Cole lifts the comforter on his bed, and I scurry over.
“Thank you,” I whisper, climbing in next to him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He yawns, his eyes closed. “It’s fine. I should’ve known you couldn’t handle watching that movie.”
The moonlight gleaming through the bedroom window catches the green color on his nails as he tucks me under the covers, and I smile. He gave in to letting me paint his nails after a little begging. It was the best part of my night.
Actually, tonight was more fun than any other night I can remember.
“Cole?”
His eyes snap open. “What?”
“Are we friends now?”
He ruffles the hair on top of my head. “Sure.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, beaming.
Cole tries to hide it, but there’s a slight smile in the corner of his mouth. “Go to sleep, Princess.”
Chapter Six
Present
GWEN
Sunlight spills into my bedroom through the window, and I cover my head with a pillow, burying my face to muffle my scream. After my little moment with Cole in the kitchen yesterday morning, my entire body felt like an exposed nerve. Even the slightest touch on my hot skin sent painful shockwaves through me. I tried to remedy the situation myself, but nothing worked. There was only one person who could satisfy this need, and that wasn’t going to happen.
By the end of the day, I was a total wreck—crying one minute and having fits of rage the next.
Cole hasn’t been particularly kind since things ended between us, but this was by far the cruelest thing he’s ever done. His stunt yesterday didn’t just screw with my head, he was fucking with my heart now too.
As if I wasn’t already struggling to keep from drowning in the current that is Cole Masterson, he managed to steal another night of sleep from me with one message. Not to me, to Phantom Girl. The alias I used to talk to him.
I tossed and turned for hours, trying to decipher what it meant.
He’s been radio silent for weeks. Though he hasn’t called me out, it can’t merely be a coincidence that he’s reaching out again now, mere days after moving back in here and doing everything he can to make me miserable.
If this is a game, I have to play along. I’m the one who put the pieces on the board in the first place.
I fling the pillow to the other side of the bed, my stomach knotting as I grab my phone and open Instagram. There’s a colorful circle around Cole’s profile picture, and I tap on his smiling face to view the story. A photo of him dripping wet with nothing more than a towel around his waist pops up on my screen, and my entire body heats. An image of Cole all damp and naked is the last thing I need floating around inside my head.
Bastard.
The knots in my stomach tighten when I open our messages. It’s hard to explain what was going through my mind when I sent that first hello. My broken heart was feeling unjustifiably angry and jealous over the girl suddenly monopolizing all his attention.
It was way past time to move on and let him go. I told myself talking to him would give me some closure. A part of me hoped it would prove his bad boy persona wasn’t just an act anymore—that the boy I knew and loved was gone. Only he was as charming as ever, and I’d fallen for him all over again.
It’s not like I planned to keep my identity a secret. Lying to him was killing me. That’s why I told him about living in Westbrook and going to school together. I wanted to come clean. Then he showed up, uninvited, to Shane’s party, reminding me why I couldn’t.
If Cole learns the truth, things could get ugly.
Yesterday 10:45 PM
Hey, stranger.
Hi…
I was beginning to think you
weren’t going to respond.
Yeah…well, you left me on read
for weeks. I wasn’t sure I should.
That’s fair. I’m sorry about that.
I’ve been dealing with some stuff.
Envy drags her sharp nails down the lining of my belly. I’ve heard the rumors about what—or who—has been keeping him occupied lately.
Violet St. James.
Cole is very popular with the female population at Westbrook High. Seeing him with other girls was something I had to get used to. The only thing that made it tolerable was knowing he didn’t have real feelings for any of them.
Then Violet the Saint happened. The girl looks like a living, breathing doll with her golden hair and big blue eyes, possessing the kind of sweet innocence that’s rarely found these days. If her good looks and wholesome personality weren’t enough to win Cole over, the fact that she’s from a struggling middle-class family was sure to do the trick.
For weeks I watched as the two of them grew closer, my heart sinking every time he looked at her—his entire face lighting up with love and admiration. There had only been one other girl he looked at that way.
Me.
It turned out Cole’s friend Thatcher was the one involved with Violet, but it didn’t take him long to screw things up. Now, he’s gone for the summer, leaving Cole to console a devastated Violet. She’s been all over Cole’s Instagram. The petite blonde has apparently managed to fracture the unbreakable bond of the Westbrook Three. Which means Cole must really care about her.
The next message that comes through is another picture of him. He has a white T-shirt on now, his hair a tousled mess of perfection. The playful pout puckering his lips is contradicted by the gleam of mischief in his stare, but it still causes a flutter in my chest.
Forgive me?
Sure. Whatever. It’s not
like you owe me anything.
Aww…you’re mad. Would it help
if I told you I missed you?
I’m not mad. It’s probably better if we
don’t talk anymore. There’s no point.
What do you mean?
I’m never going to tell you my name.
Why not?
