A.N.: Hi, please review!


Rose Amongst Thorns

Chapter Thirty-Two

Repercussions


Holy shit.

Rose woke up peacefully; it was the fact that she woke up with a boy draped around her that made her eyes widen and her heartbeat quicken. As she squirmed, trying to get some distance from this boy who had invited himself—naked—into her bed, she realised that she, too, was naked, and that remnants of pain still twinged between her legs every time she moved. Ow.

The events of last night swept over her; the beer, the catfight, Supernatural…and sex. She'd had sex last night for the first time. She glanced down, and the panic that had shot through her body at waking up with someone's arms draped familiarly around her eased. Finn, his hair tousled and sticking up at odd angles, his lips plump from kissing, breathing gently, looked so adorable when sleeping that she didn't want to wake him. She glanced at her clock and her heart sank; it was seven a.m.

Yes, she had come upstairs from the party very early, and she'd only had about two cups of beer…but it was a Saturday morning.

She had cross-country training in two hours.

And she had had sex.

Standing in the shower, she stared at the wall at the end of the tub. "I had sex," she murmured, stunned. She had had sex for the first time ever, with Finn. Her housemate, a boy she'd known less than a month, a boy whose parents had forbidden him or any of his brothers from laying a finger on her.

She didn't mind the finger on her—she smiled cheekily; actually, she thought she preferred that to anything else… The smile slid off her face.

She'd had sex with an almost complete stranger.

She blinked dazedly and swallowed, bowing her head to rub shampoo into her hair. Without thinking about it, she rubbed the shampoo in, taking much longer than she usually would. She was thinking.

Rose had always imagined losing her virginity to her high-school sweetheart, to a boy she had known for months if not years; she wanted the kind of high-school romance producers made movies about, the kind that was sweet and tentative but utterly natural because she'd known the guy for so long. She'd thought it would be the inevitable conclusion to the relationship…not the other way around.

She had never wanted to be that girl…the girl who slept with anyone her first time just to get it over with.

That wasn't what it was, she thought, glancing at the bathroom-door through the shower-curtain. No, what they had wasn't an epic romance; Rose doubted Finn's parents would let them even date. It hadn't just been a let's-get-that-pesky-hymen-out-of-the-way; they had both wanted to feel…each other. They had both known what was happening, what they wanted; Rose knew in that moment last night there had been nothing she wanted more than Finn Greyer McGowan.

But now that she was out of that atmosphere, the romantic haven Finn had made for them in her bedroom…now that she had woken up…her eyes burned, and she knew she could never take it back.

She had slept with a boy she wasn't even dating, probably never could even date, while a party had raged downstairs, and Miller watched baseball next-door.

She was no better than Doug.

It was lucky that she had cross-country training, and therefore a legitimate excuse to run out of the house and stay out. She ran to training, warming up, then they all ran a ninety-minute track through the woods and creeks and backcountry. Rose didn't have much time to talk; Aimee apologised for not being able to get away from a family thing to come to the party, but, really, after what had happened last night, Rose wasn't mad at her as much as she was stunned and upset with herself. Miss Smith noted that something was motivating Rose more than usual, because she left everyone behind in the dust. When practice over, she refused Aimee's offer of a ride home and jogged back to the McGowans' house.

By the time she got back, she could smell strong black coffee, courtesy of Sean, who was reading at the kitchen-table, eating a bowlful of Count Chocula. He had already started to clean up the debris of the party, with several trash-bags filled with empty cups and plates and general mess.

"Hey," Rose said quietly, going to the fridge door to fill a glass with ice-water, and downing three.

"Yeah," Sean said, eyes on his book. Her chest heaving, her heartbeat hammering in her ears, sweat dripping from her skin, Rose ambled upstairs, slipped into her bedroom, picked out an outfit, her shoes and grabbed her purse, snuck into the shower, and met Miller downstairs while he attempted to organise the detritus scattered around the kitchen. She had combed her wet hair and was pulling it into a fishtail braid, and finished it with a see-through elastic.

"Hey," she said softly, resting her hands on Miller's shoulders, seeing that he was getting agitated by the mess. "Why don't we go out for breakfast, hm?"

