One Black Rose (10 page)

“Look,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry about before. You’re right. I shouldn’t tell you who to hang out with and neither should my family. My relationship with the Roths is…complicated, that’s all.”

I knew in my gut that he was telling the truth, but too much had happened for me to let him off the hook too easily, so I said, “Well, people can do harm without meaning to. It happens all the time.”

Samuel sighed, fidgeting with the armrest. “I know, and I’m sorry.” Even though he had sat about as far away from me as he could, this was the first time he’d chosen to be in the same room and look at me.

“But, you can go a long way to fixing it by telling me what it is between you and the Roths,” I said brightly. Samuel let out a surprised laugh. He had a nice laugh, but not as nice as Holt’s, I thought, then pushed that thought away. Holt wouldn’t even touch me.

Since when did I become something to fight over, anyway? My dad would be shocked that boys were even interested in me, much less fighting over me. He still thought I was twelve.

“Look, I really can’t explain everything. It goes back kind of a long way and it’s really complicated,” he said.

“I’m fine with kind of a long way,” I said. “Plus, I have time.”

“When I say long way I mean really long,” said Samuel.

I thought about how I was always bored in history class, but for some reason I didn’t think listening to the history of the Roths and the Cheshires would be so boring. I just glared at him.

He looked back at me and half sighed, half laughed. “Look, I’m sorry.” And I knew from his tone that I wasn’t going to get a useful word out of him.

Sitting on my bed looking at Samuel while he said nothing more, I realized something awful. Despite everything, something inside me still pulled me towards him. I had felt it from the first moment I saw him and had chalked it up to wanting to know why he hated me so much. But now, sitting there looking at him relaxing in my chair, I wasn’t so sure. One thing I did know, though, was that I wanted him out of my room. Right then.

“We should get back downstairs,” I said, hopping off my bed.

“Actually, I have to get going, but I’ll see you soon,” he said, standing up.

“I’ll walk you out,” I said, and made a beeline for the door.

“So you think I look like a football player?” he asked as we walked down the hall.

I blushed. “I was angry.”

“I know,” he said.

Carley and Nick were both in the living room playing cards. I wasn’t sure what game it was, but I think it might have been Go Fish. After they said their goodbyes to Samuel, I let him out and watched him walk away into the rain. He instantly disappeared into the downpour.

I sat down with Carley and Nick. I was still completely frustrated, because despite Samuel’s apology he still didn’t make any sense.

“Why can’t guys just tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

“You know how men are about the F word,” said Carley.

“I’m pretty sure we like it,” said Nick.

Carley gave him a look that said
Don’t you get anything?
And replied, “Not that F word.”

Nick looked confused.

“I’m talking about the OTHER F word,” she said, like it was obvious.

“What other F word?” asked Nick, bewildered.

“Feelings,” Carley said. “That’s the one that’s like a swear word to guys.”

After Samuel left, we spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out. Carley and Nick didn’t ask me what had happened with Samuel and I didn’t say anything. I hoped that our chat would be the end of the weirdness between us, and definitely the end of any weirdness between his family and me. I also hoped that once I talked to Holt tonight at dinner, he and I could get back to normal and this whole nasty episode of people chasing after me in a car late at night could be forgotten.

Besides, I didn’t think Carley had been completely right that afternoon. I didn’t think Holt had any trouble talking about his feelings for me; that wasn’t his problem. But he definitely had a problem talking about something, and that’s what I wanted to know. What wasn’t he telling me?

Before Holt came to pick me up, I agreed with Carley and Nick to meet them at UP UP and Away after dinner for the evening concert. While Nick went home to get ready Carley took a nap, which left me alone in front of the television.

The TV was on, but I was too preoccupied to pay any attention to what I was watching; I had to think through the situation with Holt and everything that had happened. Unfortunately, my mind kept going to Samuel too. I was disturbed that I felt attracted to him, despite the fact that my very being seemed to repel him. I had never been repulsive to anyone before, and I didn’t like it. But Holt’s liking me made it easier for me to ignore Samuel. Somehow I’d felt instantly comfortable with Holt, like I’d always known him. There had never been that awkward bit where you aren’t sure if you’re going to get along with the other person or have to spend time getting to know each other. With Holt it was easy and fun. I had instantly liked him and the time I spent with him only confirmed that I would continue to like him.

But apparently it wasn’t that simple. Holt was hiding something, and it seemed like the Cheshires were as well, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was. When I let my imagination wander I wondered if they were opposing mob families or something, but I knew that was silly. Plus, it didn’t explain the way flowers reacted to Holt or why the air always felt a little colder when Samuel was in the room.

Finally, half an hour before Holt was supposed to arrive, I went up to my room and changed clothes. It was too cold out for a summer dress, so I opted for jeans and a white long-sleeved t-shirt. I also tried to do something with my brown hair, but just ended up combing it out and putting some stuff in it to keep the frizz to a minimum. After I’d finished with my makeup I went back downstairs to wait for Holt to pick me up. He was on time, which didn’t surprise me at all. He was always on time. I imagined him dating a girl that was always a half hour late, but I suspected he would still get there on time. If he said he’d be there at a certain time then he would be. If he said he would do something then he did it. I really liked that about him.

I grabbed my blue rain jacket and dashed outside to meet him. Even though I’d rushed to his car, he still managed to open the door to the silver BMW for me as I got in.

He smiled at me. “How are you?” he asked as he started the car. Soft jazz was playing on the radio, but I didn’t know the song. It was a nice contrast to the rain gently hitting against the windows.

