Cursed (The Devil's Roses 1)

I dialed my dad quickly and looked back at him. “Excuse me for a moment.” I held up a hand and walked to the other side of the pier.

My dad answered in a panic. “Hello…Aimee?”

“Hey, Dad.”

He bellowed into the phone. “Do you have any idea what I have been going through this last hour? I sent Shane looking for you. I almost called the police, young lady.”

I shuddered. “Sorry, I just got caught up in the conversation I was having. It was refreshing to be a normal kid for an hour.”

He groaned into the phone. “Aimee, the coffee shop phoned and said you were having coffee with a strange man no one knows. He could be the psycho.”

I shook my head as I looked down the pier at him. “No, Dad, he’s not. I know his voice a little bit and this is not the guy. His mouth isn’t the same, anyway. He’s a fellow art lover from the library, not a crazed rapist.”

“Okay. Well, I want you home in the next half hour. You have school tomorrow and you’re going, for the full day. God, I feel like I’m talking to your sister, not you.” He hung up the phone and I felt the guilt left dangling at the end of the conversation. My poor dad had been through enough. He didn’t need me acting like Alise, to top things off. I looked back at the end of the pier for him. The pier held private moorage all summer long. It was starting to fill up, and in the midst of the boats and docks, I couldn’t see him. I looked around, but I was alone.

I tried to run back around the corner to see the entrance to the docks, but my side hurt too much. I slowly walked around, looking for him.

At the entrance, I saw Shane walking down the pier. He looked angry. I had forgotten about him completely, which seemed odd, considering the conversation we'd had.

He looked beautiful in his jeans and dark-blue t-shirt, which made his troubled blue eyes stand out more. “Where is he?” Shane spoke firmly, taking my hand. He looked hurt, which made me feel sick. I hadn’t done anything to feel guilty, technically.

I shrugged. “Who?"

"The guy you were having coffee with." He didn’t look fooled by the act.

"I don’t know. He was here and then he left. At least now I know who the guy with the crazy blue eyes from your party is. His name is Aleksander. How could you possibly know already that I was with him?”

“Thelma at the coffee shop called your dad. Where is he?” he ended the sentence angrily.

I shivered from the cold ocean air. “I don’t know. I phoned my dad and he was gone.”

“Does that seem like the behavior of a nice guy?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head. I knew how hurt he was. I had not only ignored our conversation on the phone, but also hung out with another guy.

"Shane, you know how badly I wanted to solve the mystery of the man from my memory." I tried to sound injured by his assumption.

"I don’t know an Aleksander. We need to get you home." He pulled me along the pier gently.

We didn’t speak again on the drive to my place, what with all the confusion on both our parts lingering about. My dad was at the door when we pulled up.

“He was really worried, Aimee.” His eyes burned down on me. “I was worried too.”

I nodded. “I know. Thanks for the ride, Shane.” I leaned over to kiss his cheek, but he turned his lips and pressed them into mine. It was my first kiss—ever. He pulled me into him, kissing me a little harder. I kissed him back. It was a soft but passionate kiss, exactly the way I had always imagined a kiss would be. My heart did a flip and then a flop. He put his hand on my lower back and pulled me into his chest, crushing me. I winced in pain from my side as I breathlessly pulled away.

“Think about what I said on the phone earlier.” His eyes were aflame with desire. I almost leaned in for another kiss. I stopped myself, knowing my dad was watching the moment. I climbed out of the truck instead.

“Night, Shane. Thanks.” My dad waved as Shane waved back at him through my open door. “Night, Mr. James. Night, Aimee.” He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. I knew what was racing through his mind. It was going through mine too.

I climbed the steps to my front porch and nodded to my dad. “Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He put an arm around me. “I really like that kid.”

His smile was expectant. I knew he wanted details, but I shrugged. “He’s the best.”

My dad winced. “Ooouuuu poor Shane, he’s the best. It’s too bad that he doesn’t know you don’t like him back. Do you?”

I didn’t have an answer. I collapsed onto the couch. “Daddy, I don’t know what to do. A month ago, I had no boys. I had my books and Blake. Now I have too many boys to pick from, a stalker, a new bff who is a total moron, but I really love her, and I haven’t read a book in weeks, and Blake—wtf Dad? He’s dating Alise, which I get—she’s hot, but come on... She’s horrid.”

The memory came back. I remembered lying in the grass thinking how handsome Shane was, telling him I didn’t get why he liked my sister. He was staring at me the way he had before he kissed me. He was going to kiss me that night, before Alise came stumbling out onto the grass cussing like a pig, tripping everywhere.

