A.N.: Patience, Tori, patience; the time will come! :P Hehe! I'm just now figuring out when and how everything goes down at the party and afterwards! (You know, Christian Todd's party—but with a twist, since Kayla Bird isn't in the picture! I'm seeing visions of Finn dancing like a slut to Def Leppard—consequently the band my ex-housemate's boyfriend dances like a complete whore to when he's drunk!)


Rose Amongst Thorns

Chapter Fifteen

The Morning After


Rose understood why Regina and John had implemented the 'hands off Rose' rule last Thursday at the family meeting. When she slipped out of her bedroom the next morning to shower, Finn's door burst open when she was halfway across the hallway when he appeared, heavy-eyed and tousle-haired, half-naked, his boxers tented. Rose stilled, flicked her eyes over him, and felt herself blushing.

"Hey," he rumbled sleepily.

"Good morning," she managed to say, keeping her tone light and teasing. Those gorgeous lips had been on hers last night. They had spent hours talking in his studio-shed, and then they had kissed. He had even kissed her scar, the one part of her body that she was embarrassed about people seeing because it was so horrible. He had made it feel beautiful to her, as if it wasn't something she should be embarrassed about or cover up.

Finn yawned widely, covering his mouth with his hand.

"What time did you get in from the studio last night?" Rose asked curiously. She had stayed up till almost one o'clock reading, and thinking, and hadn't heard him come in.

"Almost two," Finn said, yawning again. "Shouldn't've. You going in the shower?"

"Yeah. I'll leave some cold water for you," Rose said quietly, flicking her eyes to his boxers again and smiling; Finn blushed, and she locked the bathroom door behind her, climbed into the shower, and laughed to herself at the look on his face.

But she had realised why Regina and John were worried about any of their sons showing an interest in her—well, she couldn't know exactly what their concerns were, but she knew at least a little part of it was that they didn't want things to be awkward.

It was strangely surreal to be showering in the same house as the boy who had kissed her lived in, without her having slept in his bed, with him. But unlike those very few times when she had done the walk of shame back home (after nude kissing; she had never had sex and wasn't ashamed or embarrassed to admit it) which she could count on one hand with fingers to spare, she didn't feel the rush of panic and flaming blushes of humiliation. She felt…oddly calm. Her heart-rate was on overdrive, and her body felt strangely sensitive to the feel of the water splashing onto her skin and the heat of it, the coolness of the glass shower-door, the rough grips of the bath-mat at her feet, the frothy creaminess of her shampoo, but she felt calm. She finished washing her hair with her favourite conditioner, used her facial cleanser, shaved and shut off the water.

She wrapped herself in a towel, collected her pyjamas, and slipped out of the bathroom. Finn and Doug were fighting over who would get the shower next, wrestling on the hallway floor in their boxers, and seeing the open bathroom door, Evan hopped over his brothers, slammed the bathroom door and locked it before his brothers could shout in indignation and start pounding on the door for him to hurry up. This was a daily occurrence, so Rose wasn't worried about the bathroom door being hammered down.

In her bedroom, she did her daily routine with Body Butter lotion, face SPF-cream, and checked to see if any of her multiple injuries needed re-bandaging. They had begun to heal overnight when she'd taken the bandages off and let them get some air while she slept, so they didn't need band-aids or anything, but the bruise on her hip was now the colour of a murdered eggplant.

She picked out the softest black cotton t-shirt she owned, which was quite flimsy, nearly see-through, and woven with a speckled, almost safari-like pattern that wasn't noticeable unless the fabric was held in front of a light, with a pair of J Brand dark-wash flare jeans that sat snugly, low on her hips, tugged on black lace-waist bikini panties and her favourite black lace 'Love' Agent Provocateur bra, and did her makeup, with subtle smoky eyeshadow and a lashing of mascara and some glistening iridescent pink lip-gloss, and blow-dried her hair. She made a casual, messy side-parting, secured a headband of braided black and gold leather straps behind her ears and worked her hair back into a messy but elegant bun at the base of her neck over the ends of the headband, securing it with invisible pins. She put her favourite jewellery on; Hermés watch, gold hoop earrings, Dogeared 'Karma' bracelets and her Benjamin sunglasses. She made sure she had everything for school and made her way downstairs, grabbing a baggie of Cheez-Its and a carton of grape Juicy-Juice, refilled her water-bottle, and sat down to breakfast, making sure Caleb didn't spill milk all over the table like he had yesterday whilst trying to pour it onto his cereal, and refilling the coffee-machine for the others. She still didn't drink coffee, though she liked the smell.

