by Box Set
“Not that one,” said someone behind me, scaring me half to death.
I gasped and spun around to see a guy leaning casually against a large push broom as he smiled my way.
“You startled me,” I said.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, but you were probably about to get bit. I figured you’d want to avoid that.”
I glanced back at the horse I’d been about to touch. He looked innocent enough, gazing at me with his chocolaty brown eyes and long lashes.
“I know, he looks like a peach,” the guy said, pushing his broom across the floor, kicking up dust. “But that’s how he draws you in and then CHOMP, he’s taken a chunk out of you. He’s mean.”
“So why’s he here?” I asked.
The dark-haired guy, who wore faded jeans and a gray long-sleeved t-shirt with the Rosewood logo on it, pushed his broom again, the bristles making a swishing noise across the floor. “Just is.” Then he looked up at me. “Why are you here?”
The way he looked at me, almost through me, made me look away. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around horses and I guess I missed them.”
Swish, swish, swish.
“So you work here?” I asked, realizing it was a lame question with an obvious answer, but I felt like I needed to fill the silence and that was all my brain could come up with on short notice.
“Seems so,” he said. Swish, swish, swish. “Name’s Brady.”
I stepped over to him and stuck out my hand. “I’m Brooklyn. Nice to meet you.”
As his large, warm hand enveloped mine, I looked into his eyes and realized he wasn’t that old; maybe eighteen or nineteen.
“Brooklyn, like the borough?”
I tried not to think too hard about it, remembering how Chelly said she got her name. “Yes.”
“That’s nice.”
“Thank you,” I said, pulling my eyes away from his intense gaze, realizing as I did that he was still holding my hand. I took it out of his grasp and turned back toward the horses. “So which ones can I touch?”
I heard a gentle clatter and realized he’d put the broom down. “Come,” he said as he walked past me toward the horses. I didn’t think but to follow him.
He stopped at the first stall, giving the bay a wide berth. “This is Sir Lancelot, a.k.a. Sir Bitesalot, steer clear.”
I smiled and nodded. “Got it.”
He pointed across the way but I had to peek in through the door to see the horse standing at the back of the stall who looked like she was dozing. “That’s Proud Mary; she’s sweet, but old. Mostly she’s retired.”
He moved to the next set of doors. “This fine roan is Charlie. He’s a real ladies man.” Brady confidently placed his palm on the nose of the curious horse who nodded his head, like he knew he was being talked about and heartily agreed.
I laughed. “You’ve got him pegged.”
I stepped closer and lay my own palm on the velvet muzzle. Charlie nickered and nuzzled my hand. I looked up at Brady who, I realized, was standing very close. “I see what you mean.”
He smiled down at me. “Told you. Next thing you know, the two of you will be riding off into the sunset. He knows how to treat a lady, that’s for sure.”
“We’re not that complicated,” I said. “Ladies, that is. Guys just need to figure out what we want and then when they deliver, we’re putty.” Where did that come from? I wondered, but held his gaze.
Brady’s eyes widened for half a second and his tanned face suddenly looked a bit more ruddy than it had a second ago, but he didn’t say anything. I liked that I was able to make him blush. And I was starting to think I was getting good at this flirting thing; first Will and now this guy.
He stepped to the next stall and stopped, waiting for me to follow. I gave Charlie a final pat and caught up. “This is Poppy and across the way is her best friend, Daisy. They’re both sweethearts and great for beginners, which I’m guessing you’re not.”
I shook my head. “Eight years of lessons.”
“English or Western?”
“English. Dressage. Five blue ribbons.” Yes, I was bragging, and maybe the blue ribbons were won at my own stable’s tiny events, but they still counted—it’s not like this guy was going to track them down.
His eyebrows lifted as he nodded. “Impressive. Are you going to be on the team here?”
My heart fluttered a little at the thought of joining a team and competing. I was a bit rusty, but had been pretty good back in the day. “I just arrived today, but I didn’t know there was one. Who is the coach?”
“Fleming. You’ll like him, but he’s tough. Sign up at the office. During business hours, of course,” he added. “He’ll want to talk to you about your background and experience.”
“Thanks, well, I guess I should get back. And I don’t want to keep you,” I said; he probably wanted to finish up and get home as it was getting late. I gave Poppy’s soft nose a rub, laughing as she smacked her lips together playfully.
“Good to meet you, Brooklyn.”
I looked up. “And you,” I said, giving him a smile, noticing his eyes were the oddest shade of amber that were set off by his black hair. He was quite striking. Beautiful, even.
I realized I was staring and turned away quickly. “Thanks again. See you around,” I said and quickly left, hearing the swish, swish resume as I gently closed the door behind me.
Emmeline
It had been probably the most exhausting day of my life, save the day I moved to London and had jet lag on top of the whole ordeal of moving overseas. But starting a new school, being introduced to a bunch of new girls, unpacking, touring aforementioned new school, not to mention meeting the guy of your dreams, will wear you out completely.
So when your dorm room door swings open at two a.m., showering you with light from the hallway, you wake up from a dead sleep and have no idea where you are and who might be coming to attack you.
