Page 8 of The Nicest Thing

"I can't believe you invited them and not me," Emmy hissed through the phone.

I shook my head. "I called. You didn't pick up, so I left a message."

"Really, Finn? When Rose is my roommate and best friend?"

"Uh, I'm her best friend."

"Whatever."

My sister was having an overreaction.

As usual.

I loved her, but she could be a drama queen sometimes.

"Emmy, come on. It wasn't—"

"The baseball team," she cut in, and I could practically see her throwing her hands up. "Those jocks who've probably never read a romance novel in their life were there, and I wasn't. That is so messed up."

I frowned, knowing this was the real issue. "Rose didn't even tell us, Em. She wasn't upset."

"I'm upset," she said then quietly added, "at myself more than anything."

After a moment, I heard her sigh.

"Sorry, Finn. I know you tried, but I turned my phone off. I haven't been sleeping well lately, and…I'm devastated I missed her first signing."

I sat back in my chair, waiting.

"So, how did it go?" she finally asked.

"Good," I said. "Really good. I think Rose was happy."

"Yeah, because of you."

"Nah, it was the guys. I have to thank them again."

"Finn."

"What?" I asked.

Emmy chuckled. "You really think she cares about any of them coming?"

My brow furrowed. "You don't?"

"I mean, she was probably glad about it, but you're the one who made her night."

"By selling the books?"

"By being there," Emmy said. "Sometimes that's all we need. Someone to care, show up and just be there."

I grinned. "You're such a sap, Em."

"And you're a romantic."

I shook my head but got the feeling she was doing the same.

"The baseball team, Finn?" she repeated.

"Yeah. So?"

"You've got it bad."

"Don't know what you mean," I said.

"Yeah, you do. But I'll let it go—for now." Before she ended the call, I heard her laugh again. "Seriously, the baseball team?"

Rolling my eyes, I hung up.

I was about to dive back into my paperback, our next book club read, when my roommate crashed into the room.

"Finn," he said, sounding out of breath, "you need to get downstairs. Stat."

"Arnold," I said, "you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but you really should go down."

Closing my book, I stood. "Why? What's happening? Did someone flood the washing machine again?"

"No man. Your girl's down there."

"My girl?"

"The one that looks like a curvy pin-up model."

My eyes narrowed. "You mean, Rose?"

"Yeah, the brunette. The guys are all over her, so I thought you'd want to know."

He thought right.

As I ran out, he called, "You're welcome," and I shouted back a belated, "Thanks."

When I got downstairs, I pulled up short. My eyes locked on her immediately. Rose was standing in the middle of Omega Beta, looking like a dream in a teal top with a deep V and tight fitted jeans. Was I an ass for noticing how they gripped her in all the right places?

Possibly.

Arnold was right though.

She was surrounded. Three of my frat brothers were hanging on her every word. Who knew what they were saying? But watching her laugh at whatever Wyatt Wasserman said made my chest tight. Striding into the room, I stopped in front of her.

"Hey," I said, and she looked at me with those eyes that could make me forget my own name. "What are you doing here?"

"Finn," she said, "hey. I know we weren't supposed to meet until tonight. I hope it's okay that I came early."

"Better than okay."

Pink tinted Rose's cheeks, and I smiled.

"Smooth, O'Brien," Wyatt said, and the grin died on my lips.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" I asked.

"Trying to get your girl to give it up."

"The fuck'd you just say?"

"Whoa"—Parker Graves stepped between us with a laugh—"he didn't mean it like that, O'Brien. Chill."

Wyatt held up his hands.

Reyes nodded then said, "We just wanted some food."

"Food," I repeated.

"Yeah, man, it smells amazing."

I noticed the container in Rose's hands and breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"Ah," I said.

"Seems like your girl's not just a writer," Wyatt said and threw her a wink. "She cooks too."

"I was telling them I only know how to make like three things," Rose said.

"And I said that's three more than me."

The way he smirked at her was pissing me off.

Parker looked to me expectantly. "So can we have some?"

"Of your girl's cooking," Reyes put in.

I shook my head slowly and grabbed Rose's hand. "No, whatever's in there, she made it for me."

"Ah come on," Wyatt said. "Sharing is caring, bro."

Looking from Rose to him, I said, "I don't like to share."

They laughed, throwing colorful commentary my way, as I hustled her up to my room, but whatever.

Arnold was leaving as we walked in. He gave me a salute, and I made a mental note to thank him again.

Inside, I shut the door and took a deep breath.

When I turned, Rose was standing next to my bed, biting back a smile.

"What was that?" she said.

"Nothing," I said.

"You don't like to share?"

"Not when it comes to you." Rose blinked at my deep tone, and I added, "So, you going to tell me what smells so good?"

Shaking her head, she released a quiet laugh.

"It's chicken empanadas," Rose said. "My grandmother's recipe. I know you love Spanish food, and I wanted to say thank you. For last night."

My brow furrowed. "Told you already. That's not necessary. I wanted to come."

"Still."

When I didn't move, she lifted a brow.

"If you don't want them, I'm sure Wyatt would—"

My hand shot out, and in two steps, I had the container in my grasp. I ripped the top off and stuck an empanada in my mouth whole. Rose watched with her jaw hanging as I chewed, but I struggled not to let my eyes roll back.

"That's so good," I groaned after swallowing.

"Thanks," Rose said.

