Twelve of Roses

“You don’t have to answer that. Please ignore her. She’s a stupid slut.” Vicky squeezed my hand, offering me a pained smile before shooting Julie a murderous glare.

“I’ll ask you something different,” she chirped a second later, trying to lighten the mood.

“Okay.” I forced a smile, burying the pain like I always did, desperate to move away from the topic.

When her question came, I was once again caught off guard. I really should have expected it. Vicky had been hinting at it for the last two months and had never received an answer.

“Soooo, Rose. Do you or don’t you have a thing for Con?” Vicky asked, a little too loudly.

All three of them stared at me, eagerly waiting for an answer. Darcy was the only person who knew I had a minor obsession with the guy, but that was between us. Shifting on my knees where I knelt on the floor, I tried to think of a way to answer.

“Your boyfriend?”

“My what?” Vicky sputtered, drops of liquor flying from her mouth.

“I thought…never mind,” I rushed out.

Why did I say that?

Me and Darcy had spoken on the phone for hours about our suspicions, but they were just that. Darcy had a theory that all the Burrows were adopted, which could be true, but I’d never seen a parental figure at the Burrow household.

The entire situation was odd to me.

Vicky was clearly black. Con and Justin weren’t. I wasn’t a medical genius or anything, but I was quite sure one man’s sperm couldn’t make such a drastic switch in ethnicities. Not only that, but there was a weird bond between the three—and it wasn’t remotely brother or sisterly.

“God, Rose. Gross,” Vicky sputtered with a laugh, offering no explanation for the obvious.

“So?” Julie questioned, leaning towards me, blowing a breath of alcohol into my face.

“I want a dare,” I blurted out abruptly.

Vicky’s face lit up like a star on top of a Christmas tree. I knew right then that I’d screwed up.

“She chose dare—no take backs!” Julie sang. I had the strongest urge to deck her in the face.

“I dare you to go upstairs to Con’s room and get a kiss. On the lips.”

Pure mortification immediately began to set in. I couldn’t do that.

“Isn’t that a little childish? A kiss on the lips?” I attempted to coolly play it off, quirking a brow at her.

“I dare you,” she said again, her voice taking on an annoyingly high pitch.

Molly shifted in obvious discomfort, shooting me a look that seemed to say, you don’t have to do that.

The four of us sat around staring at one another for a few minutes before I finally decided.

Screw it.

Snatching the Jack Daniels out of her hands, I gulped more than a decent bit down, ignoring the way my throat burned and my eyes watered. Wiping my mouth with the back of my palm, I gave the bottle back and stood up.

“A dare’s a dare.” I had no idea if I said that for their benefit or mine.

Wandering out of the room before I lost my nerve, I made my way up the dark stairway to the upper level. It was like walking a plank for judgment day. I’d either be shoved overboard and devoured by sharks or get to rejoice because I survived.

Five Finger Death Punch’s ‘Wrong Side Of Heaven’ spilled down the long hall from behind Con’s door. I knew exactly which room was his, and with every step I took towards it, my heart beat a little faster.

Once I reached it, I slowly raised my fist to knock and then dropped it back down to my side again. My stomach was inundated with fluttering.

Was I really doing this?

Me and Con didn’t talk all that much. In fact, the last few weeks, while I was growing closer to Vicky, he hadn’t really been around.

Perhaps that was for the best, though. I shouldn’t have thought about him the way I did.

I definitely shouldn’t have been outside his bedroom door, tipsy, considering doing something I couldn’t take back.

He was meant to be an unattainable fantasy I craved from afar—like a good dream you wouldn’t dare wake yourself up from for fear of never dreaming it again.

So why was I going to poke the beast?

Well, that’s human nature, isn’t it? To want what we can’t have. To crave what’s bad for us. There’s something about the forbidden that makes it irrevocably desirable.

Before I could think about the ramifications my actions could cause—or force myself to care—the large white door swung open, and I took a step back.

Con’s masculine, woodsy scent filtered out of the room and straight into my lungs. He wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of black drawstring sweats that sat a little low on his tanned hips.

Holy fuck.

I stared at the sharp V and the toned cuts on his abdomen, taking in every solid bump and line of his abs.