PART 2: RED ROSES FOR ROMANCE

Four days later, the granite vase contained several white roses and a single red one. I raced to Rose Hill and waited for Tyler at the end of his lane. He trained every morning for the high school track team. I had made certain our running paths never crossed, until today.

I didn't know which was more intoxicating, the scent of the rose bushes lining the road or the sight of Tyler jogging toward me. 

He stopped only an arm's length away. "Are you stalking me?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"Maybe." I shrugged my shoulders. "I needed to talk to you. I thought about going to the pool, but we'd have an audience there."

He awarded my awkwardness with his dazzling smile, and my brain went blank. I stared at the black panther on his orange t-shirt, so I could articulate my next sentence. "I wanted to thank you again for saving my life. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please let me know."

"Okay. . . Can't think of anything right now, but if I do, I'll let you know." His dismissive tone told me I was wasting his time.

"Of course." I swallowed the humiliation threatening to choke me. "Sorry for bothering you."

I gave him a slight nod goodbye and ran away at my maximum speed. I was such a loser. Tyler Price would never be interested in a girl like me.

"Jasmine, wait!" he yelled.

I didn't know it was possible, but I ran even faster. Tyler followed behind, but he couldn't catch up. My disgrace propelled me forward. I wanted Tyler to notice me, but I only made a fool out of myself. Again.

After about four blocks, my energy and my embarrassment faded. I slowed down, and Tyler soon jogged beside me. "Wow! You run fast for a girl."

I glared at him for his sexist remark and kept jogging.

"Could we please stop?" he pleaded. "I think I pulled something."

I stopped, and so did Tyler. He massaged the sore spot on his leg.

"You may be surprised to hear this, but sometimes I make mistakes," Tyler admitted, wincing.

"Really. I hadn't noticed."

"People think I'm a hero because I've saved many girls from drowning, but I'm only human. I'm not perfect." He tilted his head to one side and raked his fingers through his thick, black hair. His midnight-blue eyes expressed his remorse.

"How many girls have you saved?" I inquired with suspicion.

"You and a little, red-headed girl last summer. She was so grateful I saved her life she bought me an ice cream bar. Why don't you take me out for ice cream tonight?" he suggested with a humble smile. "I know the perfect place, Split It in Lewisville. I'll pick you up at your house at seven o'clock. What's your address?"

"I have a better idea. I'll meet you at Split It at seven-thirty." I ran away before Tyler could argue or change his mind. I knew he wouldn't follow me again. When I got to the end of the block, I looked back. He was headed home, limping in pain.

I sprinted to Melaney's house.

On Wednesday night after youth group, I had attempted to talk to her about Dean, but she refused to discuss him with me. "Forgive and forget" was Melaney's motto. She had forgiven him, and she intended to forget they ever dated. She wanted me to do the same. Of course, I said I would try.

I wished they had never told me about their secret liaison. As they had predicted, I was stuck in the middle between my two best friends. Both of them had been hurt, and I felt helpless. I wanted to heal their broken hearts, but I didn't know how.

I climbed the tree next to Melaney's bedroom and knocked on her open window. "Laney, please wake up. I need your help."

She slowly got out of bed, trudged to the window, and opened the screen.

"What's wrong? What happened now?" she asked as I sat on the sill.

"I need you to take me to Dean's house today."

"Why? Do you feel like being thrown down a flight of steps?" she taunted. Her nasty question clashed with her pink and white polka-dot pajamas and bed-head hair.

"No. I just need to talk to him in person."

"Go away," she grumbled. "I'm going back to bed."

"Tyler Price asked me out on a date this morning, and I need some advice from Dean," I divulged with a humungous grin on my face.

"Wait a minute. Did you just say Tyler asked you out on a date this morning?" She looked at the alarm clock. "It's only seven."

"I sort of ran into him when I was jogging."

"Of course," she sighed.

"So are you going to take me to Dean's or not?"

"Be ready at one," she ordered. "I'm supposed to take Megan to the mall for school clothes."

"Thanks, Melaney. You're the best."

"Yes, I am. Now go away before my parents catch you in here." She crawled back into bed and threw the covers over her head.

I climbed down the tree and ran home.

* * *

Melaney parked her car in Dean's driveway beside his motorcycle at five of two. I had tried to warn Dean that I was coming, but his cell phone went straight to voice mail.

"Thanks for the ride. I'll meet you in front of Fables in two hours." I opened the car door and jumped out. I left my duffel bag in the car for our monthly Friday night sleepover.

"Okay. Be careful," she cautioned. "Stay away from any open windows or stairs."

"I will," I promised, closing the door.

"Have fun!" Megan added.

I skipped up the steps to the porch and knocked on Dean's front door. No answer. He was probably still in bed. I got the spare key out from under the broken post and let myself in.

