. Volunteering to pay for the project probably didn’t hurt either.”

  “Okay...” Reece says, raising her eyebrows accusingly at Dad, “...that’s not quite true. There’s a catch. The town is letting us to make these changes because of something else too, right Mom?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mom says in a tone that promises she isn’t sorry at all. “You’re free to say no if you’d prefer to keep things the way they are.”

  “Nope.” Reece throws her hands up in surrender. “I think adding bedrooms is a great idea. Best idea ever.”