I never knew her hair was so special to her sisters. “She wanted to change it,” I tell them. “Can you all be supportive of this?”
Lily frowns in deeper confusion. “You really wanted to change your hair, Rose?”
Daisy keeps shaking her head. “This doesn’t feel right, does it?”
Rose takes a sharper breath and pulls back her shoulders, getting in the game. “Call it what you want,” she replies, “a quarter-life crisis or a change of scenery—I just felt impulsive and destructive and…” Her nose flares. She lifts her chin. “And I did what I wanted. So there.” If we were alone, I would fuck her.
“So there?” Lo gives her another look like her body has been hijacked by fictional creatures. “Didn’t you used to brush your hair three-hundred times a day?”
“I can still brush my hair even if it’s blonde, and the absurd frequency is a rumor that one of you”—she points between Daisy and Lily—“started behind my back.”
Lily crinkles her nose. “Might’ve been me.”
Daisy stares up at the ceiling. “Or me.”
“And I think we said one-hundred brush strokes, didn’t we?” Lily asks Daisy and mouths, when was this?
Daisy shrugs and shakes her head. “New Year’s?” she whispers.
Rose snaps her fingers repeatedly. “Concentrate.”
Lily and Daisy spin back to her sister, both of them standing taller like her minions or soldiers, when in fact they’re her adoring, admiring little sisters. I can see, between them, why Rose would want this for Jane. I want it for her too, someday. It’s what we’re fighting for in the end.
“I am blonde now,” Rose says proudly. “Deal with it.”
My lips rise.
“Queen Rose has spoken,” Lo banters.
“I’m going to wash Rose’s hair and then we can head out,” I announce to the room.
Lily nods, stealing one more look at Rose before she departs. Daisy follows suit.
Loren reaches the doorway but doesn’t leave. Instead, someone else walks in. I rub my mouth, frustration pulling my brows. When I meet Rose’s eyes, she’s smiling at me, the smug kind of smile that I always have for her. She’s gloating at my distress.
I nearly turn towards the counter, my erection worsening. When I need one fucking second, I lose five more. Time is rarely on my side.
Ryke walks further into the bathroom, holding lime-green Nikes by the neon blue laces. He stops short, jaw unhinging at the sight of Rose. “What the fuck.”
Rose crosses her arms, tightening the shirt which unfortunately pops a few of her buttons, unbeknownst to her. I restrain myself from pinching the bridge of my nose.
I motion between the two of them. “Rose has decided to dye her hair. Of the events we’ve all shared together, this is really mundane.”
“It’s fucking weird,” Ryke mutters, his gaze lingering on her breasts.
After Rose’s warped image of me sharing her with another man, one I don’t celebrate at all, I’m not really in the mood for a wandering male gaze. I almost walk in front of her, which would piss her off more than it would help any situation.
Lo smacks the back of his brother’s head before I move a muscle.
“Fucking A, let me process this,” Ryke says, rubbing beneath his hair.
“Process what?” I ask. “Rose’s hair or her breasts. You do know that women have them, right? Or are you just now figuring out basic human anatomy?”
Ryke flips me off.
“Oh good, he knows where his fingers are,” I banter. Rose begins to button her shirt.
“Fuck you,” he curses.
“No, fuck you.” My facial muscles tighten. Definitely, not in the mood.
Ryke raises his hands now, understanding that I’m not playing around. “Look, I don’t fucking care what anyone does to their hair. I just wanted to give these to Rose.” He nods to her. “I know you won’t rent rock climbing shoes or wear any kind of footwear that’s been previously used, but Daisy had an extra pair. I figure she’s your sister, so it might be different. She said you two were about the same size.” He still has one of the shoelaces looped on his finger.
They’re not rock climbing shoes, but they’re slender sneakers with what looks like good tread, a decent alternative.
Rose drills a hole in them, like they’ve offended her. “What are those?”
I answer first, “Sneakers. Tennis shoes. Running shoes. There are a plethora of useless names for them in my opinion.”
When her eyes ping to me, they narrow. And I grin, any sort of annoyance starting to seep into better sentiments that I enjoy.
“Your opinions are useless,” she retorts.
“And your opinions are biased. Do you want to keep going?”
Lo cuts in, “Please don’t.”
It takes Rose an extended moment to detach her gaze from mine, fixing it on Ryke. “You can leave those things by the door.”
Lo elbows Ryke’s arm. “You’re a common serf in their kingdom, bro. Don’t take it too personally.”
Rose frowns. “You know what serf means?”
Lo rolls his eyes. “Jesus, I’m not an idiot. I may’ve been expelled from college, but I can count to one-hundred and multiply and divide too.”
“A borderline genius,” I quip.
Lo winks. “I knew all this time you were scared I’d beat you.”
“You have a way with words,” I say honestly. “Most men should be frightened of you.” I’m not most men, but this is the truth. Once he has confidence in himself, he should be unstoppable.
Lo digests my statement with a nod, hearing my sincerity.
Ryke brings us back to the point. “You have to wear these, Rose. I’ll put them right here, but you can’t show up in the car or at the gym with high heels on.”
Rose sighs heavily. “What if—”
“No,” Ryke forces.
Rose glares. “You suck.”
“How old are you?” Lo interjects.
Rose flips him off.
I grin. “I’m the oldest here—”
I can’t even finish my statement before Rose interjects, “I’m twenty-six too.”
“Yeah, me too.” Ryke sets the Nikes by the door.
We all look to Lo, who’s just twenty-five “What?” he snaps. “Do you three have some sort of older kid’s club.” Slightly, yes. We talk about Lo and Lily and Daisy all the time. Right now, no one says anything, and he glowers. “I was joking.”
“I’ll wear the sneakers,” Rose diverts the conversation.
“Thank you.” Ryke taps the door frame on his way out.
Lo walks backwards as he begins to leave. “Ten minutes? Will you be ready then?”
I need more than that, but clearly we’ve lost time. “Fifteen,” I amend. “We’ll meet you downstairs.”
Lo nods, and as he disappears into the master bedroom, I lock the door behind him.
* * *
Rose immediately spins towards the sink, drumming her nails on the marble counter. I come up behind her, the pungent bleach watering her eyes. I suspect it burns her scalp, but she won’t complain of pain until she has third degree burns.
While I tower above her, inspecting her hair with sight alone, she says, “Rape me.”
I set a hand on the counter, beside her waist, my confusion pushing me towards her when it should do the opposite. Her eyes are blazing through the mirror. I’m not sure I heard her correctly. I say, “Parlez clairement.” Speak clearly.