It’s a petty thought, but, hey, if I look like it, then I have to act the part—bring on Diva Tessa.
“So? What’s the verdict?” Beth asks as she’s trying to tie up her combat boots. She’s wearing a tight, red bodycon dress and carrying it with a confidence that is quite foreign to me. Her apprehension gives way to a relieved and satisfied smile when she catches the awestruck look on my face. She knows she’s done it; she’s given me some of my confidence back. It’s what I need for a night out with Cole. Who knew I’d fit the cliché, give a girl the right shoes and she can rule the world? Then again, sometimes it feels like one could call my life a congregation of life’s cruelest clichés.
If the alliteration fits…
“Cole definitely isn’t prepared for what’s about to hit him.” Megan grins smugly as she curls her own hair. She’s come around and strongly back to cheerleading for Team Cole. I think Alex had a lot to do with it, but she’s definitely been more supportive, and I could use that in truckloads.
We walk out of the room to a gawking Alex. His lips part and mouth hangs open as he takes us in, in all our club-attire glory. But when his eyes come to rest on Megan, we know there’s no looking away. She’s rocking her skintight jeans and cropped silk camisole. I look around for any sign of Cole but am horribly disappointed when I see a Post-it Note stuck to the fridge. It’s his handwriting, and when I get closer, the now extremely offensive piece of yellow paper is telling me that Cole will meet us at the club. Apparently, he has to see some friends who were seemingly more important than spending time with the rest of us.
I try to ignore the hurt and laugh at the rather anticlimactic end to my efforts to blow my sort-of-boyfriend’s mind. Now that I think about it, it does put the feminist movement to shame. Dressing up for my man? What decade is this, the 1950s?
Scoffing, I pull myself back together and turn to Beth, who’s chewing her lip nervously over my shoulder.
“So how drunk are we going to get tonight?”
***
We end up at a club called Nova where Alex’s cousin works. It’s convenient enough because we get to skip the line and no asks us for IDs. Inside, it’s exactly like what one would expect a club to look like. What’s glaringly obvious is that we’re not in a small town anymore. The girls and I sit in the bar section of the club, which has a direct view of the dance floor, and order our drinks. I let Beth make that decision since some cheap beer and wine is the extent of my alcohol knowledge and consumption. Honestly, she could possibly kill me from alcohol poisoning and I wouldn’t really know that it’s happening. In fact, I rather like the idea of some good old tequila, or maybe some vodka; whisky has a nice ring to it, too, and I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of scotch. I’m distracted, and it’s annoying. I want to get lost in the music, dance with my girlfriends, get drunk and wake up with the hangover from hell, but I can’t. My eyes are glued to the entrance.
Where is he?
Weren’t we supposed to be using this time to move past our problems and get closer, to try to solve our problems and put them behind us? So, then where is he, and what’s so important that he would bail on me like this?
Knocking back the burning, bitter liquid in my glass like a seasoned pro, I grab my friends’ hands and drag them to the dance floor. The music is loud, reverberating through me and breaking through the hurt and the apprehension. I love the song that’s playing, and it gets easy to lose myself in it and let my body take over. We laugh and move our hips, pretending to be seductresses but ending up cracking up, making people roll their eyes in our direction. After a few songs, Alex comes up to Megan, and we lose them to the crowd. Beth and I go to the bathroom to freshen up, and when she gets back, she drunk-dials my brother, against my better judgment. Travis is smart enough not to be expecting us to paint fingernails or be braiding each other’s hair at midnight, but he also isn’t going to be particularly pleased by the fact that his little sister and his girlfriend are, well…busy getting sloshed.
I shrug and let her go to her death, returning to the floor. Travis can be handled in the morning, and you don’t just let a Beyoncé song go by without dancing. Pretty soon I’m lost in a world of my own, eyes closed and thoughts of a dark-haired boy shoved into the darkest corners of my mind. I feel the constant heat of bodies behind me. Strangers dancing nearby but not quite crossing the invisible boundaries that define club etiquette. But then, after a while, there are strong hands at my waist, pulling me back, and the feel of someone rocking their hips against mine. In my inebriated state, it feels nice. His hands never stray, just gripping my sides firmly, and there’s no grinding. We just roll our hips in synchronization, and it’s completely innocent.
