THIRTY-SIX ARABELLA

THIRTY-SIX

Arabella

WE SNEAK back into the house around one thirty, going in through the door that’s off the kitchen and running up the back staircase, me giggling the entire time while Rowan is constantly shushing me. I’m not afraid of getting caught. I don’t think Wren would mind if we came back early, but Row is all twisted up over it and wants us to be quiet.

Whatever.

I’m still full of pride over that BJ I gave him. Talk about epic. Talk about feeling like a complete slut, though I always remind myself I’m only a slut for him. For my Rowan.

That’s how I think of him lately. Mine. He’s my favorite person in the entire world. I’ve had a crush on him for years and even wondered if it was love—not that I have any experience dealing with that emotion. But truly, I think it was more that I was in love with the idea of him. The persona he puts on at school. His extraordinary good looks and the way he moves. How I’d catch him looking at me the last few months—since we started our senior year—and saw interest in his gaze. Hunger. It wasn’t just one-sided between us.

Obviously.

Now that we’ve become closer, I am without a doubt completely in love with him. This isn’t a schoolgirl crush. This feels like the real deal. At least, I think it does. I don’t have the best gauge when it comes to love.

“I need to get ready,” I tell him once we’re in the corridor where our bedrooms are. “Like take a shower, do my hair. Put on some makeup.”

I want to look pretty—and I packed an outfit for a special occasion because I had a feeling that I’d need it. I am an overpacker and most of the time, it works to my advantage.

“Okay.” He props his shoulder against the wall, watching me as I open my bedroom door. “Want to text me when you’re done and we can head downstairs together?”

Smiling brightly, I blurt, “Sure!” Waving, I push the door open farther and practically run into the room, slamming it behind me and turning the lock.

I swear I hear him chuckle as he walks away.

All I can do is stand there for a moment and breathe. Collect my thoughts. Ponder over my earlier realization that I am in love with Rowan, which is exactly what I told myself I should not do. But as per usual, I went ahead and fell for him anyway.

How could I resist him? Not only is he wonderful and sweet and totally into me, but his family is wonderful too. And this house. They must sprinkle magic pixie dust in every room and even outside because it’s exhilarating just spending time here.

As if I’m wrapped up in this delicious warm cocoon that I never want to leave. I wish these people were my family and that I belonged here for real. Not as a guest but as an actual member of their family.

A Lancaster.

But I’m not and I certainly can’t entertain ludicrous thoughts like marrying Rowan. I am eighteen today and already contemplating marriage? Who am I?

A girl in love , whispers a tiny voice inside me.

More like a girl who’s lost her common sense. I need to focus on the positives in my life, and while Rowan is one of them, there are many other good things happening to me.

Pushing away from the door, I make my way over to the closet and thumb through the clothes I brought with me, pulling out the dress I plan on wearing to my party. It might be a little over the top but that’s my usual style wherever I go, meaning I’m staying on brand.

It’s red and short, with straps that tie on my shoulders and a little flounce at the hem. It’s pretty yet a little bit sexy, and I hope Rowan swallows his tongue when he sees me in it.

Well, not literally, but I am eager to see his reaction. And I’m not wearing anything underneath it either.

Happy Birthday to me.

I’ M TRYING to do my hair in the bathroom, clad only in a plush terrycloth robe that was in the room when I got here when I hear a knock on my door.

Setting the hairdryer on the counter, I rush to the door, fully expecting it to be Rowan waiting for me but it’s not.

It’s Beau, wearing a grimace on his face as he peers around the massive flower bouquet that he’s carrying.

“These came for you.” He thrusts them toward me, and I have no other option but to take the heavy arrangement. “See ya.”

“Wait!” He stops, turning to look at me. “Who sent these?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. His grumpy attitude is reminding me of his older brother and I can’t help but find it endearing. “A delivery guy dropped them off and Mom said I had to bring them to you.”

“Thank you.” I smile at him, but he doesn’t smile back. “Beau, I have a question.”

His expression turns wary. “What is it?”

“Do you hate me?”

Eyes going wide, he furiously shakes his head. “No. No way. I barely know you, Arabella. How can I hate you?”

“Well, you’re grumpy every time you’re around me and you don’t seem to like talking to me either.” I clutch the flowers closer—they are gorgeous, mostly deep red roses and they remind me of my dress—and wait for his answer. I’m tired of dealing with grouchy Lancaster men. They need to be called out on their shit, even if they’re only sixteen or however old Beau is.

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling his feet and keeping his gaze downcast. Like he doesn’t want to look at me. “I guess I’m still mad that I didn’t get to do what I wanted for Thanksgiving break and my brother is allowed to have you over so you two can hook up anywhere you can in the house.”

