FOURTEEN ROWAN

FOURTEEN

Rowan

THE FRIDAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING brEAK, we only have school until one. Class times are cut in half and those of us who are still in class—a lot of people have already left—are completely checked out and not paying attention. The teachers realize this and don’t make us do much on this last day. Makes me wish we would’ve left first thing in the morning for home but my little brother didn’t want to.

Once school is over, I head to my room. We’re all meeting the driver who’s taking us home out in the front parking lot at one thirty. I texted Pat and asked him to come to my room and help me carry out my luggage, and he’s already there, waiting for me. I only have one suitcase and a duffel bag, but it’s a bitch with the boot and Pat never minds helping us out.

We stop off so he can grab Beau’s suitcase too, and my brother and I follow Pat to the parking lot, Beau talking a mile a minute.

“I’m so freaking mad. I don’t want to leave. Mom and Dad are making me come home. I tried telling them I had other plans but they wouldn’t hear it,” Beau says, sounding pissed.

“What other plans did you have? Staying here?”

“No, of course not. Cecilia Bancroft invited me to her parents’ house in Cape Cod. A lot of people from my class are going. They’re doing a tour of where the Mayflower first landed and everything.” His bitter disappointment at not being able to go rings in every word he says.

“You want to go on a tour of where the Mayflower landed?” That sounds fucking lame but I’m not going to say that out loud.

“That’s not the point. I wanted to hang out with CeCe.” Beau sends me a quick look. “She’s hot.”

“Uh huh.”

“Mom was like, no way. Dad just went along with her because he always does.” Beau kicks at a rock, sending it skittering across the walkway. “They treat me like a baby.”

“You’re only fifteen,” I point out, and he shakes his head furiously.

“You were out fucking around and doing whatever you wanted when you were fifteen,” he says. “But Mom always thinks of me as her baby.”

“You are her baby.”

“Yeah, and I hate it.” He sounds miserable. “What’s your problem anyway? Are you sad because Cal’s not coming home with you? I know I’m going to miss him. He makes you less grumpy.”

“Ha ha, real funny, motherfucker.” I reach for Beau, scrubbing the top of his head, and he ducks away from my hand, scowling at me.

Realization hits. My brother is going to be even more pissed when he finds out who I’m bringing home instead of Callahan.

“See? Already giving me shit and we haven’t even left campus yet.” Beau glares at me.

“I’m always giving you shit.”

“I know, and it sucks,” Beau grumbles, a sulky expression on his face. It’s weird how much he looks like Mom. If he grew his hair out long, he’d look exactly like her. And he’s right. Mom does treat him like a baby. She’s extremely overprotective of him, and Dad is always telling her to relax, which only makes her mad.

Dad should know better than to tell any woman—especially his wife—to relax.

As we approach the giant black SUV, I realize Arabella is already there waiting beside it, three giant suitcases surrounding her.

Three.

Artie the groundskeeper is just behind the car, sitting in his golf cart. The moment he spots us, he salutes Arabella before taking off. “Have a good time on your break, Miss!”

“Who the hell is that?” Beau asks, sounding downright hostile.

“Relax.” I slap him in the chest, annoyed. “That’s Arabella. She’s a friend.”

“Your friend? Is that what you’re calling them now?”

“She’s a friend,” I repeat firmly. “We’re not dating.”

“Do you date anyone?”

Not really.

“And Mom is cool with this?” When I shrug, Beau looks ready to punch something. Or someone. “Such bullshit! She’s a hypocrite.”

“I’m eighteen,” I remind him. “And like I said, nothing is happening between Bells and me.”

“Right. You just have a nickname for her, and she’s bringing three suitcases because you two are friendly .” Beau shakes his head. “Looks more like she’s moving in.”

“She’s into fashion.”

“And you’re into her?”

“Beau …”

“What? Does it make you mad I’m asking you that?”

My fucking brother knows how to get under my skin. He’s so annoying.

“This will be interesting,” Beau mutters, raising his voice when we draw closer to where Arabella stands. “You going to introduce me to your girlfriend, Row?”

I growl but no one notices.

