by Piper Rayne
Cole sucks some of his milkshake up his straw. “Mmm. Maybe Canadians are right. This is good.” He takes another quick sip and slides it across the counter in my direction. “Want to try some?”
“Sure.” I lean over and Cole’s gaze is once again intent on my lips. A smile curves at the corner of my mouth as I taste his milkshake. “Wow. That is really good.”
We each enjoy our sweet treats in silence for a few minutes before Cole pushes his away and turns on his stool to face me.
“I need to save some room for my meal,” he says, patting his stomach.
“Good idea,” I agree after I’ve taken another quick sip.
“Did you study journalism when you went to college?” Cole asks, catching me off guard.
“I was an English Lit major, but I was involved with the campus newspaper.”
“That’s got to be good for your résumé.”
“I suppose.” I shrug. Doesn’t seem to have gotten me very far on my job search.
“Where did you say you went to school again?”
It’s an innocent enough question, but I tense in my seat. The moment I’ve been worried about is here.
I can’t pretend that what’s happening between us is temporary or that we’re simply bang buddies. I might not know exactly what this is, but I know what I want it to be. And for us to stand any chance at all I’m going to have to tell him what happened the night he ditched me all those years ago, and how I blamed him for the trajectory my life took.
“I ended up at Berkeley, but I was supposed to go to University of Nebraska.”
A crease forms in his forehead. “Nebraska is a really good school. What happened?”
He must be able to tell that I’m uncomfortable because he reaches over and engulfs my hand in his much larger one, rubbing his thumb back and forth over my knuckles. The act is soothing and nice.
I draw in a deep breath and decide to rip the duct tape off. “Do you remember the night we were supposed to go on that blind date?” He nods, the crease in his forehead deepening. “After I spoke with you on the phone and I left the restaurant I was so mad. Fuming. It was getting dark and rather than take a cab home I decided to walk off some of the adrenaline running through my system. I was too preoccupied with what was going on in my head and wasn’t watching my surroundings.” Cole squeezes my hand and since I’ve been staring down at the counter while I tell this story, I finally look up and meet his gaze.
“About halfway home a man approached. He was right up in my space before I realized what was about to happen.” I swallow past a lump in my throat as the memories come back. “Thank God all he wanted was my purse, but instinct had me fighting him for it, which I know was stupid, but in the moment… I don’t know. I didn’t think, I guess. We fought and he ended up pushing me to the ground before running down the street. I landed funny and injured my shoulder. Could barely get up off the ground. I had to wait until someone else came down the street and they called an ambulance.”
Cole’s gaze drops from mine and he looks down at the black and white tiled floor. “Shit, Whit. I don’t know what to say.” He’s frowning and shaking his head. “What does that have to do with you not going to Nebraska?” He lifts his head and the pained expression on his face takes me back a moment.
“I had a full scholarship to go to Nebraska and play volleyball. The injury to my shoulder was bad enough that I would never be able to perform at the same calibre I was playing at and so they pulled my scholarship. I ended up going to Berkley by default, racking up student loans, and was never able to play at the collegiate level.”
My words hang in the air between us.
I’m sure it’s obvious, but in case it’s not I need to get it all out. There’s no point in doing this halfway.
“Cole, the reason I hated you so much was because I blamed you for what happened. I blamed you for the fact that I was never able to pursue my dream and for the fact that I left school buried in debt. I told myself that if you hadn’t acted the way you had that night, I wouldn’t have been on the street at that particular time, or if I was I would have been more aware of what was going on around me and I’d have seen that guy coming. I held you responsible for all of it.”
He lets go of my hand and leans forward, dropping his head into his hands, not saying a word.
I’m not sure what to say and so I wait. And wait.
When he finally turns on his stool to face me he cups my face in his hands. His eyes are full of guilt and sorrow.
“No wonder you hated me. I’m so, so sorry.” He presses his lips together and sucks in a deep breath through his nose. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
I move my hand up to cover one of his. “I didn’t know what to say. And then as I got to know you better I realized something… it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault except the guy who mugged me.”
“No, Whit, if I hadn’t—”
“Stop. That’s why I’m telling you now. Because I want you to know that spending time with you has taught me something.”
“What could I have possibly taught you?” He looks on at me like he’s hanging by a thread waiting for my answer.
“Sometimes things just happen—good and bad—for no other reason than they just do.”
The hard lines of his face soften a bit and I’m hopeful that he’ll be able to forgive himself the same as I’ve done.
“That’s difficult to accept.” I can see that he wants to believe me. Because if he can’t it will be something that stands between us always. I know exactly how much those emotions that you push down can fester and grow until you’ve conjured up a whole story in your mind and it’s hard to even remember why you felt that way in the first place.
“You have to accept it. You have to if you want this to continue.” I let my hand drop and motion between the two of us.
He nods, though reluctantly. “I will never be the cause of you hurting like that again. Ever.”
He leans in and his lips meet mine with a kiss infused with determination and promise. I melt into him and the thought crosses my mind that there’s no longer anything else between us. It feels like I’m all in and rather than fear, all I can focus on is the amount of joy wanting to burst out of my chest.