I peek out of the doorway, checking the corridor to make sure no one else is around before I wave my free hand at Beau. “Come inside, please.”

His eyes wide, he follows me into my room, shutting the door behind him. I set the flower arrangement on the desk and turn to face him, resting my hands on my hips. Feeling stern and like I’m about to drop a big ol’ lecture, which he deserves.

“Look, Beau. I know you think Rowan and I are together, but we’re actually not. And while yes, I’ve had a crush on him and I’m grateful that we’ve become closer this week, Rowan’s initial intention to invite me to your house—which is lovely, by the way—was as a friend. He felt sorry for me because I was supposed to stay on campus all week by myself.”

Beau frowns. “By yourself? Where’s your family?”

“My parents live in Hong Kong, and I have no brothers or sisters.” I force a smile, hating how fragile I feel, making that confession. “Consider yourself lucky that you have parents who love you and your family that’s so close. I wish I had what you have.”

He blinks at me, quiet, and I’m sure I rendered him silent thanks to what I said. Well good. He’s so wrapped up in his own problems, he deserves to see that other people have issues too.

“And I’ve seen the real Plymouth Rock,” I add. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone loves telling me that. It had nothing to do with that stupid rock and everything to do with the girl.”

“If she likes you as much as you seem to like her, she’ll still be into you when we all go back to campus. And if she isn’t? Then that’s her loss. I happen to think you’re a catch.”

He stands up taller, puffing out his chest. “You do?”

“You’re a Lancaster, Beau. Don’t ever forget it.” I make my way back to the door and hold it open. “Thank you for bringing the flowers, but I need to finish getting ready for my party. You’re going, right?”

Beau slowly approaches the open door, stopping in front of me with the most earnest expression on his face, all traces of his anger gone. “I wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for the pep talk, Arabella.”

My smile is easy. “Anytime, Beau. See you in a bit.”

Another door swings open, Beau glancing to his right, and I do the same. Rowan is standing outside his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, his skin still damp, like he just sprinted out of the bathroom to find out who’s in the hallway.

“What are you guys talking about?” His tone is casual though his body is tense and he’s gripping the side of his towel like it’s about to fall off at any second.

“Arabella got flowers for her birthday and Mom had me bring them up to her.” Beau sends me a quick look before he says, “Bye.”

He practically runs away, and I turn to face Rowan, amusement curling my lips. “You scared him.”

“Good,” Rowan grunts. “He should be used to it. I’ve scared him all his life.”

“You’re a mean brother.”

“Not really.” He shrugs, drawing my attention to his very naked chest. My gaze drops to the front of his towel and I think I can see the outline of his dick beneath it, but maybe that’s my wild imagination playing tricks on me.

“You’re also indecent.” I wave a hand at him. “Put some clothes on.”

His grin is strong enough to melt the panties straight off my body, if I were wearing any. “I thought you liked me this way best.”

“Not at the moment.” I rest my hands on my hips, much like I did in front of Beau not even a few minutes ago. “You’re a distraction when I need to get ready.”

“I can help you get ready.” He puts the most innocent look I think I’ve ever seen on his face, but I know it’s a ruse. “If you need me.”

I always need him. My body is swaying like a flower outside seeking the sun. He is my sun and I am the flower that blooms only when he’s shining his light—his smile, his attention—upon me.

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you.” I shake my head and make my way back into my room, peeking around the door to find he hasn’t moved. “I’ll text you when I’m ready, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmurs, his gaze soaking me up, and I believe him.

Flashing a quick smile at him, I close the door, my gaze snagging on the flower arrangement. I make my way over to it, bending close to one of the roses and breathing in its rich, fragrant scent. Spotting a small envelope, I pluck it from the plastic stand and tear it open to find a card inside, the message typed out.

H APPY B IRTHDAY , Bells. I hope it’s the best day—you deserve it.

Xo,

Rowan

I CRUSH the card to my chest, closing my eyes. Of course, he sent me flowers. Of course, he hopes it’s the best day and that I deserve it. He’s trying to make me fall deeper in love with him and it’s working. I can’t resist him. I can’t.

For the rest of my time here—and it is tragically limited—I am going to throw myself headfirst into everything. I am going to make this birthday the best day ever, and once we’re back at Lancaster Prep, maybe then I’ll try to create some distance between us. If I’m strong enough.

Though I’m probably not. I cannot resist him, and I think he feels the same way about me. We have become so completely intertwined with each other in such a rapid amount of time; I can’t imagine me without him. It’s going to hurt when I leave for Paris. So much.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive it.