Her eyes light up. “I forgot about that.” With a resigned sigh, she asks, “You think they’d hire me?”
“I don’t see why not. I can grab you an application, or just drop by. It’s Zero-2-Sixty Auto Shop.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the help.”
I jerk my head in a nod. “You might want to get changed.”
Her eyes narrow on mine. “Why?”
“Bonfire tonight. There’s always a party out in a field near the old football field to celebrate the start of the year.”
“There’s an old football field, implying there’s a new one?”
I laugh. “Yeah, they put a brand new arena in about fifteen years ago, so the old field is just sort of there.”
She takes a couple of sips of root beer, a frown marring her lips. “What if I don’t want to go? I’m not that great at socializing.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe that. But you should come. It’ll be fun.”
She toys her bottom lip with her teeth. “Fine,” she agrees. “Let me shower first.”
“Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of time.”
8
Zoey
“You’re riding with me,” Cole says, walking over to his pickup.
“I can drive myself.”
He levels me with a look. “No reason we can’t go together, Roomie.”
I don’t feel like arguing with him, so I agree. I cross over to his truck, the door creaking and screaming when I open it and then close it behind me. His truck smells of cinnamon and I find the reason for it when he reaches down and grabs a pack of Trident cinnamon gum, popping a piece into his mouth.
“You like gum,” I remark, noting all the empty packs littering the floor.
He laughs, cranking the engine. “Yeah, I chew it mostly when I’m nervous. It distracts me.”
“Are you nervous now?”
“Nah, just want some gum.” He grins over at me, his teeth blindingly white in the darkness as he pulls out of the apartment complex. “You look nice.”
I look at my ripped jean shorts and my white ratty high-top Converse. I put on a white crop top and my favorite gold necklace. It was my mother’s, and she gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. The flower charm with her birthstone in the center is one of my most cherished possessions. Ironically enough it was my dad who gave it to her on their one-year-dating-anniversary.
“I’m not dressed up.”
He shrugs, checking both ways before making a left turn at the stop sign. “Doesn’t mean you can’t look nice. Surely you know you’re beautiful, Zoey.”
My treacherous stomach dances with the flutters of a million butterflies. “You’re not allowed to say that.”
“Why not? I’m not hitting on you, just stating fact.”
A flush steals over my body, a fire building inside me. I need to douse it before it gets out of control. “Do you mind if I put the window down?”
“Nope.” He turns the radio up, That’s My Kind of Night by Luke Bryan playing. I roll the window down with the hand crank and lean out, letting my arms loose in the window. “What the fuck? Get back in here.”
He grabs onto the back of my shirt with one hand, trying to yank me backwards. He manages it easily since he’s a hell of a lot bigger and stronger than me.
I shove his hand off me. “Stop, I’m fine. I want to feel the air.”
“You’re crazy,” he grumbles.
“Ten seconds, that’s all I ask.”
He mutters reluctant agreement but holds onto my belt loop when I lean out this time.
I count down my seconds and settle back into the seat, leaving the window down. My curly hair swirls around my shoulders and I revel in the sting of the air on my cheeks.
After my mom died, I had my best friend drive me around while I leaned out the car window just like I did tonight. It was a reminder that was I alive, that I could still feel the air on my face and let it fill my lungs, while my mom couldn’t—it was my way of telling myself I had to keep going.
Little did I know a few short years later I’d be losing that friend too, but for very different reasons. It doesn’t make the loss any easier to bear.
“What are you thinking about?” Cole gives me a speculative glance.
I inhale that stinging crisp nightly air into my lungs. “Friendships,” I reply.
How they form. How they grow. How they fall apart.
I can tell he wants to ask more, but he doesn’t. He turns onto a backroad near the university, and soon we’re bumping over the land. Lanterns hang from some of the trees, lighting the way. Eventually we come to an open area where lots of cars are parked, and he pulls off at the first empty spot.
“Nobody better block me in again like last year.” I’m rolling up the window when he clears his throat. “Look, if you decide to go back home with someone tonight … let me know. I…” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “I worry,” he finishes with.
I stare at him with an arched brow. “And what if you decide to do the same? Am I stranded here?”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “I won’t be bringing anyone back.”
“Well, I won’t be going home with anyone. I’ve sworn off men.”
He cracks a grin. “What did my fellow man do to you?”
I press my lips together, weighing whether to be honest, lie, or flat out ignore him. Taking a steadying breath, I meet his eyes. “My ex cheated on me.” He lets out a low whistle. “With my best friend.”
“Damn.” His eyes fill with sympathy. “I don’t know exactly how you feel, but I liked this girl last year, a lot, but it turned out she used to know my best friend and there was a spark there for them.”
I smile in understanding. “We’re two sad saps aren’t we?”
He chuckles, pulling the key from the ignition. “No point in being sad when there’s free beer just around the corner.” He winks.
He opens his door and I do the same, meeting him in front of the truck.
Insects chirp from the nearby grasses along with the occasional hoot from an owl. There’s a path cut through the woods that we follow, music in the distance growing louder.