Miller nodded, and she directed him out of the house, hoping that by the time they returned, there would be fewer things for him to get upset over.

They went to Jim's Diner; Rose needed major comfort-food. She got a huge Belgian waffle topped with fresh fruit, bananas, thick sticky syrup and sweet whipped cream, a big thick-thick chocolate-chip milkshake and shared a dish of curly-fries with Miller, the Curly-Fry King, who demolished the world's biggest—at least, Massachusetts' biggest—BLT sandwich, fries, and milkshake. A bottomless stomach was the gift John had given his sons—and his good-looks, but for a shy fifteen-year-old boy, the bottomless stomach was the more useful gift.

It was a quiet meal, giving Rose time to reflect and agitate herself something dreadful; Miller seemed to know something was up, and only spoke a little bit. They talked about Aimee; how she had asked Rose to apologise to Miller for not being at the party, and that she hoped he'd forgive her and give her a shot to make it up to him. That made him smile into his BLT-sandwich, and Rose smiled too, because of that little smile.

Rose paid for lunch, resisting Miller's attempts to put some of his allowance into the cheque, and asked if Miller wouldn't mind going to the Farmer's Market and public library. He said he didn't, and so Rose parked up on Second Street and they walked to West Angela Street, where the white gazebos had been erected, and people were selling their wares.

They wandered. It was nice, just being with Miller, being able to dawdle and stop and look at things. Miller's allowance seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket, because he bought a big bag of kettle-corn for them to share, and Rose took him over to the stall that sold a bunch of stuff, including old baseball cards; Rose went to the book-stall and filled a small cardboard crate with books at 50¢ and $1 apiece. She bought a posy of freesias and late peonies for Regina, and some small sunflowers for her room. Miller met up with her, looking flushed and pleased, holding a little brown paper bag and the kettle-corn. They worked their way around the market, tasting all samplers available, watching demonstrations, and Rose wanted to know if the Chocolate Labrador puppy Regina had seen the other week was still here; Poppy had found a new home, unfortunately, but she and Miller had fun making up names for the dogs that weren't as fortunate. They bought fresh raspberry-lemonade slushies at one of the food stalls and Rose bought some vegetables to cook for dinner over the weekend; she would not be eating takeout every night. Miller worked on looking people in the face if they said hello to him at a stall.

It was a nice day, considering how jarring and unsettling it had begun for Rose; she and Miller went to the public library and both came away with about a dozen books apiece; Miller's were on the Yankees, baseball, Shakespeare and a companion guide to Great Expectations. Rose had just picked out whatever took her fancy in the fiction section, and when they got home, the boys, including Sean and some of their friends, were playing a shirts-and-skins game of Frisbee. Rose had looked up ultimate Frisbee and knew they were playing it wrong; Miller had explained they played it by McGowan rules; really, it was just football with a Frisbee.

Rose would never understand contact-sports, and she thought she could die without having to listen to an explanation of ice-hockey.

"So, I take it there's no cleaning going on," Rose said, as she and Miller unloaded their stuff from the truck-bed.

"We cleaned!" Finn said indignantly. He caught her eye and his eyes crackled with intensity; Rose smiled to cover the sinking feeling in her stomach and her blush. I've seen him naked, she thought; apparently, he was having no doubts about what had happened last night. Why would he; he's a guy, Rose thought.

"We've been breaking our backs. Where've you been?" Doug demanded.

"I had cross-country practice…then Miller and I went for lunch and to the Farmer's Market and the public library," Rose smiled. "We would've asked you, but you were probably still puking." Most of the boys looked distinctly green about the gills, so Rose wondered what they were doing running around in this heat. They should be sipping coffee and sodas, downing aspirin and Pepto-Bismol.

Some of the boys laughed. Rose grabbed the last bag of shopping and walked inside, to various wolf-whistles, feeling eyes on her backside as she walked up the porch steps and into the cool house.

