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"How much was the ticket?" I watched as she opened her wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill. I started laughing when she handed it to me.
"Honey, that ticket wastwenty dollars."
"Twenty dollars? But you were barely there for a couple of minutes. I..."
"Welcome to New York," I said, beaming at her. She bit down on her lower lip and reached into her wallet again.
"It's fine. You don't have to pay me back. I think I can cover it."
"Are you sure?” she said, sighing.
"I'm sure."
"Well, I don't want to owe you anything."
"You're going to be living in my apartment rent-free. I think you owe me a lot more than twenty dollars."
"I'm not living rent-free. Foster pays half the rent, and well, he's just covering my part."
"I don't really think it works like that," I said, laughing. "But okay."
"Do you not want me living there, Oliver?" The indignant tone was back in her voice. I licked my lips slowly and turned on the radio without answering her. I could hear her huffing and puffing in the passenger seat next to me. I stifled a laugh because I didn't want her to think that I was enjoying the situation even though I was. It felt really good to be back in her company. It felt like home. I'd watched her growing up. She'd followed Foster and me around for years with her best friend, Alice. And even though she'd been annoying at times, she'd always been a ray of light and brightness in my life. She made me laugh. She irritated me. She elicited all sorts of emotions in me. Though I didn't really need or want her to elicitallof the emotions. Certainly not the ones that made me shift in my seat.
"I can't believe you turned on the radio when I was having a conversation with you."
"I thought you might like to listen to some music." I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel as I pulled out of the airport.
"I don't listen to this music," she said, a slight attitude in her tone.
"What music is this?"
"Exactly," she said. "What is this crap?" She wrinkled her nose as an old man sang about his one-eyed pig.
I started laughing then. To be honest, I didn't even know who was playing.
"You can choose the radio station if you want. I don't mind."
"Do you have Bluetooth? Can I connect my phone and play some tunes?"
"Sure. Just press the buttons, and you can connect."
"Okay." I watched as she leaned forward, pressing her manicured nails against the buttons on my dashboard. She connected her phone and pressed play. And I heard the sound of Pink shouting through the speakers in my car.
"You can turn the volume down a little bit, please," I said, looking over at her. "I don't want to lose my hearing today."
"I didn't realize that the volume on my phone was so high," she said, quickly pressing the buttons on the side of her phone. "That's better."
"Yeah," I said. I halted as we were in traffic and then turned to look at her. "It really is nice having you here, Rosalie. I know you've been upset at me about something, but hopefully, we can work past that. And hopefully, we can become friends again."
"Uh-huh," she said, shaking her head. "Whatever you say, Oliver."
"Whatever I say, huh?" And then it struck me that little Miss Rosalie Sloane was being impertinent and bitchy on purpose. And even though she was Foster's sister, I would not let her get away with it. I had an idea to bring her to her knees. And while playing games with her wasn't the nicest thing for me to do, I knew I wanted to.I'd never called myself a nice guy. I'd put the plan into motion, and hopefully, she would fall for it. Then maybe, just maybe, she'd understand that she was never going to get the best of me. That she was never going to be in control of whatever the situation of our relationship or friendship was. I didn't like the way she was making me feel as we sat here in the car. All of a sudden, the song changed, and Ed Sheeran blared out ofthe speakers.
"I love this song," Rosalie said. She started singing along and shimmying in her seat as she talked about looking at a photograph. "Oh my gosh, he's so romantic. I would absolutely love it if a guy sang this to me," she said, forgetting that she was supposed to be angry and pissed off at me. I smiled warmly at her. So she was still a romantic at heart.
"So have youbeen in love yet, Rosalie?" I asked her softly, cocking my head to the side and observing her face. She looked at me, her eyes flashing something that I didn't quite recognize. Then she shook her head vehemently.
"No, never been in love, but I'm sure I'll meet Mr. Right in New York."
