Sang Sorenson, the darling of the universe, is the sweetest, nicest person you will ever meet. Her parents are wealthy and kind to all, including their beloved daughter. Sang is sheltered, living in a bubble of kindness and light. What happens when...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I gingerly take Owen's hand and step out of the car. His hand is covered in a soft glove that is surprisingly cold. My feet find the ground and I run a hand behind me, making sure my skirt isn't caught on anything or bunched up.
"You look perfect, Sang," Owen says, whispering in my ear. "Don't fret."
My cheeks burn a bit and I duck my head. It was a long car ride and I am happy to finally be able to stretch my legs. As Owen and I get out, the other boys are getting out of their own cars to join us at the entrance.
"Thank you," I mumble, remembering my manners. "And thank you, Sean."
Sean replies cheerfully, "No problem, Darling. Go ahead."
Sean is parking the car that the three of us drove up in. He wanted to drop me off near the entrance which I think was incredibly sweet. What I don't understand, though, is why the hosts didn't have someone waiting on their guests to park for them. Must not be that type of party, I suppose.
"Would you mind describing the place to me? In as much detail as possible, if you wouldn't mind," I request, trying to take in as much as possible with my other senses.
"Sure," Owen agreed. "The house is huge, almost as big as yourhome, Sang."
"Rose," I correct him, gently squeezing his hand as a reminder.
"Right, sorry," Owen says before continuing. "There are rose bushes everywhere. They are the only plant within sight, other than the large oak to our left."
"How large is the property?" I inquire, trying to create a mental map of the place.
"Decently large. It's all open grass, though. The path we are on is cobblestone and leads all the way up to the door. The door is deep burgundy and large. The windows have exquisite molding and the house has a classic, beautiful look to it," Owen describes.
I have to hide a smile as he calls the window molding "exquisite."
"Thanks," I tell him before deciding. "When we go inside, I'll have Gabriel describe the people to me. He does the best when it comes to clothes and such."
"True, he is," Owen chuckles, agreeing with me easily.
It was one of the things I loved most about these boys. The way they got along. They got mad at each other, they fought with one another, but it was always just that. Just a fight. Never the end of their friendship, never a "that's it" moment. They all loved each other, at least like brothers.
This bond sometimes made me jealous, but it mostly made me feel honored. Honored that they would even consider involving me in this tight-knit group.
But that's not what I need to be focusing on right now.
I am Rose, Rose Pullman. I am nineteen years old and here on invitation. These men are my boyfriends.