Luckily for the people in the rooms next to yours, you might even be so out of it that you forget to scream.
But after a couple of bleary-eyed blinks and a good yawn to get some oxygen to my brain, I realized the girl who had busted into my room had to be none other than my new roommate, Emmeline Somerville. And judging by the shapes behind her, her parents.
I sat up in bed, pulling the comforter up to my neck, not sure what to even say.
“Uh hi,” was my opener.
The light went on, causing me to squint for a moment.
“Sorry,” Emmeline (?) said in a very curt tone. “We had hoped not to be this late.”
“It was unavoidable,” the woman behind her added.
I nodded, still clutching the covers. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I took in my roommate as she drifted into the room. She looked exactly like what you would expect a trust-fund debutante to look like, although a bit disheveled after what must have been at least an entire day of travel. Her complexion looked just about perfect and her eye makeup looked better after who knows how many hours than mine looked five minutes after applying it. Her blond hair was knotted up in what looked like a very complicated twist, soft wisps framing her face and allowing her diamond earrings to show. She wore a diamond necklace to match and a dress that looked casual, but probably cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars off the rack. Even more than the rest of the girls at Rosewood, this girl oozed money.
And attitude.
Awesome.
I swallowed and ran my tongue around my teeth before I introduced myself. I should have shaken her parents’ hands, but I wasn’t about to get out of the bed wearing only a t-shirt and underwear. “I’m Brooklyn Prescott.”
The woman stepped over to me and shook my hand, “Mrs. Somerville and this is Emmeline and my husband, Mr. Somerville,” she indicated her husband who was arranging two enormous suitcases inside the door.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, but she’d already turned to her daughter and her father didn’t bother looking my way.<
br />
“We paid for a single room for you, Emmeline,” he said as he finished with the luggage and stood up.
Single room? I didn’t even know that was an option.
Emmeline huffed out a breath and looked like she was about to say something, but Mrs. Somerville interrupted. “Why are we major benefactors of this school, if we can’t be assured our daughter has a private room?”
“Mother…”
“I’ll call the dean,” Mrs. Somerville said digging into her purse. I couldn’t believe she was planning to call the dean now.
“Mother. I’m exhausted,” Emmeline snapped.
“Fine, I’ll do it in the morning.”
Emmeline turned to her father. “Thank you for bringing my things up.”
He nodded and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “We’ll get this straightened out in the morning.”
Emmeline nodded. “Fine. Thank you both for bringing me and for the summer in Europe. See you at Christmas.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, honey, we’ll be on the world cruise. But we can Skype.”
“Right,” Emmeline said, looking not the least bit disappointed. “I forgot. I’ll speak to you soon.”
Pulling her into a stiff hug, Mrs. Somerville looked at me over her shoulder when she said, “Yes. And we’ll get you out of this room as soon as we can.”
Which told me pretty much everything I needed to know about Emmeline Somerville. Without another word, I pulled the covers over my head and rolled toward the wall.
* * *
My alarm buzzed at 6:45 and as I reached for it to turn it off, I realized my groan was joined by another from across the room.
It almost scared the bejeepers out of me, until I remembered the night before. And Emmeline.
I peeked across the room and blinked as I realized she was staring back at me.
“Hi,” she said, sounding even more tired than she looked, which was quite the accomplishment.
“Hi,” I said back, cautious.
“Sorry. It was really late last night and now I forget your name.”
I wasn’t sure why it mattered since one of us was leaving, but I answered her anyway. “Brooklyn Prescott.”
“I’m Emmeline.”
Manners dictated I acknowledge her with a ‘nice to meet you’, but I was having some trouble getting the words out. I simply nodded and pushed the covers off me. “I guess I’ll see about getting my trunk brought up.”
She didn’t get up, but moved her head, cocking it so she could look up at me now that I was standing. “Why?”
“Because one of us is leaving, and I’m guessing it will be me.” Unless you’re moving to some sort of palace suite, I didn’t say. I turned away from her, heading to the bathroom, the one where I’d been so careful not to take up too much space with my things. All for nothing.
“Wait!” she said, her tone sharp.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
She sat up, the comforter falling, exposing her tank top and pooling in her lap. I was shocked to realize she’d made her bed—I would have just flopped down on the bare mattress if I’d come in so late after a whole day of travel.
Maybe even more surprising was that I’d been able to sleep through it all.
She scrubbed her hands over her face; she looked a lot more plain without all the diamonds and her hair down and in tangles, although she hadn’t bothered to take off her makeup, making her look like an angry raccoon. “Sorry. I’m so tired and jet-lagged. Don’t go. My parents were horrible to you and I think I was too, and I’m sorry for that. They are terrible snots at the best of times, let alone at one a.m. or whatever time it was that we barged in here last night.”
“It was after two,” I corrected.
She exhaled and looked up at me. “Two. I’m sorry. They were on my last nerve and I’m sure I came across like a horrible witch. I assure you, I’m not one, though I can’t say the same for my mother. Can we please start again?” she gave me a weak smile. “I’m Emmeline. Emmie to my friends, and I’d really like it if we were roommates. Please, please disregard my parents’ rudeness.”