"Seriously, this is the best thing I've ever had in my mouth. The guys aren't getting any of these."

"Finn…"

"What? I'm greedy. I'm not sharing you or your food."

I thought she'd laugh, was sure she would. When the sound didn't come, I moved my eyes back to her and noticed her grimace.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked.

I followed her gaze. "Ah, it's fine. Just a little bruised after catching that ball."

"The one you saved from hitting me."

"I wouldn't say that."

Rose's frown deepened. "Show me."

"I don't—"

"Finn."

Giving up the fight, I held out my hand. Rose gently pried open my fingers then gasped.

"It's nothing," I said.

"There's a blue circle on your palm."

I shrugged.

"Did you do anything for it? Ice? Compression?"

"No, but it'll heal on its own."

"Stay here," she said then got up and walked to the door.

"Rose," I began, but she cut me off with a look.

"Stay right there, Finn O'Brien. I'll be back."

Minutes later, we were sitting on my bed across from each other. Rose gently ran an ice cube over my palm. Her head was bent, intent on her work, while I tried to control my breathing. She smelled so good. She always did. With us close like this, I couldn't help but breathe her in.

"For the smartest person I know," she said, "you can be kinda stupid sometimes."

I grinned at that.

"Why didn't you treat it, Finn?"

"I was waiting for you to do it," I joked, but she only cracked a small smile.

Setting aside the ice, Rose lifted my hand and gently began wrapping it with practiced motions.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Grandma Rose," she said, giving me a real smile this time. "I was accident prone, and my cousins liked getting into fights when they were younger."

"Sounds like Dex," I said.

"Yeah, they'd probably love your brother."

"What about me?"

Rose glanced up into my eyes then back down with a scoff. "They'd hate you on sight."

My scowl was instant. "Why?"

"Because of how close we are," she said and threw me a bright smile. "They'd assume we're together, like couple together. They'd officially think it was their duty to crush you."

"I'm not scared, Rose."

"Hmm, maybe you should be."

I shook my head as she sat back, having finished with my hand. "In case you forgot, I grew up with four older brothers—and Emmy. Honestly, besides Dex, I think she was the most volatile."

Rose grinned. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

"I'd love to meet your cousins someday."

"Not if I can help it," she mumbled, but I was serious.

"So, are we still on for tonight?" I asked.

She nodded. "Our first reel filming session. Sure you're ready for that?"

"Please, I was born ready."

Stretching my hand gingerly, I looked up.

"Thanks, Rose," I said. "Feels better already."

She rolled her eyes, but I think we both noticed at the same time how close we were.

Rose cleared her throat, placed a bag of frozen corn in my hand, and leaned back against my headboard.

"You have to hold that for 15 to 20 minutes," she said.

I lifted a brow.

"I'm going to stay here to make sure you do. Just pretend I'm not here."

Yeah, right, I thought as I stared at her. Seeing Rose reclined against my pillows was not something I could ignore. Not that I wanted to.

Rose glanced back at me, and I quickly looked away.

"What were you doing before I got here?" she asked.

"I was about to read," I said.

"Okay then, I'll turn the pages for you."

I leaned back next to her as Rose scooted closer. The book was nice, but nothing could draw my attention from the girl at my side. God, she felt good.

"Just tell me when, Finn," she said.

I tried to focus for another minute—then her head landed on my shoulder. After a moment, she yawned.

"You tired?" I asked.

"Yeah, a little. It's been a stressful few days."

"Why don't you take a nap?"

"I couldn't…"

"Yeah, you could," I said with a smile. "You rest. I'll read."

She opened her mouth again, but another yawn interrupted whatever she was going to say.

"I promise to keep icing."

As she settled in more, I breathed a sigh of contentment.

"Finn," she said softly.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I'm sorry I'm so sleepy. I really wanted to study your room more. You're always coming to Magnolia House, but I hardly ever get to see your space."

"That's because your room is a hundred times more interesting than mine," I said.

"Not true."

Yes, it was. Rose's room was like her. Unique, colorful, full of life.

She liked collecting postcards for all the places she hoped to go one day.

They covered her wall, a collage of dreams. There were also little pieces of paper scattered here and there, snippets of her writing as well as quotes she loved, even some song lyrics.

I felt like I discovered something new every time I visited.

Plus, her bed, pillows, and everything in the space smelled like her.

My room had all the basics: bed, nightstand, desk light, bookshelf.

I kept a few pictures of my family and the people I cared about.

Rose didn't comment on it; I wasn't even sure if she noticed, but there was one of her on my desk.

If she asked, I'd tell her what I told Arnold.

Rose is my best friend—which was true. But it was really because I wanted to see her when I wake up.

She was quiet a minute, and I thought she might've fallen asleep. But then she spoke.

"Why don't you ever invite me over?"

"Where?"

"To the frat house."

I looked down but only saw the top of her head. "You really have to ask?"

I felt her shrug and laughed quietly.

"Rose, you saw what just happened," I said. "You were here for what, five minutes? My frat brothers were all over you."

"Yeah, right," Rose sighed.

"I'm serious. You're…you have no idea how beautiful you are. Most of those guys are my friends. I don't want to have to fight them—but I would. For you."

I swallowed.

"I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?"

Rose's soft snore was the only response.

My eyes drank her in. I tried not to move so as not to interrupt her sleep. I never did get back to reading the book.