Twelve of Roses

“I get it, but that truck is probably safer than yours. It just isn’t as pretty. He looks much manlier,” I teased.

“Manlier? Ouch. Way to wound an ego.” He rubbed a hand across his chest.

I shook my head, laughing under my breath.

“You should do that more often,” he commented, his mouth tilting up at the corner. I bit my cheek, hiding the cheesy grin that threatened to overcome my face.

This simple interaction between us felt so natural, and I didn’t feel the need to hide inside myself. It fed my fantasy of being with someone way out of my league. He was beautiful, and beauty was something I decimated. Everything I touched, I tarnished. Everyone I loved, I lost.

Not only was he beautiful, he was normal. And I was…

Well, I wasn't anything other than Roselynn Morgue. There wasn’t any specific label that defined me.

One thing was clear, though: I needed to pluck the treacherous thoughts of this man from my brain before they took over my life.

We both stayed silent for the remainder of the ride. He seemed to be dwelling on his thoughts, and I continued to be lost in mine.

Chapter Three

I watched her walk to her front door, smiling when she looked back at me and waved before disappearing inside.

The second she could no longer see me, I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Having her so close and not being able to touch her like I wanted was fucking torture.

I loved the scent of her body wash. Mandarin and mimosa. I’d been in her bathroom enough times to know that it was the only kind she ever bought.

Watching her was one of my favorite things to do. I knew she watched me, too. Keeping it a secret from the other was one of the many things we had in common.

She didn’t know I watched her through my upstairs window.

She didn’t know I was there any time she decided to brave the outside world.

She didn’t know that sometimes I crept inside her room at night and watched the way she slept.

I wasn’t crazy or anything. On the contrary. I was like everyone else. Didn’t we all like to keep tabs on our most valuable items?

Roselynn Morgue was an incredibly special girl. Sadly, she didn’t know that yet.

I couldn’t wait to leave this town behind and disappear with her forever.

Chapter Four

Present

When my server finally came back up to me, I was ready to go behind the bar and make my own damn drink.

"Sorry for the wait. What can I get you started with?"

I stared at her for a good minute without saying a word. She looked like a Peggy Sue. She had two blonde pigtails and was donning short denims and a plaid shirt tied at the waist, and she had finished off the look with faded brown cowgirl boots.

Her large, round eyes peered down at me, a wide smile on her cherub face. I suddenly felt dramatically overdressed.

"Uh, rum and Coke, please." That seemed the safest bet. Those were hard to mess up.

"Be right back." Aimee (a quick glance at her name tag confirmed) continued to smile and waltzed away again.

Resting my chin on my hand, I pulled out my phone to check the world of social media. When Aimee sat my drink in front of me a few minutes later and asked if I wanted anything else, I politely waved her off.

As I was sipping on my tiny plastic straw, a prickling sensation started to needle the back of my neck.

Someone was watching me.

I looked away from my phone and slowly scanned the room. My gaze landed on a booth in the back corner. There were two men and two girls all piled inside, laughing and seemingly enjoying themselves.

My eyes locked with those of the man sitting on the end. He was smiling at something one of his friends was saying. Due to the lighting inside the dingy bar, I couldn't see him clearly.

From what I could make out from my vantage point, his teeth could be used in toothpaste commercials. He was dressed well, in a gray button-down dress shirt, slacks, and dress shoes. His hair was cleanly styled.

Given that he was with a group of people dressed similarly to him, I figured they worked together. I toyed with the notion of approaching him, ultimately deciding against it. He was the opposite of what I was used to.

I looked away, counting him out for what I had come looking for. None of the other men or women inside were remotely appealing to me, but since I was already here, I decided to finish my drink. I didn’t have any dire reason to rush home.

Molly was gone for three days. Nothing was waiting for me at the house but an annoying hole in the ceiling and the depressing emptiness that made me take a hellish stroll down memory lane.