27
I plop myself down in the booth and slide over to make room for Tahlia. Lennon’s sidled up to the bartender she flirted with the last time we were here, probably deciding between the storage room and alley.
“How are you doing?” I ask as I remove my jacket and place it between the wall and me. Tahlia takes off hers as well and hands it to me to do the same with hers.
“Was I crazy to think that planning my wedding was going to be more fun than this?”
We spent the day dress shopping with both Tahlia’s and Chase’s mothers. It was clear from the get-go that Mrs. Santora had some strong ideas about what type of dress would be suitable for Tahlia to wear to ‘the wedding of the decade’, or so her mom had dubbed it. Tahl and her mom clashed more than a few times over the course of the day.
“Everyone just wants the day to be perfect.” I reach out and rub her back while she leans forward and places her head in her hands to massage her temples. “I’m sure once all the big decisions are out of the way everyone will relax a bit.”
I say the words I don’t believe. But hey, what are friends for if not to blow smoke up your ass when you need it?
“I’d say we could each use a little of this after today.” Lennon slides a tray in front of us and crawls into the booth on the other side. The tray holds a drink for each of us and six shots.
To my surprise Tahl reaches forward for one of the shots and pours it down her throat, coughing and sputtering as she slams the empty shooter glass back down on the tray.
“That’s awful. What is that?” she asks.
“Rock Hard Whiskey,” Lennon replies with an evil smirk.
“Oh, that’s Cole’s little pet project. Did you know that?” Tahl ask
s her.
“I think someone must have mentioned it at some point. Sounds familiar.”
That someone was me, of course. I know what Lennon’s doing. I told her I was going to come clean with Tahlia about boinking her future brother-in-law. I’d planned to tell her after dress shopping, knowing we had plans to have a couple of drinks, but after the way the day went I’m second-guessing whether now is the right time.
“I don’t think you’re their target market, Tahl,” I say.
“No, probably not.” She stares at the empty shooter and spins it around and around, deep in thought.
Lennon removes her jacket and then the light, long-sleeve sweater she had on underneath. “It feels good to take that off. I was sweating like a fat man in a sauna at the dress shop, but I knew your mother would have a conniption if I showed my tats off in that place.”
My eyes widen and my eyeballs almost burst out of my eye sockets when I see what’s on her t-shirt. At the top of the shirt just above her breasts it says: WANTED and underneath there’s a picture of a cartoon rooster leaning back with a satisfied grin on his face, only this rooster has a unicorn horn on its head, a pink horse tail and pink hair on top of its head. Underneath the cartoon are the words: APPLY WITHIN.
Tahl’s face is scrunched up. “What the hell is that supposed to be?”
“A unicorn cock. Get it?” Lennon smiles wide. “Apply within?” She winks.
“I don’t even know what that is,” Tahlia says.
“It’s the cock that ruins you for all other cocks. Right, Whit?” She’s giving me those eyes like now is the perfect time to divulge my secret. Is she crazy? Wait. I already know the answer to that.
“Yeah, I guess.” I reach forward and grab my own shot glass, downing it in one gulp. The taste reminds me of the night I met Cole and only serves to make me feel that much guiltier for not being forthcoming with Tahlia.
“Oh,” Tahl says. “I wouldn’t know.” She’s looking down at her hands on the table.
Lennon and I exchange a concerned glance and then look over to our friend.
“Is everything okay, Tahl?” I ask.
“Yeah, you don’t exactly seem like the blushing bride these days,” Lennon adds.
Tahlia reaches for one of the glasses and brings it to her mouth to take a sip. “I don’t know. I mean, yes, everything is fine, it’s just… I have so much pressure on me at work. And there’s a million decisions to be made for the wedding. I thought Chase would be more hands-on than he has been and so everything is falling to me to handle. My mother… well, you know my mother. She’s so concerned that I’m going to embarrass her by not choosing the right food, the right cake, or the right invitations. And the wedding planner she hired is making me batshit crazy. That old broad wouldn’t know class if you hit her over the head with it. I mean, who suggests peach as the accent color for a wedding? It’s not 1986. I have no idea how she came so highly recommended. I’ve just got a lot going on. I’m sure once all these decisions are out of the way I’ll feel better about it all. It’s just not how I pictured planning my wedding to be.” She takes a deep breath and leans back in her seat, seeming to relax a little at being able to vent and get her frustrations all out.
Lennon and I are both quiet for a minute before we say anything. I think we’re both in shock. I’ve never heard Tahlia speak so much at once.
“Maybe you should postpone the wedding,” I offer. “So you have more time to get everything done.”
Tahl gives a caustic laugh. “Are you kidding? Everyone knows it’s supposed to be this spring. My mom would never allow it. People would think there’s trouble between Chase and me.”
I glance over at Lennon, urging her to say what I’m sure we’re both thinking. She takes the hint.
“Is there trouble with you guys?”
Tahlia whips her head up, her eyes narrowing.