"Good morning, Rosie," Regina said, striding into the kitchen. Rosalie glanced up from her bowl of Cap'n Crunch and smiled.

"Morning."

"What time did you get to bed last night?" Regina asked. "I didn't hear you get in from the studio."

"Quite late," Rose said quietly, begging the blood cells in her cheeks not to flood. "We had a good talk."

"You find out what happened on his date?" Regina asked.

"We dissected it, yes," Rose said, smiling.

"Oh, that's too bad," Regina sighed, shaking her head. "Was it that bad?"

"I think Finn had an okay time; it was an important day for him, learning that the girl he thought he liked wasn't who he thought she was, if that makes any sense," Rose said, frowning at her own phrasing.

"He was a little disappointed," Regina nodded. "Oh, well, I'm sure there are other girls just waiting to throw themselves at Finn. He's such a sweet boy."

"He is," Rose smiled, even as her stomach did an odd flip-flop, making her Cap'n Crunch churn. Had she 'thrown herself' at Finn last night? She frowned; no. They had just sort of…kissed. She didn't know how or why it had started; one minute they she was staring at one of Finn's paintings, the next she was lying with her thighs cradling his knee and her hands skimming over his bare chest, his fingers tangled in her hair.

"So, how did you like his studio?" Regina asked, smiling. "He never lets anyone in there, you know?"

"Really?"

"Mm. Never shows us his paintings, either," Regina said, shaking her head. "The only time I've seen his work is when he's had an exhibition at school."

"I think he's our art teacher's favourite," Rose said. "He's very talented. My mom would love some of the paintings he's done." She said it so casually, and for a second she had forgotten…would have loved

"Well," Regina sighed, glancing at Rose with that look she knew so well, the 'is she going to break?' look, "if that's true, I'm just glad all that money we're spending on paints and canvasses is paying off. If he gets that scholarship to RISD like he wants, it'll all be worth it, even though he probably wouldn't show us his work even then."

"I think he just needs someone to tell him his stuff is actually good," Rose said thoughtfully. "He didn't seem all that confident about his paintings."

"He doesn't really know how to blow his own horn," Regina chuckled, eyes twinkling at Rose. "Well, I'm glad you two are becoming friends." Rose smiled, nodding, and turned back to her cereal. Oh GOD. If she had been a more verbal person she might have started jabbering hysterically.

She waited for the boys to breakfast and get ready, playing Go Fish with Caleb at the island while he waited for Ian so they could walk to the bus-stop, and so Ian could walk him to the door of his first-grade elementary school class. When Evan had finished doing his hair in front of the hallway mirror, it was a free-for-all to get snacks and remember lunch money and homework assignments, and then they were all climbing into Evan's Saab—Rose looked wistfully through the window at her truck, standing there all old and lonely by the barn—but Evan's morning driving routine meant lack of concern about the speed-limit so they could go to the donut shop in the Sunol Boulevard plaza for a big bag of fresh donut-holes, and didn't allow for Rose to feel too sorry for her truck for long.


Rose was not a particularly anxious type of girl. She wasn't usually so concerned with thinking that people kept staring at her and whispering. And they were for the most part girls. She could feel them staring at the back of her head when she walked past, and when she caught their eyes they dropped theirs and started whispering to their friends. Rose checked her outfit. Her top was a little see-through, but not enough so that the admin staff would make her change into her gym shirt. She wasn't wearing her jeans the wrong way round, and no one could see her injuries today. As she approached her locker during break, Rose felt certain more eyes were on her, more whispers following her, and wondered if there was something on her face or in her teeth. No. She checked in her little mirror from her little cosmetics bag. Nothing was wrong—so why was everyone looking at her?

