6. Rose
Chapter 6
Rose
“No one regards what is before his feet; we all gaze at the stars.” ― Quintus Ennius
“ D o you want Rose to blow on your balls, too?” August’s laughter died almost as quickly as it started when he looked at Briggs. The size in muscle mass alone was enough to make a shiver run down my spine as I looked at the clear bicep bulge his leather jacket failed to conceal. Briggs didn’t seem amused by August’s remark like all his friends were.
Not in the slightest.
“No,” he finally growled, sending another shiver through me.
August cleared his throat and pulled at the fabric of his ridiculous tropical button-up beneath his jacket. “Rose, can you get me a refill?” His voice squeaked on the last word and I stifled the nervous laugh that threatened to erupt from my throat.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the one to get her a refill?“ Briggs shot back as he took his turn. For once, I was happy the music inside had become so loud you could barely hear someone, say, from across a pool table. August just shrugged it off and readied his stick, ignoring his nearly empty glass. Normally, I’d be okay with doing things like that for him. In some twisted way, it made me feel seen by him. But Briggs was right about August’s misstep in chivalry, and my empty glass was still being just as ignored as Briggs’ comment was. I pulled my hand back from his cup.
I believed every girl put up with crap like this in the beginning. Except it wasn’t the beginning of August and I’s relationship. We’d been friends for so long, I hadn’t noticed any cracks in the foundation. Maybe that was ignorance, or maybe I was just a really good friend.
The rest of their pool game was eerily quiet, the only noise coming from August as he huffed out in frustration whenever he missed or every time Briggs got a ball into one of the holes. Which happened more times than I could keep track of .
Right before what I assumed would've been a winning shot by Briggs took place, August threw his stick on the floor and downed the last sip of beer from his glass. When he turned and walked away, grumbling something about a thrown game, his friends followed behind him with their empty glasses, leaving Briggs and me alone. My attention snapped over to Briggs when I heard a stick crack against a ball, and I watched as the ball bounced off three different places before hitting the other ball he intended to hit, sending it straight into a hole for the winning shot August didn’t care to be there for.
“Impressive.” Like everything else about him seemed to be.
Briggs smirked as he put the stick down on the table with a level of control that made August appear more toddler than man when he stormed off and I giggled a little at the differences.
His brows pinched together. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s just…” I motioned my arm around the table, then flung it back down at my side, unable to explain exactly what had set off my laughter without saying something rude about my best friend. “Never mind.”
Briggs put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the edge of the table with so much confidence that it was hard to picture him as the same guy I sat behind in high school. He was so different back then. “Did you learn anything?”
“Hmm?”
His smile flashed brightly in the dark. “Pool. Did you understand what was happening?”
“You hit the balls with the stick and aim for the holes, right? ”
He nodded. “Essentially. There are some rules, but they kept it simple because they knew it would go hand-in-hand with drinking. Hard to follow a lot of rules when you’re drunk.”
“Is that really why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But it makes sense, right?”
Some gorgeous, red-headed girl started waving at him beyond the glass and I jutted my chin towards her, making him glance over his shoulder. He let out a sigh and checked his watch, pushing off the pool table. The girl started flailing her arms and dancing erratically, either making a new type of dance or signaling something to him. I assumed it was the second one because he settled back down against the edge of the pool table.
“So…who is she?”
“A friend. We’re leaving soon.”
“Doesn’t look like she’s ready to go.” I cocked my head to the side, watching her drop down to the floor in stilettos that were way too expensive for the event she was at, if it could even be called that.
“No, she never is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.
I examined him, noticing he was nowhere near as tipsy as I was although I’d seen him take his fair share of beers over the last couple hours since he’d arrived. I’d reined back on the drinking ever since I’d gone out to the back porch and got sucked into watching two men compete in pool like it was a fight, for reasons I didn’t know, nor was I sure I wanted to, but I was ready to pick up the pace again. “You want to take some shots with me? ”
His eyes moved to the bar at the other end of the porch, where liquor bottles were lined up and half-full. There was another bar inside, but the one outside was mostly forgotten because of the cold weather, and as the night lingered on, it wasn’t getting any warmer.
“Sure.” He pushed off the table again as a gust of wind moved through, making goosebumps form on my skin and I shuddered. I should’ve taken one of the jackets from August’s closet earlier and ignored him when he said it would make us look like a couple. I shrugged it off then, but as I stood there in his backyard, cold and shivering, it seemed more and more like a dick move on his part.
“Are you cold?” Briggs’ voice was back to that hard, metal sound, like the one he used at the theater.
“I’ll be fine, I—”
“You’re shivering.” He quickly removed his leather jacket and then held it out towards me. “Take it,” he muttered, his eyes moving to the windows again.
“Thanks,” I said as he walked away. My arms slid into the sleeves, and I melted against the warmth. A strong smell of citrus enveloped me as I took in a deep breath. It was soothing, unlike the smell of August’s jackets which were soiled with cigarette smoke. I squeezed the edges of Briggs’ jacket and breathed in the scent one more time before Briggs turned around and walked back over to me, holding two shot glasses in both hands.