I don’t feel the urge to see the man’s face because as long as I don’t, I can pretend he’s anyone I want him to be. Besides, it feels good to be noticed, to have someone pay you that kind of attention and give you such closeness. Everything doesn’t feel like a wasted opportunity right now.
“Get your hands off her.” The warning uttered in a low, threatening voice forces me to open my eyes and push aside the encompassing drunken haze. Goose bumps break out over my skin, and the hair at the back of my neck stands up. He’s here. God, he’s here, and he’s pissed off. He made me wait for him for hours, and now, when I’m a sweaty mess, with my makeup melting beneath the lights and my legs sore from dancing in high heels, he has the nerve to show up and be angry.
“What’s your problem, man?” The shaggy-haired blond guy I’ve been dancing with asks Cole. And yes, that’s exactly what I want to know, too. I turn toward Cole, who is standing there in a plain gray T-shirt and jeans, looking all brooding and sexy.
“Yeah, what’s your problem, man?”
I emphasize my point by poking his chest repeatedly. He doesn’t acknowledge my question but simply narrows his eyes at me. He then steps toward my new friend a bit threateningly and subjects him to a look so fierce that it would have reduced lesser and, well, relatively not as drunk, men to puddles on the floor.
“My problem is that you had your hands all over my girl, and if you don’t step away from her in five seconds, I’m going to have bigger problems.”
The poor guy’s eyes widen, and his Adam’s apple bobs nervously as he takes in Cole, who is both heavier and taller than him. He then looks at me and must decide that I’m probably not worth the hospital trip, since he scurries away from me faster than I can feel the insult.
But now I’m mad.
Who the hell does Cole think he is? How dare he go all alpha male on me when he’s the one who hurt me? Again.
“You didn’t have to do that!” I glower at him and he clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. He’s got that look about him, the one that tells me that he might have been drinking. He isn’t drunk yet but is on the verge of it. His senses have dulled enough, and his emotions are heightened, but he’s aware of them, of everything.
“What?” He scowls at me. “Was I interrupting something? I sat there and watched that fucker grope you. And I let him do it. I let him do it, because I thought that that’s what I deserved. I deserved watching another guy’s hands all over you, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let that happen.”
People are watching us. I can feel their weighty glances, but at this point, I can’t be bothered to care. This is the most passion and honesty I’ve had from Cole for a long time. He’s so busy treating me with kid gloves that he’s forgotten that I want this from him, too, this raw and brutal vulnerability.
“That’s not what you deserve,” I tell him softly. “Why would you do that? Why did you let me pretend that the random stranger I was dancing with was you? Because that’s all I wanted; I wanted you here with me. Not him, just you.”
His eyes become glassy and then his gaze heats up, warming me to my core. He yanks at my wrist, drawing me away from the pulsating crowd. I catch the worried glances of our friends and give them a reassuring smile. Cole doesn’t scare me; when I’m with him, I’m th
e safest I’ve ever been.
He’s on a one-man mission to get us alone, and I can sense his urgency. So, when he pushes me against the wall of an empty corridor, I’m prepared. He leans against me, pressing his forehead to mine.
“You make me crazy,” he breathes.
“Ditto.”
His lip twitches and his mouth curves into a smile. “I would say I’m sorry for acting like a jackass out there, but I won’t.”
“And I should be mad at you for being such a caveman, but I’m not.”
“It turned you on, didn’t it?” He grins, and it’s scary how easily and effortlessly we go back to being us. The questions still linger at the back of my mind, but I now know that there’s a good enough explanation for everything. I don’t doubt him like I would have; the world isn’t crashing down around me. We’re just…us.
“Shut up!” I laugh and smack his shoulder.
“It did, didn’t it?” he says, sounding smug and way too happy teasing me.