Unless living with the McGowans had given her an anxiety complex—or they'd somehow found out she'd been lying in Finn's lap last night kissing him in candlelight barely four hours after he'd dropped his date at home. She worked on her combination for her locker.

"Hey," Aimee said, walking over. She looked tired as she leaned back against the wall next to Rose's locker; Aimee sucked at reading and they'd both been given huge reading assignments in History due today, so she'd probably crammed after getting home from the mall.

"Hey," Rose said quietly, taking out her swimsuit and beach-towel for gym next period. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Aimee smiled.

"Am I going stir-crazy or do people keep looking at me and whispering?" Rose asked, her cheeks flushing. Aimee chortled a little laugh.

"Oh. Yeah—er, you're kinda our new celebrity," she chuckled, smirking amusedly. Rose blinked.

"What?"

"It's kind of gotten round that you sparred with Hailey yesterday after practice and survived," Aimee grinned. "Everyone's talking about the new girl who put Hailey Farmer in her place."

"Oh," Rose groaned. "Really?"

"Yup," Aimee laughed. "So what did you do after you got home from the mall last night? I had to cram in all that reading for History."

"Actually, I'd already finished that—I went to hang out with Finn in his studio," Rose said. Aimee looked impressed. "Oh—and I asked Regina about you guys coming over Friday afternoon; it's no trouble."

"Oh, great!" Aimee grinned. "I'm sorry about Pearl kinda pinning it on you like that yesterday at dinner. She gets like that sometimes; she refuses to be signed up for obedience training." Rose laughed.

"It's okay," she smiled. "To be honest, I think Regina will love having girls in the house just as much as Ria and Pearl will love seeing the guys in their natural habitat."

"You make it sound like it's a jungle," Aimee laughed.

"You've never been over their house, have you?" Rose guessed, and Aimee laughed again and shook her head. "Well, I'll give you some warnings…" She and Aimee talked for the rest of break, and when Ria, Jenna and Pearl showed up, Rose and Pearl made their way to the pool locker-rooms for swimming.

"This unit seriously messes with my hair," Pearl pouted, flicking a brush through her water-slick blonde hair. They'd just left the showers; Rose still had her swim-cap on, and snapped it off as soon as she'd towelled herself dry and slipped into her underwear.

"Tell me about it," Rose said, wrinkling her nose as she smoothed her hands over her hair; she pulled out her mini travel hair-dryer and turned it on, drying the locks of hair framing her face and at her neck that hadn't been kept completely dry by the swimming-cap, and then handed it to Pearl to borrow. They were late to Art, but Miss Willow didn't mind; she shot them a grin and waved a hand airily at their usual table, which was empty and waiting for them. Rose opened her sketchbook and started drawing the first thing that came into her mind.

Finn.

Finn lying on the garden bench, shirtless and bathed in candlelight. Her stomach turned to something molten and temperamental and sensitive. She was so ensconced with her sketch that she didn't hear the bell, and Pearl had already disappeared by the time she had packed up her stuff and made another apology to Miss Willow for being late. But she had a plan, anyway; she wouldn't be sitting with the girls today.


She waited by the doors to the cafeteria, and spotted the now-familiar blonde crew-cut and the clean Abercrombie polo-tops Miller preferred; today's was teal-blue, and she knew if she could just get him to look up, the colour would make his eyes pop like Fourth of July fireworks.

"Hi Miller," she said, pushing herself away from the wall as soon as she saw him. Dozens of students streamed by her on their way in to the cafeteria, and they all had to dodge Miller, who stopped suddenly in the centre of the doorway. "The Yankees aren't playing today, are they?"

"No, it's a travel day," Miller said.

"Okay, good. Well… I was thinking, maybe we could sit inside for lunch," Rose said hopefully. She just hoped he was ready for this. "It looks like it might rain, anyway."