“Honey, no matter the number of daddies you say, which we both know I love, it won’t solve your problems. You need some separation and time. Your sister is not horrid, Aimee. That’s a cruel thing to say. She’s just extreme and passionate in everything she does.” He patted my head and went into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes at him.

I pulled a pillow over my face and screamed a little. I pulled the pillow off and sat up slowly. I was still nursing my side, which felt better than it had in ages. “You’re right Dad. I need Emma.”

He groaned. “No please—anything but Austen.”

I shook my head, walking over to where my mom's movie collection sat. “Maybe you’re right, Sense and Sensibility. Marianne would have had a much better life if she had chosen wisely and picked Colonel Brandon over Willoughby. They had passion but it wasn’t enough, and she nearly died. Whereas, Colonel Brandon loved her enough from the beginning, and if she had chosen prudently, she would have been spared that pain.”

My dad sighed, as he made us both an omelet. “When has the heart chosen wisely, my dear? As a scientist, I will say love is one thing for certain we will never understand, not fully.”

“You’re a big man, admitting that you don’t completely understand the chemicals inside of us.”

He laughed. “I like that Prejudice one better. I rather enjoy that Darcy fellow. He is a man after my own heart. Things seem simple with him. Can’t we watch that?”

I frowned at him over the couch. “No, it has no bearing on my love life at this moment. Her situation with Darcy and Wickham is nothing like mine. Neither of the boys I like is wicked like he is. Dad, I have never had a love life, but something has changed in me. I need to honor it with Austen, and I think, either Emma and the triangle with Frank Churchill and Mr. Knightly, or Marianne, Brandon and Willoughby.”

He shook his head. “I liked you better when you were more like me and less like your mom. How is it that you love the boy from the bookstore already?”

I stuck my tongue out. “Love at first sight, maybe. Sense and Sensibility then. Even you will cry.”

"Love at first sight isn’t real, Aimee. It's called lust."

I cringed. "Ew, Dad, Jeeze."

My dad laughed as he carried our plates of fruit and omelets into the living room while I set up the movie. We didn’t have a huge TV or a great surround-sound system. We were ‘fireplace and a good novel in hand’ sort of people.

I had never been dramatic or caught in a triangle. It was not something I would ever have imagined for myself. I let go of the situation I was in and just enjoyed the movie with my dad. I think he might have even shed a slight tear towards the end.

Chapter Six

What hot guy? Oh right, my boyfriend.

School was boring the next day, until my sister followed me into the bathroom. “Okay, spill. Who is everyone talking about? Who's the hottie?”

I had been leaning against the sink, taking deep breaths. I was trying to get past the side stitch I seemed to have constantly where my liver was located. I thought about what I had eaten for lunch and knew the salad couldn’t have been the issue. I was contemplating going to the doctor when I heard her voice. It caused me to straighten quickly. I nearly died from the pain of standing so sharply. Sweat crept along my brow.

She started primping in the mirror. She was wearing a tiny outfit I couldn’t quite classify. “Is that a mini dress, or a shirt you're wearing as a dress?” I scowled at her.

She held her arms out, beaming, like I had complimented it or cared about fashion for even a second. “You like it? I got it a few weeks ago, but haven’t felt like wearing it. Today felt like the right moment.”

It was silver like her eyes and puffy at the bottom, but super short, showing off her long, lean legs. The shirt she had on was pale pink over top of the same silver as the skirt. As well, she had a jean jacket, strappy sandals, and a purple scarf on. The outfit was amazing, but a little over the top for twelfth grade, in a town that was famous for fishing and forestry.

I rolled my eyes at her. She was looking at my plain blue jeans and grey three-quarter-sleeve cotton shirt.

She grimaced. “Do you have to wear that kind of stuff out of the house? It looks like pajamas.” She plucked at my shirt leaving an indent in the cotton. "Just let your hair down. It is really pretty down and long."

I grimaced. "No. I like my bun."

"Here, let me do your makeup."

I frowned at her and shook my head. I washed my hands and pulled my lip gloss out of my pockets.

“Use some of my lipstick,” she offered.

“No thanks. I know where your mouth has been, first. Second, the last time you got to play West Coast Barbie with me, some freak tried to kill me. I’m good with plain gloss and its subtle hint of pink, my slightly-stained gray cotton shirt, granny bun, and all of it.”