The Loyal Groom (Groom 1)

“I’ll be back at four thirty,” Lindsey says as she turns the green beast into the parking lot, and right away, heads are turning.

I ignore it just like I did the day before, because I’m using this school as much as they’re using me. Kids with test scores as high as mine make them look good, and this school is my ticket to college. If all I have to do is endure comments about being poor during my time here, then so be it. They wouldn’t be wrong; we are poor.

Lindsey pulls up in the student parking lot, and Amber rolls the window down as students walk by and turn their heads in our direction.

“These rich boys know how to eat pussy?” she asks loudly to the passing group of jocks as she makes a V with her fingers and runs her tongue between them.

“They’re too busy counting their money. Give me a bad boy from the west side who likes ass,” Allison says, and she and her twin high-five.

“Watch your back, Darian,” Lindsey says quietly as she raises her chin in the mirror, and I get out of the car.

“Go be smart,” Allison calls out in her Boston accent as the green beast drives away, leaving a trail of smoke behind it.

As I walk across the lot I hear my name called, and I turn around to see Rosy. Her red hair is braided over one shoulder, and she’s bundled up in a tan jacket with fur around the collar. She’s so perfect she looks like she belongs in a movie. I feel my smile match hers as I walk in her direction and meet her halfway.

“Hey, I wanted to catch you before class.” She holds out my coat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t replace it, but I had it cleaned last night.”

“This is great, thanks.” She probably couldn’t replace it because she doesn’t shop at Goodwill. But it smells clean and like vanilla, which reminds me of her. I pull it on quickly and then walk in step with her. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, thanks to you.” She looks down at her feet, but I can see the blush in her cheeks.

“You’re in band?” I ask as I point down at the small case she’s carrying. I can tell she’s eager to change the subject, and I don’t mind.

“Oh, yeah, I play the flute.” She holds it up like I can see through the case.

“Me too.” Her eyes land on mine, and I shrug. “I mean not flute, but I’m in band. I play percussion, but I’m terrible.” She smiles so big this time I can see her braces. She must realize it the same time I do because she hides them and looks ahead. “I’ve got it first today. You?”

“Me too.” She bites her bottom lip as we walk up the hill and into the band auditorium.

Kingswood Prep requires its scholarship students to have an extracurricular activity. When Lindsey signed me up for band I could have killed her, but now I’m thinking I should thank her. She said guys who played the drums were cool, and I didn’t need to get my expensive brain knocked around on a field with a bunch of assholes.

“Will you sit by me?” Rosy asks as we enter the music room.

“Every chance I get.”

When I look at her I try and think if I’ve ever felt this good before, and I can’t recall a moment that felt so nice. Just having my eyes on her makes all the pain go away, and it feels like it’s going to be all right.

Chapter 3

Rosy

A few years later…

“That’s not the dress we picked out.” I turn from the mirror at the sound of my mother’s voice, and I’m surprised because I didn't know she was home.

A small part of me was hoping she’d forget the prom was today since she and my dad spend most weekends in the city. When I was young it bothered me they were always gone, but not so much anymore.

“I went with something else.” I shrug one shoulder, hoping to avoid the confrontation.

We hadn't picked a dress at all. She sent a link to a dress in a group text between me and her stylist. They agreed it was perfect and it was sent over. I tried it on and hated it, and when I looked in the mirror I didn't see myself. All I saw was my mother—someone I never want to become. I hate having that feeling, but it’s the truth I hold inside.

When I was younger I missed a lot of things because I was sheltered. The past couple of years, Darian and his sisters have opened my eyes to a world beyond my own and taught me lessons my expensive school would never teach me.

“It’s homely.”

“I think you mean hippie.” Although I’d call it bohemian, I don’t want to break that down for her.