Chapter 10 Aurora
AURORA
“Wait.”
Brynnlee scans the words on the page, her brows slanted so harshly I worry she’ll give herself a headache.
“I thought this was supposed to be a love story? They die. They are literally dead. RIP them. This is depressing as hell.”
“Common misconception.”
She brings her wide eyes to meet mine.
“How? There is nothing romantic about this! They are dead at the end. They literally die by suicide. How can the misconception be common when it literally ends with their funeral?”
It takes everything in me not to laugh at her exasperation.
“Well, it is a tragic love story, but it’s not just a tragic love story, and people often forget that.”
“Or they haven’t read it.”
“Or that.”
Brynn huffs and drops the paperback onto the couch beside her.
“I thought Romeo and Juliet were supposed to be bastions of true love? Taylor Swift even wrote a whole song about them. But why? They’re idiots.”
“What makes you say that?”
She arches a brow. “Well, for starters, maybe if they would have thought things through before going off half-cocked on some harebrained plan, they’d both still be alive.
Or if Romeo would have just waited ten minutes before drinking the poison, he’d have found out that Juliet wasn’t actually dead, and they’d both still be alive.
Or, at the very least, Juliet could have said oh bummer, he’s dead, but I’m young and will get over it, and then just not impaled herself on a stupid dagger, then she’d still be alive. ”
I bite my lip and nod, my eyes twitching from how hard I’m trying not to laugh.
“Valid critiques.”
“Oh, and you know what else?”
“Tell me.”
“I know Juliet didn’t want to marry that one guy. What’s his name? Ferris?”
“Paris.”
“Right, him. I know she didn’t want to marry that guy, but Romeo?
Really? He was in love with that Rosa girl like an hour before he met Juliet, but Rosa wouldn’t sleep with him, so then he sees Juliet and suddenly thinks he’s in love with her?
He’s so capricious! He’s so fickle! Frankly—and excuse me for this but Sav says that if a word applies contextually and isn’t being used to dehumanize someone, then it’s okay to say, and Romeo is fictional, so I don’t have to feel guilty for insulting him—it’s fuck boy behavior.
He’s not someone you marry. He’s someone you avoid.
This is why children shouldn’t be making important decisions.
Their brains are underdeveloped, and their hormones make them morons.
This is why I’ve decided not to date until I’m eighteen. ”
I smile. I don’t miss how she said she’s decided, not her dad or Sav, which fits with the girl I’ve gotten to know over the last couple of days. She knows her own mind, and I envy that about her. She’s got a spark that I recognize, and I hope nothing ever happens to snuff it out.
“Actually,” I say slowly, “Romeo is believed to be around twenty-one.”
Brynn blinks. “But Juliet is thirteen.”
“That’s right.”
“She’s thirteen and he’s twenty-one?” I nod, and Brynn’s lip curls in disgust. “Ew, Aurora.”
I can’t hold it back anymore. I laugh.
“In our society today, it is definitely ew. But in fourteenth century Italy, age gaps like that were the norm. Count Paris was probably in his late teens to early twenties, too.”
“Yeah, and I thought that was why Juliet was so desperate to avoid marrying him.” Brynn throws herself onto the couch dramatically and stares at the ceiling.
“I can’t believe this play is so popular.
It’s just a creepy old guy trying to groom a child, and then they both die.
” She turns to look at me. “That’s the misconception.
It’s not a love story. It’s a cautionary tale about miscommunication, rash behavior, and pedophilia. ”
“You feel pretty strongly about that, huh?” I ask with a grin.
“Absolutely.”
“Strongly enough to write a five-page paper?”
She pushes herself up with a groan. “If I must.”
“Would you like help with the outline?”
“You know, I could probably just write it without the outline...”
“Well, unfortunately, the outline—”
“Is required by the program,” she finishes with a sigh. “I know. Oh, but maybe I could write the paper and then fill in the outline after? They’ll never know.”
I smirk. “How about we do the first few the proper way. If you do them well, I’ll let you try it your way.”
Her answering grin makes me feel like I just struck a deal with the devil. She looks so much like Sav in this moment that I almost forget they’re not blood related.
“I’m holding you to that,” she says, and I nod.
“I’m a woman of my word.”
Brynn turns on her tablet and gets to work completing the outline template required by her homeschool program, so I stand from the couch and make my way toward the kitchenette area of the suite.
Sav ordered a continental breakfast of sorts, which from what I’m learning is the norm.
Since I’ve been here this morning, Torren, Callie, and Claire have all filtered in and out, snagging food.
