Strangely Normal - By Tess Oliver Page 0,49
over the seat and wrapped my arms around his rock hard stomach. “I’m ready to roll.”
The bike rumbled beneath us as we turned down the tree-lined path and through the security gates. The experience was exactly as I’d dreamed it. It felt like we were flying, and I laughed like a little kid as he picked up speed and raced down the street. We toured the scenic streets around the estate. Grand, stately mansions lined both sides of the road, as we rode through a world so different than mine it was like being on a different planet. And as beautiful and grand as it all was, I still missed my modest little home and nutty parents. Even though I was having a blast and the summer of a lifetime, I felt the constant ache of homesickness.
We pulled onto a pathway that led to a small park. The grass was as green as an Irish landscape and flowers lined the children’s play area. Aside from one older woman in a maid’s uniform who watched attentively as two small girls played on the slide, the place was deserted. We parked the bike and got off.
Jude took my hand. “There’s a cool, little manmade waterfall and pond around the bend.”
“Well, of course there is. I mean every park I’ve ever been to has a waterfall and pond.”
We walked along a neatly paved path. One side of it was bordered by a small stream that looked as if each polished stone had been hand placed to create the perfect flow of water. Large, smooth rocks and a sparkling waterfall sat at the top of small hill. We walked under the shade of a tree with manicured branches that jutted out like a massive umbrella. Jude leaned back against the wide trunk and pulled me into his arms.
“You seemed to know exactly where to lead me— to this wonderfully secluded tree. Almost as if you’ve been here quite often before,” I teased.
“Contrary to what my backstabbing siblings may have told you, I am not an animal.” He reached up and held my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I like you a lot, Eden. And I don’t like many people. I’m not using you.”
“No?” I lifted my face and kissed his jaw. “Because I’m totally using you for that friggin’ Harley back there.”
“Yeah, I already figured that out. But I’m willing to accept it as long as you spend time with me.”
I startled when a squirrel traveled across a branch overhead but was certain my nerves had more to do with the guy standing in front of me than the small woodland creature. I laughed at my silly reaction. “The wildlife in Beverly Hills is fearsome.” I glanced around. “I’m surprised there aren’t more people here.”
“Nannies aren’t done with their chores yet. This place gets crowded later in the afternoon.”
“Nannies? So mommies don’t come, just nannies?”
“For the most part.”
“And that,” I said, “is where this whole idyllic world falls apart.”
He yanked me closer against him. “What do you mean? Are you making a social comment on my people?”
“Your people? You make rich and snobby sound like its own culture.”
“It sort of is.”
“I guess. But what’s the good of coming to a park if you can’t show your mom how good you are at climbing the slide? A nanny isn’t going to give a hoot about your accomplishments.”
“Some mothers don’t either,” he said. “So you think we’re all out of touch?”
“Strangely enough, no. Even though you three have grown up in a magnificent house with every luxury you could wish for and a father who is supremely famous, or as my dad would say, the god of rock, Finley, Cole and you are completely down to earth. You argue just like everyone else and you watch each other’s back. Just like regular siblings. One might even say normal. Even the stuff Finley deals with is pretty common. Everyone gets anxiety. I used to panic right before tests. I used to pressure myself so much, I was certain if I got anything less than a perfect score the whole world would dissolve beneath my feet. Once I pushed myself into a major panic attack before a calculus test and was convinced I was having a stroke. So everyone deals with stress in their own way. Finley just deals badly.” I rubbed my palm along the stubble on his chin. “I guess you know she blames herself for her sister’s death.”
“I know. It never mattered how hard