Taking The Reins (The Rosewoods Book 1) (3 page)

“The service elevator is just up there on the right,” Evan said from behind me as I stepped into the marbled lobby, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

I turned to look at the boys and shook my head. “You’re going to use the lift? Really? So much for impressing me.”

“Screw that,” Evan said, smirking. “I’ll impress you with my appreciation for modern technologies.” He jerked the thumb of his free hand toward Will. “If Mr. Dark Ages wants to impress you, he can haul your trunk up the two flights of stairs on his own. And,” he gave Will a wide-eyed look. “May I remind you those two flights each have landings—fourteen foot ceilings, and all.”

Amused, I glanced at Will.

“Dude,” he said shaking his head. “I don’t want to make you look bad when I put this thing over my head and carry it up the stairs like Atlas. I wouldn’t do that to you; we can use the elevator.”

Then he looked at me and winked.

Rendering me speechless.

A
s it was move-in day for everyone on campus, we had to wait our turn for the elevator, which meant more time with Evan and Will, which I was definitely okay with. The way the guys joked with each other, it was obvious they were friends, which made it even more fun to hang around with them. And it sort of took the pressure off me to carry a conversation. A good thing, since being with them was a bit overwhelming.

They did ask about me some, though, surprised to find out I’m American.

“But that accent,” Will said. “It’s so...”

“Dodgy?” I finished for him.

“Charming,” Evan said at the same time.

Will shook his head and stared into my eyes. “Sexy,” he said. I had to look away, unable to handle the intensity in his gaze. If he was flirting with me like Evan had said, I loved it, but it was a little overwhelming at the same time. I’d never been drunk, but maybe this is what it felt like; like my insides were vibrating and I wanted to jump up and down. In private, of course.

Still, I was beginning to really understand what made girls get stupid over attention from guys. Will was definitely making me feel like I could get stupid over him.

Luckily, the elevator arrived at that moment, the ding interrupting the tension between us. The guys picked up the trunk and shuffled into the elevator car, putting it down, so they could turn around. I entered last with my backpack and carry-on spinner, turning around quickly to face the door so I wouldn’t have to look at Will, but as the halves met together, I realized it was mirrored. Will caught my eye and smiled. I looked down at my hand resting on the handle of my luggage, silently willing my heart to stop thudding in my chest, because I was almost sure he and Evan could hear it.

Next thing I knew, there was a soft rustle of clothing and Will was pressing his hand on my shoulder, his scent—part cologne, part laundry, part
boy
—wafting over me until I had no choice but to breathe in deeper, my nostrils flaring. My head turned toward him and I almost fell into a daze, sure he was going to pull me into his arms. Waiting, hoping.

That’s when I realized what he was
actually
doing; I’d forgotten to push the button for the third floor and he’d leaned over me to do it.

How utterly humiliating.

“Sorry,” he said as the elevator jerked into motion. “I didn’t think you’d want to be stuck in here all day.”

“Of course not,” I said, my voice cracking as I shook my head and spit out an excuse. “I was worrying about my schedule. Sorry to be daft.”

Finally, after what felt like the longest ride in the history of lifts, we were let out on the third floor.  Evan told me to turn left and I preceded them to the very last room on the right. I knocked, but then remembered my key card and slid it into the reader, the light turning green and unlocking the door with a soft ‘shunk’.

With a held breath I pushed open the door, super excited and nervous to meet my new roommate, the famous-adjacent, Celia Thomas. But the room was empty. Of people, at least. It seemed to be a lot more filled and decorated than it should have been for one person.
Apparently almost-famous girls have a lot of stuff and like to spread out
, I thought.

“So, where do you want this?” Evan asked, grunting as they pivoted to get through the doorway with the trunk.

I moved deeper into the room, put my bags on the unmade mattress and stood to the side so they could get past me. There wasn’t a lot of room for the three of us to maneuver, but I pointed to the one spot on the floor that was big enough to accommodate the trunk and watched as they lowered it into place.

“Very impressive,” I said. “Even though you used the lift.”