“You ever go to anything like this at your old school?”
“No, never.” Not that I didn’t go out, but if we had things like bonfires, I never knew about it.
We approach an open field and I’m astounded by the amount of people here. It’s hundreds of students, enough to get lost in. I’m glad I have Cole’s number, because I’m not about to get left behind here.
Cole checks his phone and motions for me to follow him to the right where we meet up with the group of guys that were at the apartment on Monday along with some girls that are either girlfriends or just hangers-on.
“My man.” Teddy approaches, doing that guy hand-grab-hug thing with Cole. “Let’s get you guys some drinks.”
We follow him over to an open cooler and he pulls out two of the beers he was drinking at the apartment and passes them over.
“Thanks,” I say, popping the top off on the side of the cooler.
I feel a little awkward standing there with Cole and his friends. They’ve known each other for years and I’m just his roommate. I sling back the beer, gulping down half.
Teddy watches with wide eyes and grins. “My kind of girl.”
“Find another,” Cole growls at him.
Teddy turns his smile to Cole. “Interesting.” Gaze flicking between the two of us he gives a shrug. “I’m going to find me a lady to dance with. Unless you wanna be my girl?”
“Teddy.”
Teddy winks at me. “Sorry, I think you’re claimed.”
“Claimed?” I look at Cole, unable to keep the snarl off my face.
He rubs his jaw, blowing out a breath. “He thinks I … it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want him messing with you with unwanted advances … unless you do want them.”
“I’m not interested in him.” I try to ignore the obvious relief on Cole’s fac
e as he turns away, hoping I don’t see it. “He’s a goof and fun to have around, but not my type.”
He rubs his lips together, and I know there’s a question on the tip of his tongue. But he doesn’t voice anything. Instead, he slides his hands into his pocket and pulls out a fresh piece of gum. This time I think it is because he’s nervous.
I finish my beer and add it to the growing empty pile beside the cooler. Fluffing my hair, I shake out my arms and smile at my roommate. “I’m going to dance. Alone.”
His eyes follow me as I walk over to the actual fire where some people sit on the ground but quite a few are dancing. Sail by AWOLNATION plays, the beat vibrating along with the pulse of my blood flowing through my veins.
I danced from the time I was four through high school. Even though I love math and the sciences, and consider myself on the more studious side, dance has been my creative outlet, a passion. I know I’m good at it, and as I move my body, eyes closed, I know people are watching. When I dance I don’t care why they’re looking at me or what they’re thinking. I do it for me. Because it feels good to move my body, to exist in a moment. Dance is freeing, it’s the language of our bodies.
When I finally open my eyes, they connect immediately with caramel brown ones. He’s moved closer to the bonfire, beer bottle in hand while his jaw works angrily at the piece of gum he’s chewing.
I know I shouldn’t do it.
I’ve sworn off men.
He’s my roommate.
He’s hot as hell.
But I do it anyway.
I crook my finger. It’s a challenge, a silent dare. The ball’s in his court.
He shoves the bottle into the hand of one of his friends, slinking toward me like a panther. When he gets to me he wraps one big hand around my waist, the heat of his palm a brand against my skin. He begins to move to the song as well, and despite our massive height difference it works—we work, but I don’t let my brain linger on that thought too long.
I don’t know if he has any formal dance training, but he moves like someone who has at least some knowledge or basic understanding of rhythm. The fire crackles nearby, and I faintly taste ash on my tongue. His brows are drawn low as he watches me, our movements evenly matched as we anticipate each other’s movements. People still watch, but this time they’re not just watching me. It’s us. Normally I would be scared to put on a show like this, I’m not this bold, but after everything with Todd some spontaneity won’t kill me. In fact, I think it’ll be good for me. It also helps that on this campus no one knows who I am. I like the anonymity of it. I can be anyone.
He knows you, my conscience whispers to me.
But not really, sure he knows who I am, but Cole doesn’t know much of my past, of my hurts, the scars I bear. And tonight, I just want to be, to exist in this moment.
With both hands on my waist, he dips me backwards and my hair falls with me, the ends touching the grass. When he pulls me back up, we’re closer than before. Chest to chest. Heartbeat to heartbeat—well, maybe not quite since he’s such a giant. I crane my neck back as we sway, our hips moving in a sensual rhythm, and our eyes meet.
Lust.
Desire.
Sex.
It’s there. In his gaze. Mine too. We can’t go there, not just because we’re living together, but because I need time. To heal. To stand on my own two feet. To grow.
I pull out of his arms. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.” I bite my lip, truly remorseful. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, taking a step back.
Another.
One more.
Until I’m disappearing into the shadows.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, but he’s not listening.
No one is.
The words are for myself.
9
Cole
Zoey is pretending nothing happened last night. That we didn’t share something. And since she’s acting that way, I’m following her lead.
We walk side by side in the grocery store, picking up some necessities, and on the way back home I promised I’d take her to my job and introduce her to Joe.