He was wearing a blue-collared shirt under a rain jacket, and jeans. I realized I was staring. “Sorry, what?” He pretended not to notice my lapse and said again, “How are you?”

“Good,” I said. “Hungry.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I thought we’d go to that Italian place I pointed out.”

“That’d be great,” I said.

The place he took me to was a couple of towns over. Luckily it had parking right in front of the restaurant and we didn’t get too soaked running inside. The place was small, with an old Tuscany feel. The walls were a creamy off-white and looked a bit like stones. The white tablecloths complemented the wood furniture and the hanging light over each table gave the place a cozy feel. Since it was such bad weather, there were only two other tables filled and we had our pick of seats.

I guess I was taking too long to choose where to sit, because I heard the blond waitress passing us mutter, “Just sit somewhere.”

I hoped she wasn’t our waitress. The way she almost threw the food down at another table made it pretty clear she wasn’t in a good mood.

I chose a table by the bank of windows so we could watch the rain coming down. “This is nice,” I said as Holt helped me into my chair.

Unfortunately, the blond waitress came over and said, “I’m Olivia. Don’t say anything bad about me to the manager or I’ll make sure your food comes out cold. Here are menus.” She tossed two on the table and stalked away.

Yikes, I thought.

Holt raised his eyebrows at me a little but didn’t comment. I picked up a menu and looked it over. “So, you didn’t bring me here for the service?” I asked.

After we’d looked at the menus in silence for a minute or two, I asked Holt what he was going to order.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Pasta, probably.”

“I’m going to get pasta too,” I said, “since it’s an Italian place.”

It took Olivia several minutes to come back. I had the feeling she was trying to wait us out. If she didn’t come back for long enough maybe we would leave, but Holt and I were having fun chatting, so that wasn’t going to happen. When she did finally come back she just stood there, glaring at both of us without offering to take our orders. Holt ordered and she gave a snort of derision. When I ordered, her comment was, “Watch yourself. He’s not going to marry you if he has to feed you all the time, particularly not someone that gorgeous.” She said it low and into my ear.

I blushed. “I’ll have my own job and feed myself, thanks anyway.” She sniffed and walked away.

“You plan to work once you’re married?” Holt asked.

I looked up at him, flustered. I was so focused on the bitchy waitress that I hadn’t realized she’d just brought up my marrying Holt and he had
heard
us. I could feel my face turning bright red yet again.

“She was just in a bad mood,” I muttered. “I wanted to tell her off.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding, “but have you thought about marriage?”

To my shock he sounded serious. “To you?” I blurted out. Instead of acting totally horrified, like every other guy I know would have at the mention of marriage on the first real date, he just smiled.

“Sure, to me. Would you?” He didn’t say “marry me.” He stopped before he got there, as if those words carried some secret power.

I had no idea what to say. Luckily at that moment Olivia brought us each a water. But she was so busy trying to act like we weren’t actually there, she spilled Holt’s all over the table.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, dashing off to get something to wipe up the mess with. I couldn’t tell if she meant her apology or not.

Holt was forced to stand up, because the water was seeping towards him, so I did the same. It took Olivia a minute to come back; it looked like she was getting a talking to from the manager. When she finally returned she looked like she was almost in tears, but maybe also a little angrier as well.

She dropped the cloth on the table and started scrubbing furiously. Holt watched her for a moment, excused himself, and vanished out the front door before I even realized he was gone. I stood there awkwardly watching Olivia scrub while I had a momentary worry that he was just going to leave me there, because -- I assumed -- he didn’t actually want to talk about us marrying (what nonsense anyway). But he came right back inside. In his hand were several small flowers. I recognized the small bunch as forget-me-nots, very small with light blue petals and yellow centers. I remembered seeing some outside as we came in. I was really proud of myself for actually knowing the name of a flower.

I raised my eyebrows. What was he doing bringing me flowers right now?

But when he got to the table he walked right past me. The flowers weren’t for me. Instead, he went over to Olivia, who was still cleaning our table, and tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around and started to snap something at him, but saw the flowers and instantly softened. “Sorry, how can I help you?” she asked, her voice suddenly as smooth as honey.

What was going on? I wondered.

He presented her with the flowers and a dazzling smile lit her face. She looked at them with ecstasy, touched them reverently, and said, “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”

“Sure you can,” he said. He was smiling.

Gingerly, as if they were as breakable as glass, she took the forget-me-nots from him. As she inhaled the sweet scent, her face went from drawn and pale to fuller, with more color. She didn’t even seem to realize it.

WHAT was going on?

I stared back and forth from Holt to Olivia, but they acted as if I wasn’t there.

“Thank you,” Olivia said, her cheeks turning even pinker as she smiled.

“I would tell you to just sit somewhere else, but I know how much you wanted to sit here,” she gushed to me, still holding the flowers. “I’ll have it clean in just a second.”

“Yeah, um, sure,” I said. I really would have been fine at any table.

Once Olivia had finished mopping everything up, Holt pulled my chair out for me. After she had re-set the table and poured us fresh glasses of water she went away, saying she’d check on the food. The flowers were stuck in the front of her apron.

“What was that about?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and sitting back in my chair. I felt like I always asked him a bunch of questions, but tonight I was determined to get some answers.

Holt shrugged. “I just wanted to cheer her up. Seemed like she was having a hard day.”

I wanted to say something else, but I didn’t know what. Was I jealous, because he’d never given me flowers? I didn’t think so. He hadn’t flirted with her. I probably would have been jealous if I thought he was doing that. Plus, since he was on a date, or whatever this was, with me, I probably would have been offended or pissed as well. It was just yet another odd thing that had happened while I was with Holt.