The boys had cleaned; by their definition, yes. The cups and plates had been put in trash-bags and thrown out; the kitchen had been tidied as per Miller's requirements; the empty pizza boxes had been stacked in the recycling pile in the garage; the leftover food had been decanted into baggies and tubs, and the pizza had been put on plates in the fridge. Several packets of burgers and some steaks stood in the fridge, with the fixings for a barbecue; salads, coleslaw, potato-salad, four-bean salad, the fixings for a Greek salad, and devilled eggs, beets to cut up, corn on the cob.

"We're having barbecue later," someone said, and Rose glanced over her shoulder; Sean had emerged and was going through the titles of the second-hand books she had bought at the market.

"Cool," Rose smiled. When Sean had grabbed a cup of coffee and gone back outside, Rose grabbed the vacuum and Swiffer and started to work; she vacuumed the whole of the downstairs, cleaned the downstairs bathroom, Swiffered the kitchen floor and tidied everything. By the time that was finished, it was nearly three o'clock, and she had homework to do, so she went upstairs, turned on Motörhead and finished her History reading and note-making, planned her next English essay for A Midsummer Night's Dream, did her French grammar homework and tidied her notes, and then had to bow to the inevitable and asked Miller for help with her math homework.

The guy was truly gifted. It didn't piss her off one little bit that he could just look at the page in her textbook for a minute and then was teaching her how to do the problems in a way that, bless him for trying, Mr Jones her teacher just hadn't been able to get across to her.

Didn't mean she didn't lose all faith in her abilities as a juvenile mathematician, flung her pencil down and smacked her face against her math textbook in frustration. Miller patted her back and Rose pouted and grumbled but eventually got back to work.

When she and Miller went downstairs, having just finished their math homework, Rose paused and sniffed; someone was already cooking the steaks and burgers; she and Miller walked into the kitchen, and Miller stopped short, glancing at Rose from the corner of his eye.

Sean, Evan and Finn all stood around the island, making four-bean salads or wrapping corn in foil, making veggie kebabs to grill with eggplant, zucchini, peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms and chunks of red-onion, tossing a Greek salad. Someone had gone out and bought a big sticky chocolate Bundt cake for dessert. Rose wasn't surprised that Doug wasn't there; but that the other boys were helping each other prepare a meal… She reached for her digital camera in her purse, which she had left down at the kitchen-table, and snapped several photographs, also on her phone, sending one to Regina's cell-phone so she could see.

"Hey," Finn smiled, his eyes licking her as the boys noticed they had arrived downstairs. Rose smiled, her stomach going all wobbly, and stepped closer, eyeing the spread.

"Do you need any help?" Rose asked. She wasn't used to feeling irrelevant; she was in charge of the kitchen.

"Er…if you could set the table," Finn shrugged. "We're eating outside, as it's so nice out. It's supposed to get cold this week."

"Mm. Wonderful," Rose grimaced. Cold. She didn't like the sound of that. Miller grabbed a tablecloth and Rose counted out cutlery and plates; Sean had retreated outside to the grill, and was standing over the steaks and burgers whilst drinking a sweating Corona. Miller spread the tablecloth, and helped Rose set the places, and bring out the dishes already prepared to eat.

Rose went inside and grabbed the big packet of organic strawberries she had bought at the market; she rinsed them, cut off the tops, and cut them up, sugared them and grinded a little black pepper onto them, mixing them up; she covered them and set them on the side for later, to eat with the chocolate cake.

It was a strange day. Strange, because despite the colossal thing that had happened last night, life went on as normal. Only Rose and Finn knew what had happened and she suspected only she was feeling the repercussions of being as hasty as they had been.

Sitting at the table, surrounded by one boy who rarely looked up from a book, another boy who had previously slapped her and didn't want to even look at her, one boy whom she had just lost her virginity to, another boy learning to deal with Asperger's, and another boy who hated basically everyone at the table, it was just a normal day, except the lost-virginity part. Every time Finn brushed against her, her body reacted, and she knew…

She knew she hadn't made the wrong choice. It would have been him, anyway…she thought. But doing it last night, during a raging party, after not even a month of knowing him…?

No; she shouldn't have done it.

She was sitting curled up on her bed after dinner, eating a heaped plateful of chocolate cake, strawberries, Ben & Jerry's ice-cream and Cool Whip, reading the entries she had made about the photographs of Lucia; she reached for another packet of photographs and uncapped her pen with her teeth, and started to write.