Evan gave me an amused look while Will rolled his shoulders.

“Thank you both. Really. I do appreciate your help.”

“Anytime,” Will said, winking at me again and then opening his mouth as though to say something, but was suddenly interrupted by a girl coming into the room, pushing past him to stand in front of me.

She was stunning, with her
cafe-au-lait
complexion and the kind of curly brown with multi-colored highlights hair that people paid a lot of money for in salons. I had a millisecond to wonder if her striking blue eyes were that color thanks to contacts, before I realized they were trained on me. And not in a good way.

“Uh, hello?” the girl said, her face mashed up into a frown that made me want to hide in the tiny closet. Everyone hears about mean-girl celebutante-zillas, but you hope your roommate at a super-exclusive boarding school isn’t going to be one.

So much for that. Without a word, Evan disappeared and Will gave me a wave before he ducked out too, leaving me alone with the girl who I supposed was Celia. Cowards. Not that I could blame them...

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to smile and stuck out my hand. “Hi, I’m Brooklyn, your new roommate. You can call me Brook, though.” Almost no one called me Brook, but in that second, I was desperate for her to like me and the nickname fell out of my mouth.

“
You’re
not my roommate,” the girl said, glancing at my outstretched hand and ignoring it. “Kaylee is my roommate.”

I just blinked at her. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, though I begged them not to fall—nothing could be worse than bawling in front of my (maybe) new roommate on my first day here.

She exhaled and rolled her eyes. “Stupid registrar’s office. Kaylee enrolled late because her parents were on location in Africa, but Kaylee and I are
always
roommates. It’s nothing personal.”

“Oh,” I said, still willing myself not to cry. Celia didn’t seem mad at me, but it kind of hurt to be rejected anyway.

“It’s okay. It’s just a mix-up,” Celia said, slipping an arm across my shoulder and giving me a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get it worked out. Didn’t you notice all her things were already here?”

I looked around the room with new eyes.
Duh, Brooklyn.
“I guess. I sort of thought maybe you just had a lot of stuff.”

She laughed. “I do have a lot of stuff, but not this much.” She swiveled me toward the door. “Leave your stuff here and let’s go back down and get this sorted out. I’m sorry that you got all the way up here with all your things, but we’ll figure this out.”

I looked at her beside me and smiled; she was being very
un
celebutante-zilla-like. “Thanks. Really.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it. You’re one of us now. Rosewoods look after each other.”

F
orty-five minutes later, my key card had been reprogrammed and a couple of different guys had followed me up to Celia’s room to move my trunk the four rooms away to my new (confirmed!) home for my stay at Rosewood. My new roommate, Emmeline Somerville, hadn’t arrived yet, so after much agonizing over the decision, I made the choice of taking the slightly less desirable bed on the left (the shared closet was on my side, so she’d have a bit more room for her stuff).

Now that I was settling into my room, I was on my own until dinner. Celia had said I could come back and hang out with her and Kaylee, but although the new Brooklyn really wanted to, the old Brooklyn thought it was a good idea to unpack and not force herself on the other girls.

And anyway, the dorm rooms weren’t big enough to store trunks in, so I needed to get everything out of mine. The orientation package said any large luggage could be tagged and put out in the hall to be taken to storage.  I didn’t want it to be in Emmeline’s way when she did finally show up, so getting the trunk unpacked was a priority.

I didn’t know anything about Emmeline, other than her name and that she was flying in from Paris, or maybe Venice (there had been some debate about that at the check in booth) and may not arrive until very late. I’d been dying to ask Chelly and Celia about her, but it seemed kind of catty.

Since she was entering her third year at Rosewood, Emmeline wasn’t required at orientation, but I got the feeling all the other girls were expected to have still arrived by dinnertime, although Emmeline, or perhaps her family, were held to a different standard.

Which was pretty intimidating. I was nervous enough, but with each passing moment as I unpacked and organized all my things, my anxiety over my new roommate ratcheted up. Sure, all the girls had been really nice so far, but meeting your new roommate is a big deal and I didn’t want to screw it up.

