Entangled (A Tryst Novel)

by Alex Rosa

  I shake my head, grabbing for her hands, peeling them away from her face as I laugh. “No Dad, he’s out of the picture. Just a mom, and my brother, Chase.”

  “Brother!” she shrieks, aghast.

  The loudspeaker announces they’re boarding our flight, and I tug her forward as I lean down to grab her luggage. “Yeah, a younger brother. He’s about nineteen now.” I pause, giving her a stern once-over from head to toe with a wry smirk. “Why is it you look more terrified to meet my brother more than my mom?”

  She giggles, shaking her head. “Because, I can’t imagine having to handle two of you.”

  I grumble, finding the thrum of jealousy that springs up my spine absolutely absurd, which only ignites Skyler’s hysterical laughter.

  “Let’s not talk about that. How about we talk about your future?”

  She smiles as we approach the flight attendant. “You mean our future.”

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Tryst, available now from InterMix.

  I watch my brother, Josh, burden himself with my belongings. His tall, lean frame scrambles by me, and his short black hair is damp with sweat. Why he chose to wear a tight V-neck sweater and jeans in the August heat is beyond me. I sigh as I swing my backpack over my shoulder. Josh is trying to manage a box and my luggage as we enter through the front door. He stumbles into the living room, and I remember that, though my brother is suave on the surface, clumsiness is genetic.

  I love that Josh cares, but it can be overwhelming sometimes. It does make me smile that he’s so excited to let me live with him for a while. I should consider myself lucky. Sometimes I think he believes he owes it to me because he was gone so long for school, but it’s not as if we grew apart. He’s a twenty-seven-year-old business professional. Even the title makes me giggle, but he definitely has made a name for himself as an agent for some big-shot Hollywood talent agency. From what he’s told me, he has some famous clientele. He won’t tell me anything else about them, which I think is silly.

  I set my backpack on the coffee table and finally turn my head to give this place a good look. Jeez, it’s nice in here, nothing like my shitty apartment in Orange County. His place is modern, minimal, and mostly white, with little contrast other than the large red sofa and love seat that face a large flat-screen TV. The place is not necessarily lacking in ‘bachelor pad,’ with a glowing red neon beer sign on the back wall, and black-and-white photographs of LA’s skyline.

  I guess I knew my brother was never struggling for money. In a way, it makes me curious why he even has a roommate.

  Josh interrupts my thoughts. He’s giddy, the corners of his mouth reaching from ear to ear, and it makes me smile, too. “I’m going to grab the last of your stuff, okay?” Before I can answer, he’s already out the door.

  I’m glad my presence makes him happy. I feel like I am intruding on his bachelor life. Who wants to have their little twenty-two-year-old sister living with them?

  I realize I’m parched. The large living room opens into the kitchen, where a dark granite island and counters greet me. The kitchen is spotless, with minimal kitchenware—a toaster, coffeemaker, and of course, a stainless-steel fridge. I wonder if this place is clean only because they knew I would be arriving. That would be something Josh would do.

  I open cabinets, searching for a glass, and on the second attempt, a voice startles me.

  “Cups are on the right, near the fridge.”

  I turn around, and my breath catches in my throat at the sight. A barely dressed boy—er, man?—is standing there, idly watching me.

  “Um, thank you.” I grab a glass and fill it with water.

  He gives me this all-American-boy grin, seeming to enjoy my obvious discomfort. “No problem. Skyler, isn’t it?”

  I take a sip and respond. “Yes. Roommate, I presume?” Getting those words out wasn’t so hard. As I wait for his response, my eyes drag down to his tan, toned physique, and I linger a little too long on the V at the edge of his navy-blue boxer briefs.

  His voice brings me back to his stark, forest-colored eyes that complement his dark brown hair. Those eyes are distracting.

  “I’ve got a name. Blake. Blake Everett. Nice to meet you.”

  Was that a hint of attitude? Without a second thought and no shame, he leans his half-naked body over and raises his hand to shake mine. I can tell he’s enjoying this, and it only makes me feel uneasier.

  I shake his hand as confidently as possible, and my imbedded manners kick in. “Nice to meet you too, Blake. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

  He smirks, and I notice him giving me the once-over. I suddenly wish I wore nicer jeans rather than a torn-up pair. I don’t like the feeling of being under his judgmental eyes, because I am nowhere near able to compare to this Greek god. I run my hands through my curly black hair, and wish I’d brushed it before leaving this morning. He’s so pretty it hurts.

  I’m aching to hear some sort of response, but I’m not sure he has one. I worry that I’m not welcome, but as he opens his mouth to respond, a voice from a bedroom down the hall interrupts. It’s high-pitched and squeaky.

  “Blaaaaaaakkkeee, I’m thirsty. Come love me now!”

  I flush crimson, realizing the implications of the whiny girl voice and his attire. If I am not mistaken, he flushes, too, but the arrogant smirk remains. Why are his lips so distracting?

  He laughs, no doubt over my shocked expression, and then shrugs as if that explains everything.

  “You mind if I take this?” he asks. He snatches the glass of water out of my hand, takes a quick sip, and winks at me. With that, he turns on his heels and walks back toward his bedroom. I hear his door shut.

  He has me fuming. What an asshole is the only thought I can muster. That water was mine, not for some floozy he’s bedding. I take a deep breath, annoyed with my body’s hormones and with myself.

  I hear Josh coming in through the front door, and I try to gather my equilibrium. He appears in the kitchen and utters the same statement that Blake made moments before. “Cups are on the far right next to the fridge.”

