Page 37 of Roses & Ruin

“Yeah. Yeah.” I scrub at my eyes. “He…I thought it meant something, you know? Taking me to this little church. Asking me about Frankenstein. But I was an idiot.” I frown.

Delia grimaces. “Look, it sounds like Hayden’s got some baggage with a capital B. I know it’s hurtful, how he just leaves you. “But”—Delia fiddles with the hem of her skirt—“it’s possible none of this has anything to do with you at all.”

“What does that mean?” I mumble.

Delia shakes her head. “I mean, he might actually feel something for you, but he’s not sure what to do with it. Like you said, why would he keep making these little reach-out moments if he didn’t want your company?”

“If he likes me,” I say, “then he’s doing a terrible job showing it.”

Delia has no answer for that one. She sits back against the chesterfield and props her legs on the radiator with a sigh. My phone buzzes. Probably my parents. I reach out, mummy-like, slapping the mattress for my phone. Delia nudges it my way, and I open the text.

The first thing I see is a picture of a one-legged pigeon on the steps of the main campus library.

Julian:

Saw this little guy and thought of you

Also, no biggie, but art show is tomorrow. I’ve confirmed there will be three types of red wine.

I hug the phone to my chest. Delia’s brows pop. “Is that Hayden?”

“He never bothered to get my number. It’s…” I sit up, scrubbing my eyes. With all the Hayden stuff, I’d forgotten to tell Delia. “Julian.”

“What?” Delia sits up, eyes huge. “TA Julian? Was-a-dick-to-you-on-your-first-day Julian?”

“He’s also cleaned-my-cut-palm Julian,” I say, sniffling. I gaze down at the texts. “He invited me to an art show tomorrow night as his date.”

“And? What did you say?” Delia casts a suspicious glance at where I’m rapidly typing on my phone.

“I’m telling him yes.”

“Oh, really?” Delia hops onto the mattress beside me, her eyes wide. “You sure, Ro? I mean, I want you to be happy. But you’re not just doing this because you’re pissed at Hayden?”

I look up at her, pleading with my eyes for her to understand. “I…Whatever Hayden might feel or not feel, Delia, my heart can’t take it anymore, okay? It hurts too much. I don’t want to…” My voice falters.

“Okay.” Delia sighs, wrapping her arms around me. “Okay, Rose. Sure. We gotta get you some thorns, man. If there’s a next time with Hayden, he needs to know what it’s like to be pricked back.”

“Until then,” I say, showing Delia my cracked screen, “at least there’s this.”

Julian:

Amazing!!!! So chuffed that you’re coming!!!!!

Please ignore prior text and pretend I sent something cool and dashing.

Delia smiles. “He’s a dork. Cute, but a dork. Now let’s go pick out your outfit.”

—

Julian and I plan to meet in front of MassMo, the art gallery in the heart of downtown Fairford. I’m nervous the entire bus ride, smoothing the floor-length silk dress that clings to my body like a river of black water. The halter neckline is secured in a pretty bow at the nape of my neck, and two long, sumptuous ribbons flow all the way down my back to my calves. Delia’s wrangled my hair into a glossy French twist, teasing out little pieces of curling tendrils to frame my face. She kept my makeup pretty but subtle, making my heart-shaped face look dewy and eyelids shimmery.

I am going on a date, I think breathlessly. This is my first date.

I do not wonder if Hayden would find my bare back touchable.

My (short, thank god) heels click on the brick sidewalk as I approach MassMo, and there Julian is. He looks heart-stopping in a dark blue suit, the collar of his white button-up open to show his throat. The long bangs of his golden hair are tousled beautifully across his brow, highlighting his wide green eyes. Julian wipes across his jaw, checks his phone, scrubs a hand through his hair, winces when he remembers he’s got product in it.

He looks nervous. Wait. Is he nervous about me?