“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend. But hi, hi! You’re Beau. We’ve passed by each other on campus but I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.” Arabella rushes toward my brother, enveloping him in a big hug.

Beau just takes it, seemingly surprised by her enthusiastic greeting, and eventually he wraps his arms around her, patting her back awkwardly.

Another growl escapes me. I can’t help it. I don’t like seeing another guy touch her, even if it’s my little brother, which is stupid. Since when did I turn into such a territorial asshole over my so-called friend?

Arabella pulls out of Beau’s embrace and makes her way toward me, shading her eyes with her hand. It’s unusually sunny after the last couple of stormy days that were nothing but rain, though the air is crisp and cold. She’s bundled up in a thick brown coat that makes her look like a teddy bear.

“Hello, Rowan.”

“Three suitcases, Bells?”

She shrugs. “I wanted to be prepared.”

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to fit it all in the car.”

Her eyes go wide behind her glasses. “I didn’t even think of that. Should I take one of the suitcases back to my room?”

“I’m joking.”

“Oh.” She drops her hand, glancing over her shoulder to study the three suitcases before returning her attention to me. “I completely overpacked.”

“You did.” I glance down at my single carry-on sized suitcase. “But don’t base your overpacking on this. I have stuff at home.”

“True.” Her smile is kind of sad. “I’m used to bringing large suitcases everywhere I go. I never feel like I have a permanent home.”

Fuck, that is heartbreaking.

“Come on, you two,” Beau groans. “Tell me the truth. You’re fucking on the low.”

I snarl. Bells actually gasps, resting her hand against her chest.

“Beaumont Lancaster, you did not just say that,” Arabella chastises before I can manage to form words.

“How do you know my full name?” He sounds freaked out.

“I did my research.” She lifts her chin, fiery yet dignified. “You shouldn’t speak so … bluntly.”

“Aw, come on. You two act like you’re together.”

“We absolutely do not,” Arabella tells my brother without hesitation, which makes me chuckle. “I drive Rowan crazy most of the time.”

“Doesn’t take much. His tolerance level is low for pretty much everyone,” Beau notes.

Arabella glances over at me. “You’re right, Beau. He’s actually the worst.”

“No shit, huh? He’s also mean to me,” Beau adds, eating up the fact that Arabella is paying attention to him—and acting like she’s on his side. “I could tell you stories.”

“You better not tell her any stories,” I say, thrusting my index finger at him.

“Rowan, be nice to your brother.” Arabella grins, just before she gives a high five to Beau.

Great. Now they’re ganging up on me.

We pile into the car after Beau helps Pat add the luggage to the back. I would do it but I’m taking advantage of my injury and besides, it’s about damn time Beau steps up. We may have servants but our parents haven’t raised us to be completely helpless.

We all slide into the middle seat, Arabella in between us, her body snug against mine.

“Buckle up,” Pat says once he’s in the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

Arabella pulls the seat belt across her front, looking for the latch to lock it into place. “I can’t find it.”

I help her, my fingers brushing her hip as I take the seat belt from her. I slide the belt into place, my knuckles up against the side of her ass and I linger there, making it seem like I need to even though I don’t.

I’m just trying to touch her. See if she has any sort of visceral reaction. And she doesn’t disappoint. I hear the soft intake of breath. The way it catches. How she shifts ever so slightly to get a little closer to my hand.

Or maybe that’s all in my imagination. I can’t tell.

“You guys comfortable back there?” Pat asks before he takes off. “Can’t use the back seat thanks to all the luggage.”

“That’s my fault. Sorry,” Arabella murmurs.

Pat just chuckles. “No worries. But if one of you wants to sit in the passenger seat, it’s open.”

“I’m fine.” Beau bunches up his navy Lancaster Prep sweatshirt he was wearing only moments ago and pins it against the door with his head as a makeshift pillow. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“I’m okay,” I say, glancing over at Arabella. “How about you?”

“This is fine.” She nods, smiling. “It’s perfect.”

I stare at her full lips. Take in her whole face. Today’s glasses have bright red frames, and her big brown eyes are sparkling with pure hope.

I’m suddenly aware that everything between Bells and me might change this week. And that could be a good thing or it could end up being …

Really bad.