By the time she had finished writing about every single photograph, whether it was just a little line, something Lucia or her parents had said that day, or an epic anecdote, she had written something for each photograph, and was proud and glad she could still remember every tiny detail. She was proud and ashamed at the same time, that she might have but hadn't forgotten her little sister.

Finn snuck into her room just as she started to watch the long, BBC-production of Pride and Prejudice. He came and sat on the bed next to her, not touching, just…sitting. Until the first episode ended with Jane and Lizzy returning to Longbourne, when he reached for the remote and hit pause; he sighed, and caught her eye.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

"No, I haven't," Rose blushed, but she knew she had. Cross-country training couldn't be counted, as she had her commitments…but breakfast with Miller, and the Farmer's Market…the library…all excuses not to go home, not to have to see Finn and have this conversation. The 'I thought last night was great…but I think we should just be friends' conversation she knew they had to have if they were going to live with each other for two more years. She mumbled into her knees; "I royally screwed this one up."

"What're you talking about?" Finn said, gently taking her hand. Curse her, her body responded to that! She took a shuddering breath and glanced over her bedroom. She shrugged, too embarrassed to really tell Finn what was on her mind. "Rosalie, come on, you can talk to me about anything, you know that… You think…you think we rushed into things last night."

Rose glanced up, flushing. Either he could read minds or she was just very transparent.

"Don't you think?" she mumbled. Finn exhaled heavily.

"I think…we could've taken things a little slower than we did, yeah," he said carefully. Rose glanced up; he licked his lips, his cheeks flushing embarrassedly. "I…I thought you were…that you wanted to…"

"I did," Rose said quickly, then blushed embarrassedly. Finn frowned.

"I don't…understand," he admitted, sighing softly. He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "If you wanted to, why…why d'you think we shouldn't have done it?"

Because I'm in over my head, falling in love with you, Rose wanted to say, but she didn't; "Because we have to live together," she said, glancing up. "We have to live with each other for two more years. Your parents already forbade you from even getting ideas about me; what'll happen if they ever find out we—had sex," Rose said quietly, flushing again. Finn bit his lip.

"They'd…be disappointed that we went against their rules, and…they'd probably castrate me, and they'd be worried about you," Finn said, flushing. All very astute, very real reactions for John and Regina. Except the castration part; she didn't think they'd do that to Finn. But they would be disappointed, and worried. Finn swallowed and caught her eye. "They'd be angry at me for taking advantage of you."

"You didn't!"

"But you—you just said you think we shouldn't have done it!"

"I didn't say that," Rose protested, her heart in her throat; heat washed over her face and throat and she licked her lips. "I said we shouldn't have done it…when we did. I didn't say I didn't want to, period; and I didn't say that I didn't want to do it last night—because I did."

Finn frowned again, but it was more subtle than last time; he looked confused and a little hurt; Rose leaned forward and brushed a tiny kiss against his lips.

"Finn, I never said I didn't want to. That would make me a liar. Because I did want to, and when we were… I mean…even though it hurt, I still…still liked it," Rose blushed.

"You did?" Finn murmured. Rose nodded and reached for another kiss.

"Mm-hmm," Rose said softly. She sat back and smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing. "I liked it a lot…being with you, that way…"

"Me too," Finn whispered, tracing his lips over hers. Rose slipped her arms around his middle and rested her cheek against his chest. She heard his heart beating, and his sigh. "So…What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Rose half-whispered.

"Well, we can't let my parents know," Finn said thoughtfully.

"No," Rose agreed.

"They'd probably kill me. Or send me to a monastery."

"I don't think they'd do that," Rose said, laughing softly. "They might ground you till you're forty…"

"Seriously bad for my social life," Finn tutted softly. Rose smiled. "Alright, so we just…just keep this to ourselves."

"Yeah," Rose said softly. Keep it to ourselves, like it's something we should be ashamed of, she added, sadness soaking through her body.