Because I’d asked for shots.
Plural.
Two shots in and I was feeling lighter. I wasn’t concentrating on how August was flirting with the girl who had walked in with Briggs. Well, not as much as I had been.
Briggs sat with his elbows propped on his knees, leaning forward in the Adirondack chairs we both sat on. His eyes followed mine to the window briefly. “You want to take a walk?”
“I might need another shot first.” My eyes fell back to the window over my shoulder. August was grinding against the ass of the red-head. Yet, Briggs didn’t flinch or scowl or seem predatorial at all towards her, which made it safe to believe they really were just friends, as he’d said.
“You dislike my company that much?” I ripped my eyes from August and the girl like a band-aid and snapped my head back to Briggs, feeling a rush of guilt roll through me. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk. “Kidding.”
“You’re full of jokes, aren’t you?”
“Well, you did make me take a couple of shots with you, and it doesn’t seem like my friend is ready to go. A walk sounded…nice.” He didn’t look back to check if what he said was true. Not like I did. When I pried my eyes away from them again, Briggs was standing with his arm extended. “So, a walk?”
“Why?” I shouldn’t have questioned it, but someone paying that much attention to me was new—let alone it being done by someone I barely knew .
“Do I need a reason to want to take a walk with a pretty girl?”
My cheeks flushed over. “Maybe.”
He sighed. “You look like you want to murder him. So, I’ll ask again. Will you take a walk with me?” His tone turned sharp. I bit down on my lip, and when I nodded, I didn’t glance back over my shoulder for the fiftieth time to check on my best friend.
August’s neighborhood was dotted with several rather large homes, each on at least an acre of land. There weren’t many streetlights, so walking with someone who was almost a stranger to me should have made me feel uneasy. But it didn’t. If anything, I felt more safe than I usually did. Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it wasn’t.
We made our way past August’s house, then another, before Briggs asked, “Does it feel better not looking at him?”
Kind of.
Okay, more than kind of.
It felt much better not wasting my time at a party that was getting me nowhere.
Instead of admitting that, I replied, “How’d you know that’s what I was doing? Maybe I was just watching your friend and her ridiculous dance moves.”
Briggs snorted. “She did look ridiculous.” He slid his hands into his jean pockets, slowing his strides to match mine. I cleared my throat, waiting for him to answer the other part of what I said, but when he didn’t, I started to fumble with my fingers. Was it always that transparent that I was watching August?
He finally broke the silence. “It’s kind of obvious—you, watching him. I think even he can see it, though I may be giving him too much credit in saying that.” His jaw flexed, and because I was still wearing his jacket, and his clothes were so well tailored to his body, I could see his black button-down stretch where his arm muscles tensed.
My voice hitched. “You think he knows?”
“I think whether he knows or not isn’t important. What’s important is that he’s an idiot for either one of those being true.” His green eyes latched onto mine before he dragged them down to my lips and then pulled away to look at the trees. We weren’t close to a street light, so maybe I was seeing things. And I was definitely tipsy. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be talking about August so openly with someone I barely knew.
I mulled over what he was saying wordlessly, my cheeks heating along with the rest of my body as I thought about the possibility of him watching my mouth and admitting August was an idiot for not taking any kind of action when it came to me. That is what he was saying, wasn’t it? I flapped the edges of Briggs’ jacket, trying to catch a breeze beneath it to cool my skin.
“Can I ask what you see in him or is that—”
“No,” I replied immediately, shutting that question down even as it bounced around in my head, seeking an answer I didn’t have.
“He doesn’t deserve to be given the time of day by you.” Briggs’ confidence was coming off as arrogance, and the shots weren’t helping. I could be an angry drunk at times unless I was with my friend Minnie. Then I was admittedly pretty fun. It really depended on who I was with, and Briggs was quickly working his way towards the wrong end of that spectrum.
“Excuse me? And what about you, huh? Who takes a girl like that to a party and says that’s their friend?” August wouldn’t have a friend that looked like that. He hooked up with girls like her and tried to hide it from me, not that I had a right to care that much about it because we were only friends, and he was free to do whatever he wanted. August reminded me of that fact often.
Briggs shrugged. “She’s my ex.”
My mouth popped open at his honesty before I snapped it shut. “Uhuh. So, you brought your ex-girlfriend to a party, to what, babysit her for no reason?” I raised my voice two octaves higher, making me sound jealous. But it was the alcohol.
He rubbed his lips in. “Actually, yes.”
“What does that even mean?” I folded my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the fact that I was still wearing his jacket as that citrus smell wafted up with my movement. Had she worn this jacket before, too? Why the hell did I care?
“That she’s my ex, or that I’m babysitting her?” His eyebrow cocked as we walked beneath a streetlight. He wasn’t fumbling over his words or shying away from answering my questions, and instead of making me more angry, it was almost…unnerving. August was never this forthcoming with me and I expected Briggs to go silent. But he didn’t.