I haven’t seen Mabel, though. I’ve been watching.
“How’s it going?” Levi looks up at me from a tablet of his own, a stylus in his hand and something resembling construction blueprints on the screen. “She giving you hell?”
I grin and grab a glass to pour myself some orange juice.
“It’s going well. She might not like the subject matter, but she’s very smart. I don’t think she’s going to struggle much, if at all.”
He sets his stylus on the table. “When it comes to academics, if something doesn’t click immediately for Boss, it makes her uncomfortable. She’ll gladly work her ass off at anything else—guitar, drawing, skateboarding—but when it comes to school, she’s either all in or all out.”
“I can see that. It seems like the interpretation stuff is what gets her. Clear correct and incorrect, she can do no problem, but when the answer is up for interpretation? She doesn’t like that.”
Levi nods. “Nailed it.”
“We’ll get through it,” I say confidently, then gesture to the tablet. “Work?”
“Yeah, kind of. I’m consulting on a project for a buddy of mine. A mansion on the coast, but the client has some big ideas, so I’m helping make sure they’re carried out safely.”
“Is the client someone famous? A name I’d recognize?”
He flares his eyes. “It’s a name everyone would recognize. That’s why it’s also top secret.”
“Intriguing.”
“Don’t try to get it out of him,” Sav says as she saunters into the kitchen. “He won’t even tell me.”
“You’ll tell Mabel,” Levi says dryly.
Sav flashes me a smirk and a roll of her eyes, but she doesn’t deny it. I watch her survey the breakfast spread, then snag a mini blueberry muffin.
Last night, she had on a face full of makeup and this open-back leather and lace ensemble that hugged every curve and showed off a tattoo of dahlias down her spine.
This morning, she’s in baggy sweats and an oversized shirt that says East Coast Contracting on the breast pocket.
Her face is bare. Her hair is ratty and piled on top of her head in a sloppy bun.
Two very different sides to the rock star, but both fit her effortlessly.
Everyone in this band seems so comfortable in their own skin.
Even Brynnlee, and she’s only twelve. It makes me envious.
Envious and itchy, as if my own skin is too tight or too dry.
I fiddle with the skirt of my dress and resist the urge to adjust the sleeves.
Until a few years ago, I never wore dresses.
Now my closet is full of them. I can’t for the life of me remember how that happened. Brady likes them, though.
I frown and redirect my train of thought.
“What time do you have to be at the venue for sound check?” I take a sip of my juice and bounce my eyes between Sav and Levi. “I think I’d like to do some exploring before the show.”
“I’ll have to ask Ham—”
The door to the suite swings wide, revealing Mabel in full glam, and I stop breathing.
“Good morning, family. I’m here for breakfast.”
Levi raises a brow at Sav, then rolls his head toward Mabel.
“This is late for you, Mabes. Busy night?”
Mabel hums, but as she opens her mouth to speak, her eyes fall on me, and she stops short. Her lips purse momentarily, but then the flicker of concern is gone.
“Something like that.” She gives me a soft smile before picking up a plate and piling it with fruit. “Morning, Roar.”
I return her smile, then check out the table in an effort to quell the blush triggered by her presence and the nickname on her tongue. Maybe it will be easier if I’m not looking directly at her.
“Good morning.”
“She’s still here, then?” Sav’s tone is flat, and when I bring my attention to her face, her expression matches.
“Yep.” Mabel’s response is clipped. Her voice is pitched like she’s trying to come off cheerful and failing. “Here for the week.”
They’re talking about Kat, and all at once, the images of her wrapped around Mabel flood my head.
Those images plagued my dreams, only instead of Kat and Mabel, it was me and Mabel.
I don’t understand where it came from or how it happened, but the memory makes me blush hot with guilt and embarrassment.
With arousal. It’s all so confusing, my feelings muddled and indecipherable.
I try to force them away, but the truth of what I did remains.
I’d managed to dam up these thoughts while I was working with Brynn, but now that dam has busted, and I’m drowning. I’ll choke on them and die. My palms start to sweat, and my heart starts to race.
I need to get out of here.
Sav hums, and Levi pushes himself up from the table, picking up his tablet and empty plate.
He flares his eyes at me, then leaves the kitchen area without another word.
In his absence, the tension in the air thickens, and if leaving didn’t require me walking right through Sav and Mabel’s stare off, I’d sneak out just like Levi.
“Should we re-brief the Caveat boys, then?” Sav asks cryptically.
“Ham took care of it.”