Maroon / Chapter One / Elias
I can’t wait to get out of this hell hole that is Los Angeles. The sunshine and the passive aggressive exchanges. The pollution and the fact that it takes an hour to get anywhere. I hate it. The only redeeming factor are the constant supply of bleach blonds with fake tits and tanned surfer boys rotating in and out of my bedroom each weekend.
In a month’s time, I’ll be moving into my moody and pretentious apartment outside Harvard’s campus. It’s red brick accent walls and industrial floor to ceiling windows speak deeply to my soul. I was born to live on the east coast, crimson red running through my veins. It might sound pompous of me saying I’ve always known I was gifted but why lie to myself when I know the truth. I am and was smarter than every kid in my class. I finished tests first and always scored high. Teachers in high school always omitted my scores when they graded on a curve because often, I’d ace the exams. I never had any competition. That was until Scarlett Hughes moved to Calabasas and gave me a run for my money. She has everything going for her. She’s incredibly smart, wildly attractive and can’t keep her sharp tongue in her mouth.
She had me for a moment, thinking I was in jeopardy of losing my valedictorian status. However, as I approach the podium about to give a speech to my fellow graduating classmates, I’m thinking, of course I’m top of class. I’m the most intelligent person here. Not only that, but everyone loves me. They’ve voted me class president four years running now, I led our debate team to championship and slept with half the cheerleading team. I’m a local hero.
I regard my peers, patting my dark brown hair in to shape even though I know it looks perfect by the way the girls in the front row are melting over my presence. I crack a smile, cascading the crowd with the delight of my dimples. I scan the crowd letting them soak me in before I speak. Scarlett is directly in front of me, scowling as usual. She’s endlessly bitter that I am valedictorian and am going to Harvard. She tragically is going to her back up school, Columbia University. My gaze floats around the crowd until it lands on the person I’ve been looking for, the eyes I always try to find in a crowd, Madison Bennett-Quinn, my best friend.
Although Madison’s GPA isn’t nearly as close to mine, what he lacks in book smarts he makes up in creating exhilarating art and dramatics. I respect his ability to see the world in a different lens. He is the right brain to my left which creates the perfect dynamic between friends. It also doesn’t hurt that he is devilishly handsome. His caramel-colored waves parted to the side and tucked behind his ears. He is looking up at me with those dreamy hazel eyes. I want to slip into that gown of his and get lost against his golden skin. I swallow and pull my gaze away from him, clearing my throat and give a speech to my classmates they will remember forever.
“I know what you are all thinking, ‘Oh great, this guy again.’” I deliver the first line seamlessly, the crowd chuckles and relaxes a bit.
“We all know it’s no surprise I, Elias Rossi, am up here today, speaking to you, bidding you all farewell on our last four years together. However, that doesn’t make these brief words any less significant.
“We will hold all the moments from our experience close to our hearts. I personally will remember fondly the first exam I aced, Mr. Farley’s Conceptual Physics class freshman year. Or the first day of sophomore year when I decided to join the debate team. Believe it or not, I was incredibly nervous. For some reason, I convinced myself that I was less than, that I wouldn’t do well on the team.
“I remember our prom night, us dancing to tacky pop music, grinding and gyrating against each other, with no cares who they are.” I give both, Nick, the quarterback and Jenny, head of the track team a wink that makes the crowd snicker. Nick’s cheeks flame bright pink and Jenny knocks her head back laughing.
I wait until the crowd quiets down before continuing.
“I’ll also remember the day my dad passed last year. It was the lowest time in my life. I felt like all I did in life was pointless. I no longer had a father figure to aspire to. Who would I show my awards and achievements to, of course my mother was always impressed but there’s something special between a bond with your father. It’s indescribable to face the reality, that I lost that bond.
“I know I just killed the mood,” the crowd smiles and shifts in their seats, “but I wanted to shine light that despite the highs and lows, the rose and the thorns of the past four years, it doesn’t dismiss the great feat it is to graduate high school. To walk cross this podium and be awarded our diplomas. Be proud of all your achievements big and small. Be proud of your losses as much as your wins. Because at the end of the day, each moment, is what shapes us to the people who we are now.
“I’m proud of all you. Not as proud of I am about myself,” I flash another charismatic smile, “Nonetheless, be proud of yourself. Of whom you are and who you’ll become.