It was late when John and Regina returned from Portland, Rhode Island, with a groggy, grumpy Ian and a sleeping Caleb. Rose and Finn were watching Supernatural and eating second-helpings of dessert, while Finn sketched and Rose put together some pages for Lucia's scrapbook. The boys were tucked straight to bed, and Regina and John saw Rose's light on and came to say goodnight before they turned in, tired from driving; they saw Finn sketching, and smiled, thinking that she and Finn were probably getting to be very good friends.

"Okay, so that wasn't so awkward," Finn murmured.

"I don't have a red 'A' on my chest, do I?" Rose whispered back, turning to Finn; he took his time eyeing her chest, then smirked slowly.

"No," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"That's strange. I feel like I have an 'A' on my chest," Rose said. How could Regina not have noticed the huge flashing neon sign that said "WE HAD SEX LAST NIGHT!" above their heads?

Finn just chuckled and returned to his sketchbook.

Rose glanced at him, taking in his pretty profile, the broad sweep of his shoulders, his lean, taut arms, his large, talented hands. His eyelashes, the plump curve of his lips, the sweep of his cheekbones. No, she didn't regret doing it with him; she wasn't sure they'd done right by doing it last night, after not even three whole weeks of knowing each other.

Sunday was a lazy day. Rose woke up later than usual, mostly because she and Finn had stayed up late watching Supernatural and talking, working on their various art projects. Finn had at least made it back to his own bed, which was good! She put on her relaxed running gear, intent on going only for a light jog downtown to meet Aimee, who said she would be going downtown to get a coffee around midday, and was surprised when Miller peeked through his open door from his desk and smiled.

"Can I come with you?" he asked. Rose blinked.

"I—if you want to," she said, a little stunned. None of the boys ever wanted to go running with her—not that she'd offered or they'd asked—but she would have thought going running with her would go against the house-wide freeze-out Doug had orchestrated. Miller was already wearing a pair of shorts and a Yankees t-shirt, laced up his sneakers, and followed her downstairs.

"Where are we going?" Miller asked happily, following Rose out of the house after she'd tucked her cash and phone into the little zippered pouch around her upper-arm with the iPod she wouldn't use.

"Uh, downtown," Rose said. "I mean, if you don't want to go that far, we can turn back; I don't wanna have to call your mom after rushing you to the hospital." Miller smiled, flushing pleasantly.

"Downtown," he nodded. Rose glanced at Miller and smiled.

"Aimee might be there," she said, and he glanced at her, and then blushed again, looking down at the floor; his smile was tiny, but Rose caught it.

They set off at an easy pace; Miller didn't complain if she went too fast; he just kept running steadily, at his own pace, the same way he did everything else, the way he was comfortable; she slowed her pace, and they ran perhaps twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, via the easy route through the park, before Meadowlark drive-thru dairy came into view. She called Aimee's cell-phone number, walking with Miller to the John Belucchi Memorial Park, and met Aimee, who was sipping an iced latté from Starbucks, similarly dressed in running gear, her face clean and glowing, her blonde hair falling in chunks around her face, having fallen out of its ponytail.

"Hi!"

"Hey," Aimee grinned, as Rose dropped onto the ground, Miller following her. "So, I heard about the catfight on Friday."

"Oh," Rose said, feeling her face flush. "Yeah… I…don't really know what happened."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Aimee laughed. "Cherie Anderson is just one crazy chick. It's my bet she's in the running for Most Likely to be Seen on Jerry Springer, or locked up with a white jacket. Everyone I've talked to said you got some good licks in." Rose shrugged.

"Just defending myself," she mumbled.

"I heard," Aimee smiled. "Well, I'm sorry I missed that. 'Cause I would've jumped right in there with you! It's drama, drama, drama at the McGowan house, isn't it, Miller?"

"'Lo, Aimee," Miller said quietly, chancing a covert glance at the girl. He smiled to himself, and Aimee beamed.

It was nice to get out of the house again; it was nice just to sit and chat with Aimee, without anyone eavesdropping or gossiping or staring. Aimee wanted to go and get a snack from Meadowlark Dairy, so Rose gave Miller some money, and winked encouragingly at him; she remained in the park, lying on the grass, glancing after the pair as they walked across the park, to the drive-thru dairy, probably not talking much, but not uncomfortable about it.