I went upstairs to Dean's bedroom. He was sleeping on top of his sheets, still in his regular clothes, black t-shirt and blue jeans. At least, his boots were off. He must have had a rough night.

"Wake up, sleepy head," I encouraged. "It's two o'clock in the afternoon."

Dean opened his eyes halfway and glared at me.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked.

"I need some advice."

"You should have called first," he complained, yawning and stretching his arms.

"I tried to call you, but your phone's turned off." His cell phone was on his dresser, next to an empty wine bottle. Dean knew I vehemently disapproved of underage alcohol use. He just didn't know why. "Have you been drinking?" I accussed. 

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture, Jasmine. What do you want?" His eyes were bloodshot, probably from lack of sleep and lots of alcohol.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "Well, I talked to Tyler after I saw your rose, and he asked me out on a date."

"I know." Dean sat up next to me. "Tyler broke up with Mimi late last night, and then he texted Todd about his date tonight, with you."

"That's why I'm here. This morning was extremely awkward. What do you think I did wrong?"

"You made the first move. Most guys are hunters. They want to do the chasing," he theorized.

I smiled. Technically, Tyler was chasing after me this morning. "I couldn't wait any longer for him to make a move. School starts in three days. Anyway, now that I have a date with him, what can I do to keep him interested in me?"

Dean glanced down at the bed and then back up at me.

"No way! I'm not easy like Mimi." I twisted the silver purity ring on my left hand. "I'm not having sex with anyone until I have a real wedding ring on my finger."

"Good," he said, obviously relieved. "Stick to your principles, but realize most guys don't want a serious relationship. They like girls that are fun and unpredictable, so keep Tyler guessing about how you feel. Never tell him that you love him. That will scare him away."

"Be fun and unpredictable," I repeated. I thought about what Dean said for a while, and then I had a great idea. "Okay. Let me borrow your motorcycle."

"Absolutely not! It's too dangerous."

"Says the guy who pushed me down a four-story water slide," I reminded him.

"Hey. That's not fair!" Dean protested. "I knew Tyler would save you. If you crash my motorcycle at 55 miles-per-hour, you'll be splattered all over the highway. No one will be able to save you."

"We rode dirt bikes at the beach, and I never got hurt." Scratches and bruises didn't count.

"It's not the same thing, and you know it. Besides you don't have any gear."

"I'll borrow your Mom's. We're about the same size," I stated. His mother traveled to some exotic island in the Caribbean for business every August and wouldn't be home until early September.

I crossed the hall to Diane's bedroom and located her light leather jacket and pants in the back of the closet. I put them on over my t-shirt and shorts. They were pale pink and a bit tight, but they fit.

I returned to Dean's room, but he wasn't there. I found him downstairs in the kitchen standing beside the sink getting a glass of water. He scowled at me. I glared back. He popped two ibuprofens into his mouth and took a drink. He placed the glass on the counter.

"Forget it, Jasmine," he growled. "I'm not going to let you take my motorcycle."

I was fearless in my biker chick outfit. I stood on my toes, got right in his face, and poked his chest with my pointer finger. "Listen, little brother-."

"Stop calling me that, Jasmine. I'm not your little brother anymore." He circled my waist with his hands, bent down, and kissed me on the lips. His lips crushed mine, slowly stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I pushed on his chest with all my might, and he released me from his grip.

I stared at Dean, wondering what demon had possessed him to kiss me. I rubbed the back of my hand across my lips to stop the tingling and waited for horns to sprout out of his head.

"Sorry," Dean apologized as he took a step back. "I guess I drank too much last night." His contrite words contrasted with his satisfied smirk.

How dare he treat me like one of his conquests!

"So does that move usually work for you?" I asked in a gravelly voice veering between rage and despair.

"Yes. Most girls stop arguing with me and do what I want," he boasted.

"I'm not one of your groupies, Dean." My eyes welled up with tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because you're a thief! That was my first kiss." I wanted Tyler to be the first boy to kiss me.

"I'm not going to apologize again."

Someone needed to wipe that arrogant expression off his face.

"Just give me the keys to your motorcycle," I demanded, stretching my right hand out, palm up.

He reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulled out his keys, and dropped them in my hand. "Please be careful."

"Don't worry. I'll bring your motorcycle back in one piece," I vowed, walking toward the door.

"You better bring yourself and my motorcycle back in one piece by eight-thirty," he ordered. "I have an appointment at nine."

I opened the door and walked out without answering him or closing the door. I leaped off the porch over the steps and strode to Dean's motorcycle. I grabbed the helmet from the seat and pulled it onto my head.

I straddled the seat, turned the keys in the ignition, and listened to the engine roar. I kicked the stand up and rode off in a fury.

What happened the first time you talked to your crush? Let me know in the comments. 

Forever Remember to Live, Laugh, and LOVE! - 3L