I huff out loudly, “Even if it did, you just ruined the moment.” I pretend to be annoyed.
“Oh yeah? We’re going to have to fix that, then.” The heated gaze is back, and my breath hitches.
“Oh My…”
He brings up his hands to my face, his fingers trailing over every feature. My lips, nose, eyes, chin, and even the sensitive spot behind my ear burn where his fingers trail. His touch lingers, almost worshipping. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes, and my eyes close on their own accord, a contented sigh escaping me.
“Me, too,” I breathe as he drags his knuckles down my neck, over my collarbone, and nearly down the front of my dress.
“I like the dress,” he whispers in my ear, and I gasp as his teeth lightly scrape against the skin of my throat. “But so did every other guy out there. I wanted to kill them all.” He continues driving me crazy with his gentle ministrations.
“You’re feeling particularly murderous tonight.” I feel him smile against the crook of my neck.
“It’s all your fault; apparently, you like the idea of me in prison.” He nuzzles his nose against me.
“I…I don’t.” Honestly, I’ve lost my train of thought; who could blame me? When Cole Stone’s doing such magical things to you, coherence or presence of mind isn’t really much of an issue.
He kisses all over my face and I’m lost, utterly and completely lost to him and what he’s doing to me.
“Tessa?” he rasps as he moves my hair to one side, exposing my bare shoulder and then kissing it.
“Hmm?” I mutter distractedly. He needs to talk less and do more of whatever he’s doing.
“Can I take you home? Because we need to talk, and I don’t know if I can…I’m losing any semblance of control here, and I’d rather not do this in the dirty doorway of a club.”
Whoa.
What do you say to that?
I have questions, a lot of them. We do need to talk about a lot of things, and he’s still being a bit evasive, but we have all the time in the world. Right now, though, I pull away, only to nod once, and then it’s all a frantic rush to just be alone. To be Cole and Tessa, and, if it were possible to die from anticipation, then I would.
Chapter Six: Stop Being So Sweet and Shirtless
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cole move faster than when he’s tugging at my arm and walking us both out of the club. Palpable excitement bubbles though my chest, and any effect that the alcohol may have had on me is quickly disappearing. Cole Stone is definitely more intoxicating. He keeps shooting glances back at me, like he thinks I’m going to vanish at any given second, but I smile at him reassuringly, basically telling him that this girl isn’t going anywhere. It’s funny how my feelings for him are always all over the place. I can go from hating him immensely to loving him with just as much extremity in a matter of seconds. That’s definitely not going to be the tagline of a functional relationship, but, hey, to each his own.
Outside it’s a warm summer night, and there are still lines of people waiting to get inside the club. A few, okay a lot of them whistle and yell not-so-polite things at me as we pass them by. Cole glares at the source of each and every, er, comment, and they pipe down pretty quickly. Scowling, he spins and asks me, “Couldn’t you wear a coat or something?”
I should be offended at such a caveman mentality, and a small part of me is. It’s not my fault that men are such constant horn dogs, and I shouldn’t have to cover up in order to save myself from their perverse looks, but that’s a battle I’ll fight another day. Right now, I can’t help but laugh at how adorable he looks.
“You want me to wear a coat, in this temperature? Seriously?”
“It’s either that or I’m going to have to go knock that guy’s teeth out,” he yells at someone who had apparently been checking out my backside. All of a sudden, I start laughing and laughing hysterically. It’s all so ridiculous, men leering over me. If they’d seen me a couple of years ago, I’m pretty sure they would have reacted differently. The fact that guys would find me sexually attractive is baffling on its own, and having a boyfriend like Cole threaten them away is even more mind-numbing.
“What’s so funny?” Cole pouts as he pulls me to his side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. God, I love it when he’s all possessive. I try to stop laughing, but the side effects of alcohol linger, making the situation funnier than it actually is. Clutching my sides, I lean into Cole and stifle my laughter into his shirt.