Rose hadn't realised she'd dozed off; Aimee's happy laugh woke her and she blinked dazedly, for a moment disoriented; then she saw dappled sunlight streaming through the swaying, swishing branches of a weeping willow, and two smiling faces looking down at her.

"How long were you gone for?" she grumbled, groaning as she hoisted herself into sitting-position.

"Long enough, I guess," Aimee laughed.

"I bought you this," Miller said quietly, handing her a swirled chocolate-vanilla frozen-yoghurt cone. Instead of buying a big one for himself like she'd told him, he'd gone ahead and bought two little ones for the same price; his sweetness was always touching. Rose smiled and accepted her ice-cream, and her change, and they continued to talk and laugh, Miller not so much of the former, more than usual of the latter; when Aimee had to leave to make it back to her house for a late lunch, Rose and Miller slowly made their way back to the house.

"I told you Aimee was lovely, didn't I?" Rose smiled, glancing at Miller, as they walked back across the park. "Do you like hanging out with her?"

"I like Aimee," Miller said, shrugging awkwardly. He looked pleased and a little unsettled, but definitely happy that he had been able to do something out of the ordinary—and seen Aimee in the process.

"Good," Rose smiled. "Because she likes you, too. You're getting better at talking to her."

"I practiced again," Miller said, and his smile grew. Rose linked arms with him and leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked. She sighed.

"Most people don't appreciate what a special guy you are, Mills," she said sadly. He was such a great kid; he was quiet, but he was thoughtful and sweet when he broke out of his shell. He was a very smart guy, with a 4.0 GPA almost his entire school career.

"Doug says I'm Special-Ed," Miller said, sounding a little sad. Rose sighed.

"I think I'll kill him," she said quietly. Miller chuckled softly.

"I'll come and visit you in prison," he said, and Rose laughed.

"Miller just made a funny," she teased.

"Rose…" Miller said thoughtfully.

"Yeah?"

"Are you in love with Finn?" Miller asked. Rose blinked, and stared at the concrete as they walked. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her heart hammered in her mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"The way you look at him. He looks at you the same way," Miller said thoughtfully. "I think Finn is in love with you."

"Really?" she forced herself to reply.

"I wouldn't mind if you married my brother," Miller continued, his expression thoughtful. "I wouldn't mind having you as my real sister, instead of just pretend."

"You like me being your pretend-sister?" Rose smiled softly, looking at Miller. His cheeks flushed a little, not as much as when he was with Aimee, and he smiled only slightly, concealing what he really thought.

"It's alright," he said, and Rose laughed, following him into the McGowans' property.

Ian and Caleb were bubbling with excitement about having been to see their Grandpa, who had bought them presents and taken them to a baseball game and a hot-rods car show and a demolition derby, let them make chocolate milk made with chocolate-syrup, and let them have chocolate milk with their Cookie Crisp cereal.

Rose was wary of what Miller had said about Finn, and was careful of looking at him in any particular way; Caleb requested Rose make her "special zucchini" for dinner, so Regina stepped aside and let Rose have free run of the kitchen to prepare enough of Rose's Carbonara Recipe to feed ten people; she cut up enough zucchinis and enough bacon for ten people and grabbed the tub of cream, the yellow cheddar, parmesan and an egg, and mixed the liquids together with some black-pepper and the cheese, browned the bacon and zucchinis, and cooked enough pasta to feed a militia, drained it and mixed the lot together, by which time the boys were starving and setting the table, pouring drinks, gloating over having been to see Grandpa, who had let them eat corndogs and huge funnel cakes until Ian was sick.

"Thank you for that, Caleb," Rose said, watching Caleb imitating Ian retching. Caleb shot her a grin and scuttled off to his seat, when Rose carried the vat of carbonara pasta to the table; everyone crowded around; Sean set aside his book, Doug stopped being obnoxious long enough to scarf down a huge helping of pasta, Regina and John asked about the party, and nobody mentioned the catfight or the fact that Rose and Finn had had sex.


A.N.: Please review. And VOTE on the name of Evan's future Mrs McGowan! Ella, Evelyn "Evie," Poppy, Tamsin, Cecily or Samantha "Sammy."