“Both, if you’re being all Mr. Honesty and all.” Neither were any of my business .
He let out a chuckle, a soft indent along his cheek popping out in the moonlight as we moved further away from the artificial lights. His fingers slid through his hair, and as his watch glinted in that same moonlight that made his dimple more evident, I wondered if he was still keeping track of the remaining hour he said he had left.
“She cheated on me. A lot, actually. It was a long time ago. And her father is my father’s business partner. So yes, I’m babysitting her.” For someone being so honest, I felt like there were holes in what he was telling me. And the way he said ‘father’ was riddled with spite. Almost like he rehearsed saying it publicly but still couldn’t fight how the word made him feel.
“That’s it? She cheated on you and now you have to watch her act like that in front of other guys? Doesn’t that bother you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Not at all. We have almost nothing in common, and honestly , I can only stand being near her for a few minutes at a time. It’s always been like that.”
My nose scrunched up. “I think I may need more shots for how sorry I feel for you right now. Which is a lot. I’m such an asshole, and I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t hide the giggle that escaped me. I shouldn’t have laughed at what he said, but he didn’t seem hurt at all in bringing up what had happened between them. If anything, he seemed at ease.
“You apologize a lot for your actions. You shouldn’t.”
I bit down on my lip, but couldn’t help apologizing one more time. “Sorry.”
He laughed and I kind of wanted to hear it again. The way my body kept reacting to his words was making my brain warp. So much so that I didn’t notice we’d almost made a complete lap around August’s neighborhood and were nearing what I remembered to be Briggs’ car outside of the neighbor’s house.
“Why’d you park all the way over here?”
He glanced between his car and where I stood beside it. “Do you always ask whatever comes to your head?”
“I don’t have the best filter.”
“Good.” He took a few steps closer to me, his eyes tracking over my lips as they parted.
“Good?”
Briggs took another step closer, forcing my head back as he stared down at me like I was fascinating to him. “Very good.”
His hand lifted in the few inches between us, and my breath caught in my chest until a shrill voice came from the distance. “Briggsy! I found you!” The redhead bolted down the steps of August’s front porch down the road, shoes in hand. He sighed loudly and dropped his hand, taking a solid step back as she ran towards him. She looked like she was about to jump on him, but then he held out his arm, making her freeze in place and blow a raspberry at him. “Still no fun.” Her eyes circled my body along with her finger, not caring at all if the gesture was kind of rude with the way her face contorted. “Who’s this?”
“None of your—”
“Rose.” I held out my hand, which she eyed as if it were covered in shit before she stuck two fingers out, making me shake her hand in the most awkward way possible .
“Clarissa, pleasure.” She grimaced. Briggs’ whole body seemed to tense, some switch turning on in her presence I hadn’t felt come from him before. It made my skin crawl. She eyed his jacket, then looked over at him and smirked as she tossed her shoes over her shoulder, pointing back at the house with them. “I’m staying longer. Why don’t you take Rosie here home?”
“It’s Rose,” Briggs and I said in unison, which only made the ex-girlfriend laugh. She turned away, shouting something about having fun and not to bother getting her until she called later as if he was some kind of errand boy at her beck and call.
“Wow. Um…” My mouth hung open, watching her fumble back into the house—August’s house—swinging her shoes that dangled from her fingers. An unsettling realization struck me that August wasn’t even looking for me as I saw him doing another keg stand through the front window by the door. My stomach sank as I thought about him with another girl who wasn’t me.
“How about I get you another shot, and then I’ll take you home?” His tone was flat, and if there wasn’t a slight intonation at the end, I would have taken it as an order.
I wiped my palms down the sides of my dress. “How do you know I’m not planning on staying here, too?”
“What, with them? Doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” There was that confidence again. Was I really that open-ended as a person? Because he was absolutely right. I hated crowds. And parties were the worst kind of crowd.
“Fine. I suppose it isn’t.” I refrained from pouting and dropped my shoulders in defeat. “You wouldn’t mind taking me home? ”
“Not at all. What kind of a man would I be if I let you get drunk and didn’t get you home safely?” I glanced at the front door. He’d be like August. That kind of thing had happened before, it wasn’t exactly new to me. When I turned back to face Briggs, he lifted a finger and pointed at the house, his brows shooting toward the sky. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“What?” I asked, my fingers back to rubbing the edge of his jacket.
“Nothing.” He looked down at my hands. “Let’s get you that shot.”
“You don’t want one?” I eyed him over. He looked very…not drunk.
“That would be highly irresponsible of me, Rose.”
“Right. Right.” Of course, he’s fucking responsible, too. “And then you’re taking me straight home?”
“Straight home. Promise.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering where the boy from history class was buried under the man I saw in front of me. I decided to ignore all the questions I had about where he went after those few months of sharing the same class and followed Briggs around the back to take one last shot.