🌹Rosalie🌹

I knew from the moment I peered out my window that I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. But they weren't exactly hush in their conversation. Nolan was washing his car beside my window, a window that was clearly open. And when his dad mentioned me and mom, it felt a bit like an invitation to the party.

I don't blame Nolan for not wanting us here. Heck, I don't even want to be here. But he had absolutely no right or tangible evidence to blame us being here on their money. We may have been struggling, but we were perfectly fine. And my mom has a job. If she was looking for an easy ride, I don't think she would have chosen the literal opposite side of the country and still be busting her ass with a job she's overqualified for.

It pissed me off to be seen as a leech, and as someone who would take advantage of those better off. It's something my dad had done, and I'll be damned if anyone tries to place that label on me or my mom. Especially someone who has taken no effort to get to know either one of us.

Case in point, we're nearly done with dinner and he's barely said a word. My mom and Darren continue talking about the upcoming game, something about a cookout and school spirit wear. Nolan is lost in his second plate of spaghetti, twirling and slurping and paying no courteous attention to the conversation at the table.

"I just can't wait to see everything again, to feel the whole town come together," my mom practically swoons. "And to see you out there cheering, Rosie. And you, Nolan, out on the field. It's such a magical moment."

Nolan raises his brow, a small ingenuine smile on his mouth. When his eyes flash my way, I can't help the way my face morphs into a scowl. His eyes don't stay on me long as they drop to the plate in front of me. I spin around another swirl of spaghetti and lift my fork.

Before bringing it to my mouth, I let it rest against the plate and look over at my mom. "It will be something," I acknowledge her. "Actually, I was wondering if you could take me to the studio tonight. I've spent so much time at cheer this week, I've missed some of my sessions. Sierra offered to open up for me tonight. Help me with my audition piece."

"I can take you," Nolan's voice interrupts, my eyes wide as I look over at him. "I mean," he clears his throat, "I'm headed that way. I can drop you off."

"Oh, that is so kind of you Nolan," my mom says, and I don't miss the way she smiles, or the fact her hand tightens in Darren's.

"That is a nice offer, Son," Darren adds.

I can't help but think of the conversation he had with his dad earlier today. I'm sure his offer is superficial, some type of deal he made with his dad. I want nothing to do with it. Except my mom is beaming.

Slowly, I push myself from the table and lift my plate full of spaghetti. "That would be great. Thank you." I walk over to the garbage and slide the contents of my meal into the trash, listening as the heavy thud hits the bottom. Next, I bring it to the sink.

It's then that I'm joined by Nolan, his shoulder nearly touching mine as he makes the same effort to rinse off his plate. He doesn't say anything as our arms touch, the heat of his skin a stark contrast to the icy chill lingering in the air between us. There's a pulse inside my chest, a foreign desire to lean into his warmth. It's gone as quickly as it arises. He drops his plate in the dishwasher and turns away, muttering something about leaving in five.

It's not until we've hit the open road that he clears his throat, breaking the monotony of silence. "So," he begins, his hands tight around the wheel. I glance over, waiting for what he has to say. The chords of muscle flex along his forearms, a chorus of movement flickering in the small street lights that flash through the windows. "I'm sorry about what you heard."

His words catch me off guard. I search his face, taking note in the sharp cut of his jaw, in the dark brown of his perfectly styled hair. It makes me wonder if he has a set routine to keep it in place.

When he doesn't say anything else, I let out a huff. "Is that your apology?"

He glances over at me before looking back at the road. "I'm pretty sure the words I'm sorry sums up the apology piece."

I laugh, all real semblance of humor completely lost. "So, you're sorry I heard it, or you're sorry you said it in the first place?"

He lets out the same humorless laugh. "Isn't it the same thing?"

"Absolutely not. One implies you're sorry I happened to be in earshot, but that you're not actually sorry for insinuating such a heap of boiling horse crap. And the other implies you see what you said was completely false and out of line."

He laughs, again. But this time there's actual humor behind his tone and it has my face scrunching together. "I'm sorry," he says again, still laughing. "A heap of boiling horse crap?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "Would you prefer cow? Have I somehow insulted your spirit animal?"

His smile widens, and it's the first time I catch the tiny dimple on his cheek. "If I had a spirit animal, Red, it wouldn't be a cow."

"No? Because I'm pretty sure this entire town is infused in cow spirit. They're everywhere. It's inevitable to not breathe it in."

"Fair," he acknowledges, that dimple still present along his face. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said. I just..." He lets out a breath, the joy across his eyes now gone. He's lost in thought as he scans the road in front of us. The lights of the town come into view, slowly approaching as the silence falls back around us.

"Look," I interrupt him, unsure if he actually intends to finish his thought. "I didn't want this either. And if you ask me, I think the entire thing is insane. But you should know that my mom would never marry for money. She would never put herself in that kind of situation. She's worked far too hard to rely on anyone for anything. I know this is fast, and crazy, and honestly, a giant thorn in both our sides, but if we're here, it's because she's truly in love with your dad."

The small shops approach, the open road now encased in brick paneled buildings and pops of potted flowers. He doesn't say anything as we pull in front of the dance studio. As he slides his truck into park, he takes another breath.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot," he admits as he looks over at me. It's the first time I've truly looked into his eyes, the bluish-grey tint a color I've never seen before. It has me questioning just how something so uniquely beautiful could be possible. "I've never had a mom. While most kids might dream of that role being filled, it's not something I ever wished upon a shooting star. I didn't ask for this."

"And you think I did?"

"I think," he begins. "That neither one of us want this. But whether we like it or not, our stories are intertwined. Even more so now that you've gone all pompoms. So, I'm calling a truce."

"A truce?"

"I'll stay out of your way, and you stay out of mine. I don't need a sister. But I do need my dad to think I'm actually trying. I'm assuming you don't want to let your mom down either. So, as far as they know, you and I are onboard for this whole crazy train."

I think about what he's saying, about the fact he knows what it means to me to not let my mom down, to give her everything she deserves. I nod. "Okay."

"Okay." He holds out his hand. "As far as our parents are concerned, you and I are trying this whole happy family thing."

Slowly, I raise my hand to his, sliding our palms together and holding that peculiar color of his eyes. I nod. "And in reality, we're just trying to get through senior year until we can both get out of this town."

He shakes my hand, holding for just a beat longer before he pulls his back. "Sounds like we've got a deal, Red. As your doting brother, I'll be back in two hours to pick you up."

With that, I slip out of his truck and watch him drive away. I have no idea where he's headed, but he continues down the street before turning out of sight.

I spin on my heel and enter the one place that has ever brought me life.