Because I’m me and you’re you.
Trust me, this is a bad idea.
Sounds like fun.
More like dangerous.
Same thing.
I bite back a smile and drop my phone on the bed. This isn’t real, never was. It would be too easy to get lost in this pretty lie I created for myself. But this version of Cole doesn’t exist anymore. Not for me. Not since I was forced to break his heart.
Cole will never forgive me. He’ll never be mine again.
The incessant ringing of the doorbell echoes through the house as I rush down the stairs. A text message was waiting for me from Mia when I got out of the shower, informing me that she was coming over. There was no point in trying to explain it wasn’t a good time. I ignored each of her attempts to reach me yesterday during my meltdown, so I knew nothing would stop her from coming over to check on me today.
My parents are spending the day at some winery with their friends, but I have no clue if Cole is still here or what his plans are today. Mia doesn’t know he’s staying here yet. She’ll probably flip when she finds out.
“What in the world took you so long?” Mia questions as I swing the door open.
“I was getting dressed.”
She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and steps inside, her brow furrowed as she studies me. “What’s with the cute little getup?”
I shrug and close the door, looking down at my outfit. My black short overalls and tight white crop top are a little much for hanging around the house with my girlfriend. But it’s not like I’m dressed for a night out or something.
Her head tilts as I meet her stare again. “Wait. You’re wearing makeup too. What’s going on?”
I definitely went overboard with my face—winged liner, red lips, the whole deal. When Mia said she was coming over, I panicked. It doesn’t normally bother me when her effortless beauty makes me feel invisible. But with Cole…
I shake my head in denial, but my reddening face gives me away.
&n
bsp; She gasps, her eyes widening as they roam over to the living room and up the stairs. “Oh my god. Do you have a guy here? Is that why it took you so long to get to the door? And why you ignored me yesterday?”
“No,” I croak.
Her gaze snaps back to me. “Holy shit. You do.”
My stomach drops as she twirls on her heel and runs for the stairs. “Where are you going?”
She takes the first few steps and pauses, a smirk on her face as she looks over her shoulder. “I’m going to go see who you’ve got hiding up there. Unless you want to tell me.”
I sigh, my eyes flickering to the top of the stairs before settling on her again. “I don’t have a guy here.”
She snorts, watching me as she takes two more steps. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
I hold my hands out, begging her to stop. “Okay! Look, there’s someone here, but it’s not—”
The loud bang of a pan comes from down the hall, and I turn my head in that direction. Mia’s squeal of excitement pulls my attention back in time to see her sprint back down the stairs and toward the kitchen.
“Mia, wait,” I plead, following right behind her. “Let me explain.”
She comes to an abrupt stop at the kitchen entrance, and I slam right into her. As we stumble and struggle to stay upright, I spot Cole by the island.
“Gwen,” Mia whispers, “why is Cole Masterson in your kitchen?”
Cole smirks, folding his arms as he leans against the counter. “You didn’t tell your bestie about me?”
My eyes narrow at his choice of words, heat burning my cheeks. Mia didn’t move to Westbrook until after Cole moved out and he and I were no longer speaking. I’ve never told her about our past. She only knows him as the sexy fearsome jokester; everyone’s favorite member of the Westbrook Three. If I had it my way, that’s exactly how it’d stay.
Her mouth drops open as her gaze slides over to me.
“Cole is staying here. Temporarily,” I clarify. “And I was going to tell you.”
Mia blinks dramatically, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. He’s living with you? I thought the two of you didn’t get along. What am I missing here?”
“Nothing. He’s just—”
“Gwen and I go way back,” Cole interjects, pulling our attention back to him. “It’s been a while, but we used to be quite close. Luckily, this gives us a chance to get…reacquainted.”
His eyes flicker over to where I’d nearly come completely undone yesterday, then back to me, and my center pulses with need despite the irritation coursing through my veins.
I avoid Mia’s questioning glare and smack my lips, feigning a bored indifference to his bullshit. “Not happening.”
“Whatever you say,” Cole sniggers, his tone dripping with condescension. “Who’s hungry? I made muffins.”
Mia’s face lights up when she turns back to him, and my stomach churns. I’ve seen it countless times since we’ve been friends, one of the telling signs she’s interested in a guy. The sway in her hips on her way over to him is another.
“There’s nothing sexier than a guy who can cook,” she coos, taking a muffin from the plate on the island.
Cole acknowledges her comment with a smug, lopsided grin then locks his glare onto mine, picking up a muffin and extending it to me. “They’re blueberry,” he says, as if the fact that he made my favorite means I’m obligated to eat one.
“No, thanks. I’m not very hungry.”
His eyes slit as he stalks toward me, but my chin tilts up in defiance once he’s towering over me. “You sure about that, Princess? I won’t ask again.”
