by H. M. Ward
Chapter 3
When Cole returns, I'm working at my desk. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't notice. When he sits down he acts the way he did before our roll on the floor. My stomach is twisting in knots. Looking at him makes me want to touch him, his beautiful face, his silky hair, so I turn back to my computer. The screen glows in front of me. I edit pictures until I can't see anymore. The world has turned blurry, and my eyes sting. Cole tells me to leave several times, but I won't. The work isn't done yet, and in truth, I don't want to leave him. I want to see if there's more there. If he'll take me in his arms when the last photo is edited, and the computers are shut off. But, he doesn't.
We speak to each other like good friends and nothing more. I've become accustomed to his voice, the intensity of his gaze. Passion burns within him in a way that I couldn't have imagined. When we finally get through with work, we ride the elevator down to the lobby together. It's past midnight. I cancelled my break-up dinner with Edward to finish working. That was the only good that came out of staying late.
Cole is leaning against the metal rail in the elevator. His eyes are on the side of my face. I have my head tipped back against the wall, tilted up, eyes closed. Every muscle in my body aches. Between the heat and the number of hours I've been awake, I can barely stand. The thought of walking and then taking multiple trains home clouds my thoughts.
Finally he breaks the silence, "You shouldn't go home tonight. " His words sink into me. I wonder if I'm hallucinating when I open my eyes and look at him. He's staring straight at me, acting like he just said something completely reasonable.
I know what he means, but I smile and say faintly, "Yeah Cole? Where should I go?" I shift my weight to the other foot. I can't look at him. I don't want any of the hope that's filling my chest. It's telling me that he wants me, that he likes me, that he'll act on it. I beat it down, and stuff it into a closet at the back of my mind.
He leans an arm above me. Tilting my face up to see his, he says, "Come home with me. I can tell you're exhausted - "
I stare at him. My heart is pounding. I can't tell what he's thinking, what he's offering. I play it safe. Shaking my head, I say, "It's okay. The subway isn't too far and I'll be home in less than an hour - "
His hand cups my cheek, "My place is less than ten minutes from here. Think about it. In fifteen minutes you could be in a hot shower, in thirty you could be relaxing with your feet up. " He reaches for a strand of hair and tucks it behind my ear. "Come on, Lamore. I can't turn you loose on the streets. What if someone molests you?"
Lamore. He put that distance there, like we're buds - but he's tucking hair behind my ear and standing too close for that. I don't understand what he's doing. It's like he wants me, but hasn't committed to the idea yet.
My voice is light, "Oh, and you won't?" I laugh, but it sounds hollow. I tell myself it's because I'm tired. It has nothing to do with making bad decisions based on libido in an elevator.
He leans closer, his lips nearly brushing mine. When he speaks, his warm breath slips across my mouth, "Not unless you want me to - "
Our eyes lock. It's the first time either of us has said anything, made any indication that. . . that what, Anna? My inner nun is beating me over the head with a ruler. He's too old. He's too wild. He's nothing I want, nothing I need. Cole Stevens is chocolate-covered sin and I need someone steady, like fiber. My mind flashes to Edward, to vanilla, good old reliable Edward.
I smile softly at him and lean my head back against the wall. "I can't," I hear myself say. "I have to get home and pack. We're supposed to leave for Long Island tomorrow and I haven't packed a thing. And there's something else I have to do. It's important. " I'm biting my lower lip. His eyes fixate on the movement.
Cole nods, saying, "I see. " Stepping back, he slides his hands into his pockets.
I realize that it sounds like I'm blowing him off. I reach out and touch his shoulder. He looks down at me more cautiously than before, "Cole, I really have to do something. I need to break up with my boyfriend. I can't leave for three months and lead him on. I was supposed to do it tonight. " I'm staring into his eyes, thinking but I want to stay with you and here you are offering and I'm saying no. What the hell is wrong with me?
"I was just offering you a bed for the night," he says, like he meant nothing - like I mean nothing. The elevator chimes that we are on the ground floor. The doors slide open and save Cole from getting slapped. I want to scream at him. I want him to stop playing and tell me what he thinks, but he strides away. When we exit the building I grab his arm. He stops and looks at me.
"Tell me what you want. " There. I said it. Point blank. My heart is slamming into my ribs and I feel like I can't breathe.
He nods, smiling, and continues to walk toward a black car parked at the curb. I follow. Emotions are flowing through me in a maddening rush. I don't know exactly what I want from him or what I expect him to say, and when he responds I can hear the darkness in his voice warning me away, "Miss Vanilla, you shouldn't say things like that to me. You won't like where they lead you. "
By the time he pulls the car door open, he's back to being carefree happy Cole. He looks apathetic, like he doesn't care about me one way or another, but his eyes tell another story. His eyes are nearly twenty years older than mine, and have seen things mine will never see. It's like the speck of soul that shines through has been snuffed out and replaced with a Cole that knows the world and knows there's no future for us. My stomach falls into my shoes. I don't like that world.
Before he slides into the car, he looks at me and says, "Last chance. " The way he looks at me makes it clear that this is an invitation to his bed, not his home.
Something about the way he says it sounds like a one-night-stand. While Cole might be insanely hot, I'm not that kind of girl. I shake my head. My voice is soft, "I don't do one-nighters. Sorry. " Before he can say anything else, I turn on my heel and walk away.