Zoey drops a bag of apples in the cart, followed by oranges, and grapes. Apparently, the girl likes her fruit. Next are bananas, some sweet potatoes, and bags of salad.
We decided it would be easier to shop together and split the costs since we like a lot of the same stuff. I don’t let it show, but I’m highly amused by it after her whole not wanting to share speech.
“Do you like zucchini?” She picks up the phallic shaped vegetable.
“No.”
She puts it in the cart. “You’ll like it the way I make it.”
I curse under my breath, scrubbing a hand over my face. I like her and that’s the problem. My eyes watch her ass as she walks in front of me.
Look away. Don’t go there.
We make it through the entire store and then she starts down the cookie aisle.
Turning to look at me over her shoulder, she lifts a finger in warning. “Don’t say a thing.”
“About what?”
“Root beer and cinnamon gum are your vices.” She eyes the packs of IBC and gum in the cart. “This is mine.” She pulls six packs of red velvet Oreos off the shelf and places them in the cart with everything else. “Do you want any? Because I’m not sharing.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re not very good at sharing, are you?”
“I’m an only child.” She gives a shrug like that explains it all. “Well,” she frowns, “I guess technically I’m not, but I never grew up with siblings.” We head toward the checkout and her eyes light up at the floral section. “Plants!” She shrieks like a kid on Christmas. “Ooh, I have to get one.” I pull the cart to the side, letting people go around us as Zoey squeals over the various plants. “I’m getting this one,” she decrees.
“That’s a peace lily.”
She gives me a puzzled look. “Yes.”
“Aren’t those for funerals?”
“They’re for anything, Cole, and I want one. I like plants. I’m impressed you know what a peace lily is.”
“My mom worked at a flower shop.” She nods as she absorbs this information. “Do you want any more plants while you’re here?”
She eyes them and picks a white orchid. “This one. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for the plants separately.”
“I wasn’t worried about your plants, Zoey.”
Though, I suppose I should be since it’s not like I have a ton of spare money sitting around.
We checkout and load the groceries in the back of her car. I get in the passenger seat, my legs cramped even with the seat all the way back. At my height I’m used to squeezing my body in small spaces.
I give Zoey directions to the auto shop, which isn’t far and have her park in front of the building.
“You’re going in with me?” She eyes me when I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Yeah. Thought I’d make the introduction since I’m the one vouching for you.”
She wrinkles her nose, displeased at my involvement but she’s going to have to deal. I unfold my body from the car and head to the door.
Zero-2-Sixty is a small auto shop in the middle of the old town outside of Aldridge. It’s definitely seen better days—the brown paneling in the front office reminds me of the seventies along with the puke green fabric covered chairs for customers to wait on.
Still, despite the appearance, the place is always busy.
“We’re booked,” Joe gruffs, eyes glued to the computer screen and clicking madly at the mouse.
“It’s me, Joe.”
“Cole,” he cajoles in his booming voice, raspy from all the cigarettes he smokes despite always claiming to have quit. “You’re not working today.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, moving aside so he can see Zoey behind me. “I brought someone who’s interested in the front office position.”
“Ah,” he brightens. “Cole, my boy, I can always count on you to save the day.”
&nbs
p; “Hi. I’m Zoey.” She holds out her hand for Joe to take.
“Are you Cole’s girlfriend?”
Her eyes drift to me at his question, her top teeth pressing into her bottom lip. “No, we’re roommates. I’m new to town and looking for a job. Cole suggested this.”
“Good, I’m glad. I hate doing this shit.” He waves his fingers at the computer screen. “And don’t get me started on the phones. All these Karen’s calling expecting me to have an opening right away all ‘cause they got a nail in their tire.” He sighs. “You okay with computers? Phones? Customer service?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re hired.”
Zoey’s brows draw together. “That’s it? That was hardly an interview. Don’t you want to do a background check or something?”
Joe fiddles with his mustache. “You killed someone?”
“No.”
“Robbed a bank?”
“No.”
“Then that’s good enough for me.” He scratches at his stubble. “I assume you’re at the university too?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll work out a good schedule for you then. Anything will help me out. I’d rather be in the shop and much as I can. And don’t listen to anything this kid says,” he points a lazy finger at me, “I taught him everything he knows about cars.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Joe.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he dismisses me.
He takes Zoey’s phone number, promising to call her on Monday since the shop is closed on Sundays.
Back in her car, Zoey starts it up and after clearing her throat gives me a tiny smile. “Thank you for helping me with the job.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“You didn’t have to, though, so I want you to know I appreciate it.”
“It’s really not a big deal.” I don’t do well with praise, I never have—not even sure why.
She laughs. “Can you just say you’re welcome, Zoey, so we can move on?”
I crack a grin. “You’re welcome, Zoey.”
Back at the apartment, between the two of us we manage to carry up all the groceries in one trip. I set mine down, digging in my pocket for the key. Unlocking it, I let her inside first.
Nice Guys Don't Win (A College Sport's Romance) Page 5
