The condescending pitch of his voice disgusts me. It’s too similar to the cocky, matter-of-fact tone I grew up with all my life.
A tear slides down the side of Rosie’s face, and red-hot anger starts to spread everywhere. “What happened?”
Rosie turns to me, and her shoulders fall, relaxing. Those tears don’t disappear, but her breathing steadies while I wrap an arm around her waist.
“Locke! Had no idea you were here!” Jeremiah’s voice shifts to disturbingly cheery. The music in this club hasn’t let off for a second since we’ve gotten here, but I wish it was louder.
“What happened?” I ask again, squeezing the side of Rosie’s waist to remind her I’m here.
She opens her mouth but can’t get a word in.
“I was having a nice conversation with a young woman and Rosie had to make everything about her, as usual.”
“You were harassing that poor girl!” A fire ignites in her eyes, and she sets her drinks down at the bar. “She told you ‘no’ multiple times and you wouldn’t leave her alone! She’d probably still be here terrified if I didn’t get between the two of you!”
“Just because you need men giving you attention at every point of your life-”
“Can you shut the fuck up?”
My heart is racing. Blood pumping at a rate I didn’t know was possible for the human body. When I chose to wear this suit, I assured Rosie I wouldn’t get hot. Crowds don’t make me sweat. I grew up around so many. I was uncomfortable so often, my body had become used to it and adjusted.
But now, I start to perspire. Anger rolls through me before I can try to control it. I don’t think there’s ever been a moment in my life where I let my emotions take total control, and definitely not in public. Not to someone that might have a connection in the industry that worships my father.
I can’t stop myself, though. I set a glare on Jeremiah, with his shitty attitude and jabbing words. It’s my girl he’s attacking, and I can’t stop myself.
“You’re making Rosie—and probably all the women around here—uncomfortable. I suggest you walk away.” It’s not much, but my breath is shaky. I hope he’s too caught on the unnaturally stern tone to notice.
“Princess.” Her warm brown eyes meet mine, and a light calm subdues some of the anger. “What happened?”
She moves closer to me and those tears start to disappear. “I was grabbing our drinks and Jeremiah was talking to a girl. I was going to walk away, but I heard her ask him to leave her alone. I had to say something.”
The last sentence is choked in a whisper, like she’s pained into saying it. I know Rosalie avoids being around him, and other boys from her cohort, as much as possible. She could’ve left. But she’s always the first person to protect and defend someone else—especially from the torment she’s been subjected to.
When I turn my head back to him, and see Jeremiah laugh, my anger rushes back ten times as strong.
His nauseating voice doesn’t help. “You always have some shit to say when it’s someone else. But when I’m teasingyouand messing withyou, suddenly you’re silent. You just hate seeing me give my attention to someone else, huh?”
Her body moves behind mine. There’s a short pause, no more than a handful of seconds, and Rosalie doesn’t say anything.
I’m sure people are eavesdropping now. Yelling in their minds that Rosie should say something, stick up for herself, stand her ground. Even if she’s already stood tall against him, for someone else, there’ll always be a reason why she acted wrongly. Society frames it that way.
I think back to the day she cried across the table from me and poured out her frustrations. No matter what she does, or doesn’t do in this situation, someone will have something to say.
If she stands up for herself, Jeremiah will run off and tell their peers how emotional she got. Probably criticize her for not being able to have a “civil conversation” or “take a joke,” because that’s how he’ll paint it to them.
If she doesn’t say anything, and subjects herself to bullying, people will say it’s her fault for letting it happen. Why didn’t she try harder, or speak louder, or be stronger?
My Rosie is the strongest person I know. Fighting head on for what she wants in life, and not letting anyone stop her, even if it seems like the world is set against her. She proves that to me, herself, and everyone else every day.
I take a step in front of her. If I were acting in the context of being Keller McCarthy’s son, I would walk away. I wouldn’t risk causing a scene that could get back to my dad. Getting into an argument at a bar is one of the worst possible ways to ruin whatever progress I’ve made with my father.
I look over my shoulder at my favorite brown eyes. Rosie blinks up at me, and my mind is made. I’m hers. Wholeheartedly, indisputably.
Turning my head to Jeremiah, I know that, right now, being hers is all that matters.
“You are so disgustingly insecure. It’s pathetic.”
“What did you just say?” Jeremiah fumbles with his drink in shock.