  I scowl. “I’m aware. Thanks.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa, what’s wrong with you all of a sudden?”

  “Nothing. I just met your roommate. He’s kind of a character.” Be cool.

  As if completely understanding what I mean, he nods.

  I can’t help myself, and continue, “You know he has a girl in his room right now?”

  Josh smirks, which is a response I wasn’t expecting. “I hate to say it, but you might want to get used to that.” He sighs. “I hate that I’m bringing you into this environment.”

  Environment? “Josh, I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult. This environment is fine. I’m a college student, for Christ’s sake. It just caught me off guard, okay?”

  The thought of bringing a guy home with me seems so far out of reach. No matter what environment I’m in, my overprotective brother will probably throw him out. Then I wonder if he brings girls home, which is weird.

  He raises his hands in mock defense. “I’d hate to have to witness you bringing dudes home, but”—he winces at his words—“you’re an adult, and it’s whatever.”

  I laugh and raise an eyebrow. “It’s ‘whatever’?”

  He shakes his head, laughing. “Yeah, whatever. Just do me one favor.”

  This brother-sister powwow has me reeling. “What?”

  “Just don’t sleep with Blake. Like, ever. I mean it.” He squints as he says it, as if it’s weird to ask, and he’d be right.

  I let out a laugh at his request. “Please, Josh, that will never happen. Good-looking or not, he’s obviously not my type. What does he do anyway that he’s home midday on a Thursday? I’m assuming my GPA wouldn’t even consider him.”

  Josh visibly relaxes, and I wonder why but decide not to ask.

&nbs
p; “He’s an actor, model . . . whatever.”

  “There’s that word again: whatever. Do you represent him?”

  He shakes his head. “God, no. I mean, he’s my best friend, but I’m glad I don’t work with him, although his agent is from my firm. He does pretty well for himself, but he’s not my gig.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

  “Sometimes I forget how Hollywood you are.” I’ll stick to my MCAT prep and biology texts, thank you.

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Let me show you where you’re staying. It’s not as private as you might like, but hey, it’s a free room, right?”

  The corners of my lips rise and I follow him into the living room. There’s a staircase to the left. I follow him up the stairs to a generously sized loft that overlooks the first floor. I can see what he means about privacy. There’s a skylight in the high-vaulted ceiling, and it’s my only view of the outside world. There’s also a large bed with a stark white comforter and pillows. It looks comfy, kind of like a cloud. Then there’s a dark-wooded chest of drawers. A misplaced-looking desk is against the same wall with a vanity mirror above it.

  I smile at Josh as he looks to me for some sort of response.

  “It used to be the office, but to be honest, we never used it. I bought the bed and the dresser, and kind of put everything together quickly. I hope it’s okay. Oh, and check this out . . .” He walks past me to the far wall and pulls at a string holding back a maroon-colored curtain. He tugs at the curtain, pulling it toward me, and it becomes similar to a wall.

  “I couldn’t have my little sister out here in the open, ya know?”

  I can’t help myself. I lean in and hug my brother. He’s helped me more than he’ll ever realize. He hated my ex-boyfriend, and after what happened, he’s done everything possible to make the situation better. I’m lucky that I didn’t have to switch schools. Moving and finding a new job was easier to do with his support. I have absolutely no idea what I would do, or where I would be, without him.

  He hugs me back. “Everything will be okay, Sprout.”

  I smile at the endearment and let him go. “Thank you so much, Josh. I don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

  “Finish school. That’s all I ask.”

  “You sound like Dad.”

  At the mention of one of my parents, we both sigh inwardly, missing them instantaneously.

  Cutting through the tension like the knowing older brother he is, he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s bring your stuff up now.”

  ***

  I watch Josh place the last box in my bedroom.

  “Have you applied to med schools yet?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I have. I submit a few more applications in a couple of weeks, too.” There’s no way I’d miss those deadlines. I have worked too hard to give up now.

  “Good.”

  Jeez, always the responsible brother.

  I fidget in my seat. “Are you coming to my game this Saturday? It’s against Cornell.”

  “I’ll be there.” He smiles.

  I relax. I don’t want to swamp my brother with my soccer game schedule, but I figured he would at least want to see the game where we play his alma mater. I play for UCLA’s women’s soccer team, and because of soccer, I’m on nearly a full-ride scholarship for my bachelor’s degree. It’s my senior year, and my last season.

  I sigh, realizing the time. “I have to get to work.”

  “Ya know, Skyler, you don’t have to work. I would be willing to help you out while you go to school. I know you only have to pay for textbooks and all, but still.”

  I shake my head. “I will not burden you more than I have to, Josh. I should work. It keeps me busy and gives me some extra cash. I was working before, you know?”

  “I know. I just want you to focus on school. It’s not every day that someone in our family will be a doctor. I just want to make sure you’re successful.”

  I give him a playful jab in the arm. “Like you?”

  He shoves me back and rolls his eyes. “Your way is a whole hell of a lot more honorable.”

  “Stop it,” I say, and get up to get ready for work.

  When Alex Rosa isn’t scouring city parks or cafes to write, she is most likely trying to convince her friends to join her on her next adventure. A sufferer of wanderlust, she is always looking for a new mountain to climb, a canyon to hike, or a plane to board. Her résumé consists of coroner, zoo worker, and most recently executive assistant, but she finds her home amongst words, whether it is in books or in film. Her obsessions are on the brink of bizarre, but that’s just the way she likes it.

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