“It’s just…” I gasp, still feeling a bit hysterical, “this time last year I was in bed in my Scooby pajamas, gorging on chocolate therapy, hoping Jay would notice me. It’s just funny how different everything is now.”
His entire body stiffens, and I’m pretty sure mentioning Jay was a big mistake. But he recovers quickly, squeezing me tightly and kissing the top of my head. “It’s a new summer, baby, we’ll make plenty of new memories, and none of them will involve my deadbeat brother.”
I melt into him, kissing the spot over his heart, and close my eyes while he hails a cab. Everything is already so much better. It’s miraculous how much of a difference it makes being with and without him. It’s not healthy, that kind of dependency on a person, and I’ve suffered the consequence of being so addicted to him. The wounds are still fresh, the memories still traumatic, and a wiser person would be cautious before plunging headfirst into a relationship, but that person’s not me. I’m tired of being cautious, of holding myself back when I know that the kind of happiness Cole brings me can’t be matched by anything else. The small voice at the back of my mind nags me, though, reminding me that the heartache Cole brings is unparalleled, too. I give that voice a proverbial middle finger.
When we finally manage to get a cab, Cole literally has to drag me inside, I feel that tired, but everything changes once we get in an enclosed space. As Cole tells the driver the address to the penthouse, the excitement and thrill from the club comes rushing back. The tension between us is palpable, especially when Cole captures my hand with his and then places them both on my thigh. He grins at me mischievously before using his thumb to trace circles on the bare skin that the bottom of my dress doesn’t quite reach. My breath hitches and I sneak a look at the cabbie. He seems oblivious to the fact that I’m losing my mind over some innocent caressing. But then as Cole’s fingers begin to move higher, I realize that it’s not so innocent and that he’s enjoying my squirming. I swat his hands away and try discreetly nodding toward the driver. He grins and leans in as if he’s going to kiss me, and my heart nearly barrels through my chest. He still hasn’t kissed me on the lips, and I don’t know how I feel about it happening in the back seat of a New York City taxi with a cab driver who has now started glancing warily in our direction from the front mirror. But just as I prepare myself to say screw it and kiss the life out of Cole, the man is question changes direction and places his lips next to my ear.
“We can’t have an audience for what I’m planning, Tessie.” He kisses the sensitive spot beneath my e
ar and then moves away, casually resting against his seat like he hasn’t just unhinged me to the core.
Jerk.
I narrow my eyes at him and then turn my head stubbornly in the opposite direction, watching the city pass by us in blurred images. I hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t attempt to touch me again and I’m glad. Being so on edge, if he made another move, I would self-destruct if he didn’t go through with it. And everything feels more, more vivid, more consuming. Maybe it’s the wait; maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long since we’ve been together like this and known that it might lead to something bigger. There’s no ax hanging over our heads, no guilt or distrust on either side. A weight feels like it’s been lifted, and the freedom that comes with it makes this moment so much sweeter.
As we get dropped off and pay the cab driver, who looks relieved to get rid of us, Cole and I enter the lobby of the building and head for the elevator. There’s no rush this time, though, but our measured movement perhaps more symbolic of how we’re actually feeling. There are nerves, definitely, but there’s also this underlying expectation and perhaps acceptance that things need to or are about to change in the best way possible.
We are alone in the elevator leading up to our floor, and it’s understandable, seeing how it’s so late and the tenants are mostly wealthy early risers from the corporate sector. Cole and I stand on opposite sides and watch the numbers go up. The silence is thick with expectancy, and I have chills running up and down the length of my body.
“I was with Lan and the guys,” he says quietly, taking me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting an immediate explanation and had prepared myself to shove the questions onto the back burner for now. But it seems like Cole has other ideas. He leans his head against the side of the elevator, looking up at the ceiling and expelling a frustrated sigh.
“They want to help, come up with some master plan that’ll help me figure out what the hell happened that night. I know…I know that I was drunk enough to not realize what the hell I was doing or with whom, but that doesn’t make it okay. The look on your face when I told you about what I had done, God, it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”
The Bad Boy’s Heart Page 7
