Page 1 of The Inevitable Us

Chapter one

Rosalie

Age 19- Early Spring

“Youaren’tgoingalone,are you?” my sister Josie asks me from the doorway of our shared bathroom. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she skims up and down my body with a perfectly arched eyebrow and all too seeing eyes. We each have an interior door in our rooms leading to the adjoining bathroom, and Josie’s fond of using hers to walk into my room whenever she feels like it.

I pull down the hem of my white fitted dress and turn to take one last look at myself in the mirror. “No, Andrea’s invited, too.”

She gives me a slow shake of the head. “Just be careful. And remember what the bodyguards taught us about our drinks. Get a bottle if you can. If you get a plastic cup, keep your hand over the top, and if you leave it unattended, don’t drink it.”

I roll my eyes at her third reminder of the night. “I’ve got it! Sheesh. It’s not like this is my first party!” Josie’s home from Yale School of Music and paying way more attention to what I’m up to than I want her to.

Three days ago, she came into town for her biological father’s birthday, which was yesterday. She’s still here, despite having a perfectly nice home in Connecticut.

I look at my sister through the mirror, her gaze meeting mine through the reflection. “Don’t you have finals to study for or something?” I accuse.

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Josie purses her disapproving lips my way. “It’s your first college party. I’m not so stupid that I don’t know it’s the Beta Sigma Mu’s blackout party this weekend. Plus, you’re leaving in a white dress, and you came in from work with glow stick jewelry. Dead giveaway, sis. If you’re going to lie to me, you’ll have to be a little bit more clever.”

I feel my eyes twitch in annoyance. Josie’s like a one-woman KGB. She was wrong about one thing, though— It’s far from my first frat party. I’ve enjoyed quite a few college parties during my “gap year.” I’d begged my parents, promising to work, wanting time off after burning out from high school, and not sure yet what I wanted to do as far as my education. They’d eventually relented, telling me I had one year to decide what I wanted to do. That was nine months ago, and the clock is ticking.

Josie sighs deeply, unfolding her arms from her body. Her long auburn hair flows past her shoulders and down her back after cutting it very short duringa phase,as my parents called it, in high school. Her nails are a soft pink now, and she is wearing a lavender blouse and jeans, having given up her all-black clothing years ago. “Just be careful, okay? I’ll have my phone on me. If you need someone to pick you up, I’ll come and get you.”

“I’ll be fine!” I assure Josie with an eye roll before I finish flat ironing my hair and giving it a large spritz of hairspray.

She turns and starts to shut my bathroom door behind her before it cracks open again. She swivels around and pokes her head back in, raising an all too knowing eyebrow at me. “Put a jean jacket over the dress; it’s cool out tonight. And switch out your heels for booties. You’ll be able to stand longer in them.”

After changing my shoes and putting on the denim jacket, I walk down the hallway and to the kitchen, and out the door into the garage. My parents are visiting my brother Nate at college for the day, sparing me their normal inquisition. They wouldn’t usually go when Josie was in town, but Josie was supposed to leave right after them. Josie had decided to stay another day, of course, mentioning she wanted to meet a friend for lunch.

My heart starts to accelerate when I hear the sound of familiar footsteps and see a large shadow walking down the stairs that lead to the garage apartment. It serves as a security base for our family, and the bodyguards come and go at all hours.

My heart skips a beat and I pause, watching Sawyer’s long legs carry him swiftly down the last of the stairs, his brown dress shoes making a rhythmic thump with each step. At the bottom, he pivots on the ball of his foot and pauses in front of me.

Eyes the color of dark chocolate scan me up and down with careful scrutiny. An impatient finger taps on the side of his leg, and his plush pink lips twitch. He’s so close I can smell the dark roast coffee he drinks on his breath, mixing with the woodsy scent of his soap. He gives me a challenging glower of disapproval. “Where ya headed, Rosalie?”

Jiggling my car keys in my hand, my eyes rove over Sawyer’s broad shoulders, thickly muscled arms and those dexterous hands that now sit accusingly on his hips. I nervously finger the enamel rose keychain he’d once helped me pick out at a roadside truck stop during a family road trip.

Moistening my lips, I move my hair out of my face and roll my shoulders back. My eyes shoot back up to Sawyer. I give him my most seductive look and ignore the tingly sensation I feel when our eyes meet.

His hair is coal-black, slightly longer on top than the other guard’s haircut, and side-swept. I know when he’s frustrated, he runs his hands through his hair, just once, as if the show of annoyance was a weakness. He keeps it neatly trimmed in the back but long enough that I want to feel the shiny softness in my fingers. One day I’ll get to touch his hair to see if it feels as soft as it looks. His face is breathtakingly handsome. On more than a few occasions, I’ve seen girls in the crowds poke one another to point out the good-looking bodyguard with my Dad.

I start to fidget under his gaze and break eye contact, willing the butterflies in my stomach to quiet down. “Out,” I purr with a coy smile.

His eyes narrow, and he clears his throat; he stares at me for a moment with his tongue in his cheek. His hand reaches out, grabbing my purse. “And these?” he inquires with an arrogantly raised eyebrow, holding up the glow sticks bracelets.

My lips quiver for a moment, and I bounce my leg, looking up at the package Sawyer holds pinched between two fingers. “That,” I say pointedly, snatching them out of his hands, “is none of your business.”

He releases the glow sticks, and I stick them back in my purse, and after unlocking my car with the fob, I start to move towards my sedan.

“You need to tell someone where you’re really going, Rosalie. You know the rules,” he commands, pacing over to me on quick feet, stopping the car door from opening.

Ahh, the bodyguard bible. The set of rules for the entire family, regardless of how old we are, that we’re not allowed to break no matter what. Rule 1: Always tell someone where you’re going when you leave the house.

A sense of ire washes over me as my gaze goes up and down Sawyer’s body. “Aren’t you going off shift?” I snap at Sawyer. He cocks his head at me with one taunting eyebrow raised, making it clear he won’t budge until I answer.

This time he allows me to open the car door and I sit in the driver’s seat, but he holds the door open, blocking me from leaving.

“My family knows,” I answer sweetly, opening the garage door with a push of a button in my car. “Please let go of the door, Sawyer. I’m going to be late.”

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