“But you could have a private room,” I said, suddenly wondering if I hadn’t dreamed some of last night’s conversation.
“Yes, but I don’t want one. I want to be a normal girl here. Well,” she gave me a goofy grin. “As normal as any of us are.”
I gave her a smile. “Really? So I don’t have to pack?”
She shook her head. “Not for many months.”
I dropped back down onto my bed. “Thank God. It was a big enough job getting unpacked.”
Emmeline—Emmie—smiled and nodded toward her luggage. “That’s my job for today. I’m still exhausted but kind of wired; I’m still on France time. And based on your accent, you sound like you know what I’m talking about.”
I nodded. “Yes, but I’ve been in the States for a few days visiting my grandmother before I came to Rosewood. My parents are still back in London, but we’re originally from here.”
“I wish my parents could have sent me on my own,” she said, stretching her arms above her head until I heard one of her shoulders crack. “But they like to visit their investment at least once a year.” She ended her stretch and did air quotes around the word investment.
I frowned. “They consider you an investment?”
“Hardly,” she said, laughing. “The Somerville library is their contribution to the school. It’s the big red building in the back; a bunch of classrooms and a new library. They like to throw their money around and Mom attended here, so…” she waved her arm, not bothering to finish her sentence.
“What do your parents do?” I asked. They had to do something impressive to have funded their own building on campus.
She shrugged, “Fossil fuels mostly. You know, dig-up-dead-dinosaurs-and-kill-the-earth stuff.” She looked around the room obviously finished with that topic of conversation. “I guess I should start unpacking, although all I want to do is go back to bed.”
“Won’t they give you a break today since you just got in?” And you’re a VIP, I thought, but kept to myself.
She shook her head and stood up, stretching again, taking a few steps on her tiptoes. “I don’t want a break. I want to be like everyone else.” She combed her fingers through her hair and cringed. “And I can’t exactly let everyone see me like this, so I’d better get moving.”
It was still early; breakfast wasn’t until 8 and classes were starting late after our 9 a.m. welcome assembly with the dean, for this, our first day. “I can help you unpack,” I offered.
Emmie’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’d do that for me after how heinous my parents were to you last night?”
Smiling at her, I said, “Sure. I may be new around here, but your parents aren’t my roommates and from what I hear, Rosewoods look after each other.”
Emmie smiled back. “You are shockingly nice. Thank you.”
But what turned out to be shocking between us had absolutely nothing to do with me.
Emmeline Reinvented
Emmie pushed me toward the bathroom, telling me she needed a few minutes to wake up and get herself sorted, so I may as well shower and get ready for my day. Not needing extra encouragement to take a hot shower, I left her to it and enjoyed a nice long one, washing off the sleep and some of the stress over starting at a new school.
So far, Rosewood was turning out okay—the room mix-up had been solved quickly, the food had been good at dinner the night before (Celia had said with all the wealthy families, they couldn’t get away with anything less than a five star chef) and all the girls I’d met so far were really nice.
And then there was Will. As I dried my hair, I allowed myself to think about him and wondered when I’d get to see him again. Chelly had said we’d have lots of opportunities to see the Westwood boys, but when?
I smirked at myself in the mirror; I was a little obsessed maybe, having met the guy once and already smitten. But that smile, the bl
ue eyes, the cut of his angular face, not to mention his sense of humor and the attention he gave me. Who wouldn’t be?
Although, if I was being honest, Evan, or Jenks, as Will had called him, was pretty fine, too. I normally wasn’t into gingers, but he was a cross between Prince Harry and that actor, Michael Fassbender, and with his dry sense of humor, he came in a close second and if Will turned out not to be interested or available, I wouldn’t be overly disappointed with him as a boyfriend.
And then there was the guy at the stables, Brady. He was enough to make a girl swoon with his dark hair and amber eyes. And that he loved horses was just an added bonus. But he was probably off limits; I figured staff weren’t allowed to date students, even though he seemed really young.
“Right, Brooklyn,” I said aloud to my reflection. “The new girl just walks in and gets her choice of cute guy.” Doubtful. Evan and Will probably had not given me another thought after they dropped me and my trunk at Celia’s room. And Brady probably just wanted to humor me and get me out of the stables so he could go home.
I finished up with my hair and started in on makeup turning my thoughts to more productive things, like worrying about my first day of classes.
A few minutes later, when I was finished, I stepped out into my bedroom to find I’d changed roommates again.
* * *
There was a girl sitting at Emmie’s desk, facing away from me. I couldn’t see her face, but it couldn’t be Emmeline with her long blond hair—this girl had short hair.
I looked around the corner to see if Emmie was in the closet, putting stuff away, but no. I looked back at the girl. She had a pixie cut that didn’t even cover her neck. Well, it did, in places, but to be frank, it looked like she’d pulled it all into a ponytail and hacked it off.
But as she turned around to face me, I realized that’s exactly what she had done. It was Emmeline.
“What have you done?” I gasped, my hands lifting to my mouth involuntarily. I mean, this girl didn’t seem manic, but what else would make her cut her hair like that?
