Six years earlier
She’s drunk. She thinks it’s just tipsy but it’s full-on, will-probably-puke, massive-hangover-guaranteed drunk. I should be panicked, worried and—more than anything—unsupportive of her behavior but… she’s just so damn cute.
I watch her as she concentrates really hard on the lines she’s drawing in the sand. Her eyebrows are drawn together, her lips are slightly parted and the tip of her tongue is sticking out ever so slightly as she uses her index finger to create a masterpiece. Well, a bunch of random crooked lines and uneven divots in the sand she’s declared is my portrait.
I’ve been avoiding Rose lately, but when she called and left a message slurring her words, going on about my best friend, Jordan, breaking her sister’s heart and ruining everything, I knew I had to come. She’s fifteen, three years younger than me, and although my life has been far from perfect, hers was much rougher. And she was there for me when I needed someone, so I’ll always be there for her. I’ve been avoiding her because I think she’s developing a crush. I’m a born flirt. I can’t help it. It’s like breathing air, so of course I’ve been flirting with Rose—but with Rose’s ideals, it was playing with fire. Rose Caplan is sweet, smart and definitely beautiful, but she has all these fantastical ideas about love. She’s a romantic and she dreams of an epic love story with a Prince Charming and a happily ever after. She deserves nothing less, but I’m not at all interested in that.
“Hrmpf.” She makes this weird sound, like a sigh, a huff and a grunt all at once, and uses her palm to smooth away the sand drawing. “I can’t do you justice.”
I smirk and tilt my head so I’m in her sightline. She’s sitting in the sand at my feet. Her back between my legs, against the log I’m sitting on. In front of us the bonfire, built by friends and high school classmates, is in the final stage before becoming nothing more than smoldering ash. The minimal light dances over her skin, making it sparkle. Her cheeks are flushed from what she says was only three beers and “maybe a wine cooler thingy.”
“Justice?” I repeat and her near-black eyes catch mine.
“You’re too pretty for a sand drawing,” she says with a frown and a glare, like she’s honestly mad at me. Rose has never called me pretty before and her confession makes me warm. If this was any other girl, I’d take advantage of the confession. I’ve never been one to turn down an opportunity for a bonfire make-out session. But… it’s sweet, young and innocent Rose, and I just can’t do that to her. Luckily, she continues in a tirade without waiting for my response.
“Jordan’s too stupid. Callie’s too angry. Jessie’s too stubborn. You’re too pretty and I’m too lame. Everything is too. I hate too. Too is ruining my life.”
She looks completely despondent, and totally sincere, so I feel bad when I can’t keep the giant grin from overtaking my face. Her wide eyes get wider and that pouty, pink mouth—the one that is quickly maturing into something any man would have sex dreams about—drops into a perfect O. She whispers, “Crap. I said that out loud.”
She tries to move away from me, but I reach out and gently cup the side of her face in the palm of my left hand. Now she’s stuck, twisted around between my legs, staring at me. “Rosie, your life is not ruined. Everything will be okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that because I will make it okay,” I vow, my voice dropping an octave. “I will always have your back.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve always had mine.”
She stares at me for another second as that sinks in. I know, even drunk, she knows why she’s as close a confidant as my best friend Jordan, and one of the few people I let completely in. She suddenly shifts her eyes back to the sand and slides away, so I can no longer touch her pretty face.
“But I want you to have more than my back,” she mumbles in such a low, slurred voice I almost miss it. “No one wants more than my back. Because I’m too lame.”
She starts to try to stand up but tips right back over and lands with a thud on her ass in the sand. I slip off the log and drop to my knees, reaching out to take her hands and keep her from falling all the way back and into the fire. I pull her close, sneaking the opportunity to sniff that amazing smell that is Rose Caplan. Some kind of soft, powdery-smelling perfume that screams delicate but makes my dick hard at the exact same time. I’m sure it’s some drugstore perfume, because Rosie doesn’t have money for anything more than that, but on her, it’s priceless.
I prop her up against the log again and lean in close, taking another deep inhale of that perfect, dick-twitching scent. “Oh, Fleur, you’re a drama queen when you drink.”
Our eyes meet again. I force myself to move back to the log and sit behind her. If I look at that face a second longer I’m going to kiss her. Because she’s pretty, and adorable, and I can. But I shouldn’t, and with Rosie that matters. I have to remember that matters. Once safely behind her, I put my hands on her shoulders and lean down, with my lips just behind her ear.
“You are not too lame. And all the other ‘too’ problems with Jessie, Jordan and whoever else will work out.” I pause and tell her what I have been thinking for months… only I do it in French. “Ta vie sera belle parce que tu Fleur, es belle. Et tu vas trouver quelqu’un qui t’aimera pour ça.”
She twists her head and blinks up at me. “Not fair. I don’t understand.”
I smirk and give her a small wink. “One day I’ll translate it for you.”
She turns back to the fire in front of her, staring at the flickering flames, and murmurs, “I’m too scared to go for what I really want.”
She tips her head back and looks up at me. This time, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop myself from kissing her. I don’t even think I want to stop. Maybe she’ll be too drunk to remember. Maybe…
“Luc!” My best friend Jordan’s deep voice fills the night air and causes Rose to snap her head away from me. “Have you seen Jessie?”
Rosie jumps to her feet and starts congratulating Jordan on being drafted into the NHL. Our moment disintegrates and I’m grateful. As much as I wanted her in that moment, it’s for all the wrong reasons. I would break her heart, and I refuse to do that to Rose.