At 5:45 she still hadn’t arrived, but dinner was at six, so I quickly finished up and tugged my trunk out into the hall. With map in hand, I headed to the main stairs to go down to the dining room, which was on the main floor. But I wasn’t alone—the hallway was filled with girls, and I was suddenly swarmed, since I was the new girl. It seemed the third floor was all juniors, so everyone knew each other from prior years and all wanted to meet me. I introduced myself and tried to remember the names and faces of all the girls around me. There were one-hundred girls in each grade at Rosewood, so it was going to take some time before I’d know them all.

It got a bit overwhelming, but suddenly I heard my name from behind me.

I turned and there was Celia, walking toward me and the throng of other students. “Girls! Leave Brooklyn alone—she just got here. You’ll all get to meet her; you have all year!”

She gave me a broad smile and hooked her arm through mine. “Kaylee’s finishing getting dressed, but I wanted to make sure you were settled in and found your way to the dining room.”

I held up the paper I’d gotten from the check in desk. “I have my map.”

Celia started walking down the hall, gently tugging me along next to her as other girls fell in line around us. “You don’t need a map; you have us. So, tell us more about you.”

A
s we ate dessert, a very young-looking teacher at the front of the room (the entire faculty sat together at two long tables) got up and walked over to a raised podium. He looked very focused on the floor in front of him and I wondered if he was nervous. A buzz of whispers and hushed conversations erupted through the dining hall.

I turned to Celia. “What’s going on?”

She looked up to the front of the room. “Evening announcements. Newbie teacher.” She squinted. “Newbie
cute
teacher.” She nudged Kaylee on her other side, who also looked up from her fruit salad.

“Nice,” she said. “I wonder what he’s teaching.”

“I bet he could teach me a few things,” Chelly said from across the table.

We all laughed and watched as the new teacher adjusted the microphone and started talking. No sound came out and someone hollered at him to turn it on. He stared blankly out at the crowd and then clued in, switching the mic on. He cleared his throat and started again. It was kind of adorable.

“Good evening. My name is Jeffrey Stratton...er...Mr. Stratton. As the newest addition to the faculty, I have been given the honor of welcoming you all here to The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence. Most of you are returning students and I welcome you all back, but I’d also like to extend a special welcome to our first year students. Welcome!”

“How many times can one person say, ‘welcome’?” Kaylee mumbled.

“We could make it a drinking game,” Celia said.

Kaylee snickered and I looked around, wondering if these girls really did drink. Sure, I’d had some pints back in London, but I was hoping to get into a good journalism program at Syracuse or Northwestern, and that meant good grades. I was taking the Academic Excellence part of The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence very seriously. Which meant although I wanted to have a good time, I was going to have to limit the partying.

“I wonder if he’s married,” Chelly mused, looking up at the podium with dreamy eyes.

“He’s a
teacher
,” Celia reminded her.

Chelly gave Celia a look. “He looks like a
student
teacher, so what, like, twenty max. That’s only three years. Nothing. My father is twelve years older than my mother.” She turned back to look at the teacher in question again. “And anyway, just look at him.”

We all did. And I had to admit, even if just to myself, that he
was
hot. Even from our table, I could tell by the angles of his masculine face, and his dark-rimmed glasses that gave him something of a geeky chic look.  He had broad shoulders under his blazer and slim hips in his chinos. And his voice, low and soothing despite his nervousness (which just made him cuter), made me hope I would be in one of his classes; I could listen to that voice all day.

“...in the library at eight. Students new to Rosewood are asked to meet here at the podium at the conclusion of these announcements for orientation and grounds tour.”

Oops! I realized I’d zoned out and hadn’t really been listening to what he’d said, but at least I’d caught that last part. Chelly nodded at me. “That’s us.”

Cute teacher wrapped up his speech: “So that’s it for me, everyone. I hope to see you out in the science labs when classes start tomorrow. Until then, thanks for your attention and again, welcome!”