“Congratulations Class of 2015, go on and exceed your greatest expectations.”
The crowd stands and claps. I direct everyone in moving their tassel opposite of their caps. I run down the aisle and make way over to Madison while Principal Smith congratulates us again. I hear a cannon of fireworks burst and the crowd erupts in cheers. I’m pushing my way to Madison and finally reach him.
“You just had to blow everyone away with your words yet again didn’t you, Eli?” Madison says as he leans into my ear, a trail of shivers snaking down my back.
I laugh and pull him into a hug, “Only your opinion matters to me anyway.” I lean back and catch Madison looking at me with a soft expression. He reaches up and grabs my cap, tossing it up into the air. I grab his and do the same.
We push out of the crowd and find my mom and his parents at the edge of the crowd waiting for us. His mom has her incredibly expensive DSLR camera ready to take photos of us. My mom tells us to stop and pose. So, we do. I swing my arm across Madison’s broad shoulders, letting my hand rest on his bicep. Willing my lust to contain itself when I have my best friend in my arms.
“Hey, you have some confetti in in your hair,” Madison says, and I turn to him. He reaches up brushing it out of my hair. He lowers his hand, but we don’t tear our eyes away yet. I smile down at him, drinking in those long eyelashes and sharp jaw line. If my parents weren’t here and if I were utterly inebriated, I’d trace that jawline of his with my tongue. I swallow the thoughts away and turn to our parents, smiling again as his mom takes too many photos of us.
~
“When are you coming to my party?” Madison asks sitting next to me in my BMW as we eat burgers outside our favorite drive-in. It’s our tradition ever since we were in middle school, although back then we would be sitting in his chauffer's car since neither of us could drive.
This bacon and caramelized onion burger tastes even sweeter knowing it’s the last time I’m eating it. After today, we won’t hold up this tradition. Both Madison and I are fleeing the west coast for New England.
Madison is studying at NYU while interning at his mom’s film company. Olivia Bennett-Quinn is one of the most notable documentarians of our lifetime. She’s exposed the harshest prisons in South America, interviewed tribes in Africa and even did a series working in the highest stress hospitals in the country. That’s how she met Madison’s dad, Tatum Quinn. If you have the tumor the size of a baseball in your brain, Dr. Quinn is the neurosurgeon for you. Madison once told me his father’s patient waiting list is longer than a person’s lifetime. Two powerhouse couples, made gentle, artistic and witty Madison. Every year since nineth grade, he's hosted an end of school blow out at his house.
House is a modest way to describe the expansive mansion tucked into the Hidden Hills neighborhood of Calabasas. World-famous celebrities reside in the exclusive neighborhood. Each year, the Bennett-Quinns hire a private security squad to escort guests from the gated entrance to the mansion as to not disturb their famed neighbors.
“I was thinking probably around 9pm. My mom wants to have dinner at The Oaks as a celebration between the two of us.” I say scarfing down a few French fries.
“Didn’t your dad love that place?” he asks, taking a bite of his barbeque burger. Sauce oozes from the side and starts to slowly glide down the corner of his mouth. My fingers tingle as I restrain from wiping it away, wanting to feel his skin against my touch. Madison darts his tongue out and licks the sauce away, gaze flicking up to mine and I turn away.
I look off down the road pretending I saw something of interest and reply, “Yeah, we would go all the time for birthdays and every random achievement I had. My mom and I don’t go as often but I agreed this time, for old times’ sake I suppose.”
“Are you taking anyone to the party?” Madison asks taking another large bite of his burger.
“Yeah, I told Amanda and Margot, I’d pick them up beforehand.”
“Amanda and Margot? Aren’t they both lead cheerleaders and hate each other’s guts.”
I chuckle and lean back in my seat, fantasizing about getting tangled in the sheets of one of Madison’s guest bedrooms with two women who despise one another and yet both want me. I turn my head over to Madison who is watching me closely.
“What can I say? I’m irresistible.” I give him a wink and he responds by tossing the rest of his fries at my face.
The above is an excerpt from a rough draft of an upcoming release by Anjelica Rose called Maroon. Note that any content my change once published.
Copyright © 2023 by Anjelica Rose
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from its publisher, Paper Thorn Press.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Paper Thorn Press and/or Anjelica Rose is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.