Cousins: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance(18)

"Wait–she came with a member."

"You know the member's name?"

Damn ... what did she call the skinny chick that night?

"No."

"Then you're shit out of luck homie."

Oh for fuck's sake.





Chapter Eight

Elizabeth





I STAND NERVOUSLY WITH an awestruck look on my face in front of a massive, pristine, red brick townhouse, while firmly gripping the extended handles of my two oversized candy-red rolling suitcases. The broad limestone steps and perfectly painted black shutters frame each window and add an additional element of rich original detail to the house. There are two wooden window boxes located on each side of an elegant mahogany front door and each holds an assortment of live begonias–which add a pop of pink color and give the effect of a place that's more lived in instead of one that is simply camera ready. The house has obviously been expensively restored, but it still feels like it's brimming with rich history.

Before I can even place my hand on the brass knocker to announce my arrival, the door jerks open, and there stands a slightly out-of-breath aged version of myself. It's absolutely eerie to see a reflection of yourself in another human being whom you've only briefly talked to on the phone over the holidays. I haven't seen her since I was very young, so in a way, it's like we've never met. I know that I'm suppose to feel some sort of strong connection to her because she's my dad's sister, but the only feeling I can muster up at the moment is reluctant gratitude.

"You're here." She breathlessly declares with one hand on her hip and the other leaning on the doorframe.

"I'm here." I respond with a small smile on my face.

"Please come in Elizabeth. Welcome home."

My Aunt Juliette is short and curvy with pear shaped hips just like me. Her skin is flawless and flushed, and her dark hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She is dressed in a pair of black cropped yoga pants and a multi-colored athletic bra. Based on her sweaty appearance she has obviously been working out, which I find an interesting activity for her to be doing, considering that she knew I would be arriving at this time. I don't know if I should be offended or impressed at her dedication.

I'm originally from Penn-Washington, Pennsylvania. A small suburb outside Philadelphia with tree-lined streets, low taxes, and blue ribbon schools. I've lived in Philly ever since I moved here to attend the University of Pennsylvania as a freshman, but have never visited my aunt the entire time I've lived here. We don't really know each other, except for the occasional Christmas card or phone call, and this temporary arrangement for me to stay with her has been several phone conversations and countless emails in the making between her and my mother. Not my ideal solution, but I was quickly running out of options. Sloan's place just isn't big enough for the two of us, plus I didn't want to impose myself on her any longer.

I remember flashes of my one and only visit to Aunt Juliette's when I was very young. Now looking back, I realize that she must have been quite young herself at the time, and that she had just married a man who barely said three words to any of us while we were there. I didn't understand the dynamics at the time, but for some reason my father was agitated about the visit or maybe about us specifically staying in their home, and I remember him insisting that we sleep on the sofa bed in the living room instead of the guest room that she had all decked out for us. I teared up when I heard my parents arguing about it in the kitchen, but distinctly remember that my father won that battle; so the living room is where we slept.

I remember being excited that I was going to be sleeping between my parents in the living room of such a big beautiful house. First of all I'd never slept in anyone's living room before, and secondly I was thrilled that we were in the “big city” having never left Penn-Washington before. But most importantly I was grateful that I wouldn't have to sleep anywhere near the boy with the mean eyes who also lived there. Roman.

When we were first introduced, the dark-haired boy seemed to be as quiet as my new uncle, except for the fact that he stuck his tongue out at me while no one was looking. When I told my mother what he did, she laughed and said that all boys were like that. The next day she forced me to play with him in the backyard while the adults caught up over coffee.

He was a couple of years older than me, so naturally he assumed the role of babysitter, when he was hardly qualified to watch any living thing as far as I was concerned. I was no baby and he certainly was not the boss of me. What I was though was sheltered, and I never saw his treachery coming.

My aunt's house didn't have a huge backyard like we did back home, but there was a small patio area in the back with various potted flowers, and a large rectangular patch of grass with a small garden area. Roman explained that Aunt Juliette was planting a small garden of tomatoes, squash, and sunflowers and that he knew a secret to help me grow as well.