She hadn't realised she'd held her breath until Miller set his jaw and nodded. "It looks like it might rain, anyway," he repeated.

"Cool," Rose smiled. Then he started walking, chin lifted, his expression almost defiant. He got to the very first table, pulled out a chair, and sat, hugging his bag in his lap. This was a lot of progress he was making in one great leap, and she hoped he didn't get freaked out by it—but she was unaccountably proud of him. She'd barely known him more than a week, but of all of the McGowan boys, she might like Miller the best. Perhaps because, despite his handicap, he was the most willing of the brothers to get to know her—or at least, she'd thought so, until Finn had coerced her into jumping into the deep-end of the McGowan family pool.

She put her backpack down on the chair across from his.

"Do you want me to get your lunch?" she asked. He looked like he was barely holding it together as it was.

"Yes, please," he said, glancing up at her. She'd been right; the teal colour of his polo did make his eyes pop with the most searing intensity. Her knees almost knocked together in a swoon at the sight of them. Aimee was not going to know what hit her if she ever saw Miller's eyes when he was wearing that shirt. "Hamburger, Coke with no ice, chocolate chip cookie."

Rose smiled. "Alright. I'll be right back. Don't be nervous, Miller—you're doing great." His lips twitched in a tiny smile. She darted off and made her way through the lunch-line. The day's special was taco-salad. Rose loved Mexican food. Casa Orozco was now her favourite restaurant, bypassing Bob's Giant Burger in Raleigh with their eight-inch swirled frozen yoghurt cones. She pulled a taco shell onto a plate, filled it with refried beans, Mexican rice, peppers, jalapenos, taco-seasoned beef, guacamole, salsa, shredded lettuce, sour cream and shredded cheddar-cheese. She picked out a cup of fresh fruit-salad, a natural Greek yoghurt, a sachet of honey, a bottle of cloudy lemonade, grabbed Miller's hamburger, Coke with no ice and chocolate-chip cookie, paid the woman with the fluorescent talons (she'd had them repainted, an acidic green colour) and made her way back to the table Miller had claimed for them.

She placed the tray down and let Miller take his food, rearranging everything the way he liked it, then looked at his meal and sighed.

"It's nice inside, isn't it," Rose said thoughtfully, settling into her seat and arranging her own meal, unwrapping her spork and napkin.

"It's loud."

"Not near half as loud as you crank up that old radio of yours," Rose teased.

Miller smiled. Slowly, he removed his backpack from his lap and placed it on the chair to his right, just as Rose had done on her side of the table. He picked up his burger and took a small bite. Soon his smile widened to a grin. Rose was knocked breathless by it. She started on her taco salad.

"I knew you could do this if you set your mind to it," Rose said, warm with affection for Miller. Even when the brothers had conspired against her with a house-wide freeze-out, she had still liked Miller. Couldn't help it; she had a soft spot for him. Maybe because he was so sincere when they talked. "My daddy used to say we can do anything we set our minds to."

"Did you know that the Yankees used to be called the New York Highlanders? What was he like?" Miller asked.

"What was who like?"

"Your dad?" Rose hadn't really talked to anyone about her parents since the accident. She was still trying to wrap her head around it, what she had seen, the police and Lori and James Alexander with her, Pogue hugging her though she hadn't realised why, too stunned. But she made the effort for Miller.

She told him about her dad, how he loved basketball and how they'd always watch Tar Heels games together and how he'd loved Harleys and had taught her to play soccer and baseball and how to tune an engine and build a motorcycle from scratch and take her downtown on a Sunday morning so she could see all the other vintage mint Harleys and Indians belonging to motorcycle-club members impressed by her knowledge of motorcycle-engines, standing outside the coffee shop. She told Miller about the first time she had ever been asked out on a date, and what had happened when the guy had showed up at the house to get her, how her daddy had threatened the kid that "whatever you do to my daughter, I do to you," and how she hadn't even gotten a goodnight kiss on the cheek from her date. She told Miller about the time her dad had taught her how to use a grill and forgotten the rack of ribs was barbecuing, only to find it on fire when they opened the lid and a huge burst of flames erupted.