Lennon puts her hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m not implying there is. I’m only asking because you seem so stressed out lately and you’ve lost that la-la look you used to get on your face whenever you mentioned Chase.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tahl responds and lifts her glass to take another drink.
“Please. If I put a cartoon of you on my shirt you’d be this wisp of a blonde thing with hearts in her eyes, her hands clenched to her chest.”
Tahl’s shoulders sag a bit before she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.
“You know you can talk to us,” I say, now really concerned that Lennon’s hit on something here.
“Things are fine between us. When we see each other. Which isn’t a lot these days. He’s usually busy with his family’s business, or I am. Or I’m trying to nail down decisions about the wedding that he doesn’t seem all that interested in weighing in on. But that’s probably normal, right?” She looks between Lennon and I with a hopeful expression. “I mean, what guy really wants to be involved in picking color schemes or which trim to cut the invitations in?”
“In my experience, just the gay ones,” Lennon says.
A small smile plays on Tahl’s lips.
“You two are just under a lot of pressure right now. You both have so much going on. I’m sure once this passes you’ll be back to your usual selves.” I reach forward and squeeze her hand.
“Yeah, you’re right. Getting married is a lot of pressure for anyone, but with the two families we come from it’s even worse. We just need to get through this planning stage and then we’ll be good.”
“Glad that dilemma is solved,” Lennon says and then fires back a shot without flinching. “Now, I’m dying to know what you girls think of my Tickled Pink vibrator!”
Tahlia and I exchange a glance.
I’m not sure what to say because I haven’t tried it. I can’t get the image of Sparky with it between his teeth out of my head. The vision isn’t exactly conducive to becoming aroused, but I can’t bring up that entire fiasco in front of Tahl.
“You guys have tried it, right?” Lennon asks, her hands pressed to the table in front of her.
“I haven’t yet. I’m sorry.” I grimace as she shakes her head in mock disappointment at me. It’s hard to get worked up over a vibrator with a dog’s teeth marks in it.
“What about you, Tahl?” Lennon crosses her arms over her chest.
“I’ve been travelling and I’m not going to take something like that with me. What if security wants to search my luggage at the airport?”
I giggle because Tahlia looks beside herself at the thought.
“How am I supposed to improve my design and secure more investors if I can’t tell people it’s tried, tested, and true?”
“I promise I will give it a go this week, okay?” Tahl says.
I nod in agreement. I’ll need to call Lennon on the side to let her know the fate of the pink sex toy she gave me.
“I want you each to report back.” She raises her hand to catch the bartender’s eye. When he looks over at us she holds up the empty shot glass and wiggles it side to side. Like a good bartender, he understands the non-verbal signal and winks at her before turning to grab some empty shot glasses from the shelf behind him.
“Did you ever sleep with him that night?” I ask.
“What night?” Tahlia asks.
“When you were out of town we came here for drinks and Lennon was determined to take him home.”
Tahl nods, unaffected, because this is not an uncommon occurrence for our friend.
“Of course I did.” Lennon takes a sip of her drink and sets it down. “Then I gave him that awesome tat you see on his forearm.”
We both glance over and spot the tattoo in question as he’s pouring liquid fire into a shot glass.
“Nice,” I say. Not because we’re friends but because Lennon is amazing at what she does.
“Well. How was it?” Tahlia asks.
Lennon shrugs. “Not bad. Eight out of ten. Worth repeating.”
“I guess we’ll have to
make sure each other gets home okay tonight then,” I say to Tahlia. “Sounds like Lennon’s busy later.”
“Here’s hoping.” Lennon raises her glass and we all follow suit. “May we get what we want. May we get what we need. But may we never get what we deserve.”
We all laugh and clink our glasses together.
It’s good to have some time with just the three of us. Even if the guilt I feel from keeping something from one of my best friends is eating away at the pit of my stomach.
After we’ve all taken a sip of our drinks and set them back down Tahl scoots out of the booth. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
She’s barely out of earshot before Lennon pounces.
“Are you still going to tell her about Cole?”
My eyes dart to the hallway that Tahlia just entered to make sure she’s not headed back this way. “I don’t see how I can. You heard her earlier. You saw her all day. I think she’s at her breaking point. What do you think?”
Lennon runs her hands through her chin-length black hair and then fluffs it up a bit. “I hate the fact that we know something she doesn’t, but with her state of mind right now I honestly don’t know how she’d react.”
I take a large swallow of my drink. “I don’t want to be responsible for ruining what’s supposed to be one of the happiest times in her life.”
“Doesn’t seem like that’s the case anyway.”
“I know. That’s my point. I’m worried about her.” I bite my bottom lip.
Lennon focuses on the glass she’s spinning around in her hands before she answers. “Me, too.”
“I think I should wait. She has some strong opinions about Cole. I’d be surprised if she was happy about the news.”
“Fine. But you can’t wait too long. Sooner or later it’s going to come out and it’ll be a thousand times worse if she finds out from someone other than you.”
I nod, knowing she’s right, but still feeling like I’m caught between two pieces of bread in a shit sandwich.