They continued their fact-question game, until someone sighed and slung themselves into the seat next to Rose. Miller blinked, and turned to his burger. Rose glanced up and saw it was Evan.

"Oh. Hey," she said, uncapping her cloudy lemonade.

"Hey. I didn't know it was taco-salad day," Evan frowned at her half-eaten lunch. God, but taco salad was good.

"What's up?" Rose asked, a little irritated that Miller had clammed up at his brother's arrival. They were having a really good conversation—their best yet. Miller had been telling her all the things he loved about his mom, who was irrefutably his favourite member of the family.

"I just thought I'd come say hey. Hi, Mills," Evan said. Miller nodded, taking a bite of his burger.

"Looks like you've made a new friend, huh, Miller," Evan continued cheerfully. Miller nodded and took another bite of his burger. Rose suddenly really wanted Evan to leave. She wanted her Miller back, the one who was engaging and hopelessly endearing with his sincerity and straightforward way of thinking. "Rose is pretty cool, isn't she?"

"Rose misses her dad," Miller said. Evan blinked; he looked stunned. At the McGowans', Rose had rarely heard Miller talk of anything but baseball. In fact, the only time she'd ever heard him talk about anything else was during their games. And Evan was screwing with Miller's new mojo.

"I'm sure she does," Evan said solemnly, after digesting what Miller had said. Miller returned to his burger.

"So, why're you really over here?" Rose asked, catching sight of Hailey's spanked-ass face from across the cafeteria. "Have you talked to Hailey?"

"Oh, you know, she's, uh, being a bit unforgiving today," Evan said, reaching over, taking her spork and helping himself to her taco salad. Rose frowned and took the spork back when he'd finished.

"Why's that?"

"Well, everyone's talking about how you told her I'm a skirt-junkie and she should just deal," Evan laughed. Rose's cheeks flushed.

"Oh…I didn't mean it like that," she said hastily. "And I said if she thinks you're a skirt-junkie, she should deal with it with you. She'd just spent ninety minutes shoving me onto the ground."

"So you were a little bit ticked off," Evan said, smiling slightly. Rose flushed.

"Yeah," she said shamefully. "I really didn't mean anything by it."

"Stop apologising! I know that," Evan grinned, chuckling. "God, you're probably the most mild-mannered person I've ever met."

"So, you two haven't talked?" Rose asked.

"Well, I'm grounded. I have no cell-phone or MSN or even Facebook use," Evan sighed. "And she won't talk to me here, so that'd be a no. I can't believe my parents—a week's grounding, and a curfew just 'cause I snuck into the house through your window. Sorry about that box, by the way. I didn't damage any of the books, did I?"

"No, you didn't," Rose said. "Why don't you see if Hailey will come over to the house and talk? Your parents didn't say you couldn't have her over, did they?"

"Actually, no they didn't," Evan said slowly. "Good idea. Thanks, Chibs." He grinned, slipped an arm around her shoulders in a brief hug, and darted back to his table after a quick "Bye!" to his brother.

"He stole some of my taco-salad," Rose said, turning back to Miller, who smiled shyly. "Can you believe that—after I slaved away building it up, he just comes over and helps himself!" Miller was finished with his burger and onto his cookie and soda. While Rose finished her taco-salad, and then her fruit-cup and yoghurt with honey, they got back into the swing of their fact-question conversation, until the tense set of Miller's shoulders had relaxed and he looked happy about being in the cafeteria, surrounded by strangers. And Rose had done that. She'd put that smile on his face. She'd helped him see he could do the things nobody had ever encouraged him to try before. She felt another great swell of pride for Miller, and went to English and Math almost giddy with delight at their success.


A.N.: Please review. I just love Miller. He's just so cute in the book. I just want to give him huge kisses and have him teach me about baseball (I was a softball girl for three years, but I could never sit watching a baseball game on TV; I just don't see the point).