The threat behind his words hangs in the air between us as I weigh my options. It isn’t like he would physically force me to eat the damn thing, but there’s no telling what he might do or say if I refuse. Thirteen-year-old Cole once went days only eating what and when I did, and his genius little plan worked. It was horrible watching him grow sicker and weaker with every day that passed. I started eating normally again just to make sure he would eat.
“On second thought, a muffin does sound tasty,” I relent.
Cole’s lips spread into a pleased grin as I snatch the muffin from his hand. But he doesn’t move, waiting for me to take a bite. I bring it to my mouth slowly, meticulously, and let my teeth sink into it like an apple. His green eyes darken with lust while he watches me chew, and heat pools at my center by the time I swallow.
“Satisfied?” My question comes out all breathy instead of snarky.
His thumb sweeps a crumb from my bottom lip, and I press my thighs together when he pops it into his mouth to suck the morsel off.
He leans in and whispers, “Not yet. I’ve only had a taste.”
Then he strolls out of the room without another word, leaving me a puddled mess of sexual frustration. Mia coughs, reminding me of her presence, and my round eyes fly to her.
“What the hell was that?” she asks, fanning herself.
I shrug a shoulder and stuff another piece of muffin into my mouth, giving myself a second to figure out what to say. There’s no simple way to explain this away, and Mia won’t be delighted I’ve been keeping secrets.
“Nope,” she says, shaking her head as soon as I open my mouth. “Don’t you dare say nothing. The tension between the two of you was so hot I nearly came from watching you. Tell me the truth.”
I take a deep breath and nod, dread settling over me like a weighted blanket. “You’re right. There’s a lot I need to tell you. And I will. But not here.”
Chapter Seven
Present
COLE
The material shreds with ease, ripping into pieces as I tear it apart. After Gwen and Mia left, I snuck into her room, needing an outlet for my anger. Though I’d much rather take it out on the football player who gave it to her, his shirt will have to do for now.
She must’ve dug this fucking thing out of the trash and washed it after I left yesterday. It was folded neatly, sitting on top of her dresser. Purposely trying to piss me off isn’t wise.
I smirk at the pile of fabric now in scraps on Gwen’s bed, but my hands continue shaking with rage. She didn’t even tell her best friend about me. Like it’s something for her to be ashamed of. Given the way she chewed up my heart then spat it out, this recent discovery shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
It probably wouldn’t have felt like such a kick to the balls if I didn’t still care about her. I would destroy anyone who hurt her, without a second of hesitation. But that doesn’t mean she gets to treat me like nothing more than a clown here for her amusement. I won’t stand back and let her keep pretending what we had wasn’t real.
I hop on Gwen’s bed and stretch out, letting myself get intoxicated by her jasmine scent. Staying in this house alone all day is not a good idea. I’ve got to find something or someone to keep me occupied until I can deal with Gwen. I slip my phone from my pocket, knowing exactly who to call.
Violet answers after the second ring, releasing a tired sigh before speaking. “You and Arwen really don’t need to take turns babysitting me. I’m fine.”
“Well, hello to you too, Saint,” I tease.
To be fair, she’s probably justified in being a little annoyed with us. We’ve both been hovering since Thatcher left. His lies finally caught up to him, and we were the ones here picking up the pieces of Violet’s broken heart.
She’s always been Thatcher’s girl in our eyes, but it didn’t take us long to grow attached to her. Neither of us expected to care for Violet the way we’ve grown to. Our little saint is special, though. She’s unapologetically herself, with a pure heart. The ugliness in the world hasn’t hardened hers the way it has the three of ours. It’s impossible not to love someone so open and kind.
Arwen and I feel guilty about how things went down with Thatcher. He’s our best friend. It’s been the three of us against the world for years. But Violet is one of us now, and we knew about the secrets he was keeping from her. I feel especially resp
onsible. It’s my fault Thatcher’s dad sent him away to some type of juvenile detention for the summer. I’m the reason Thatcher ended up at Shane’s party. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in finding my Phantom Girl there, he wouldn’t have ended up beating the shit out of Joey Roberts.
“I’m sorry. Hello, Cole. How are you?” Her tone is flat, but there’s a hint of humor in her voice.
“Better now,” I flirt, imagining the tint of pink forming on her porcelain cheeks.
Violet’s never taken my flirting seriously. Not even during the brief period when I questioned my own feelings for her. But at this point she’s like family to me. I only do it to make her smile.
“Yeah, yeah…” She giggles. “Like I told Arwen this morning, go live your life and stop worrying about me. It’s your day off. Surely you have something better to do than take care of me.”
“Actually, I was hoping you would take care of me. You can be the hot babysitter and I’ll be the horny adolescent boy.”
The sound of her musical laughter eases some of the tightness in my chest. It’s so good to hear it again. The day Thatcher left, Violet was a mess. All thanks to Brandi Roberts and her merry band of whores. I’d never seen an angel cry before, and it isn’t something I ever want to experience again.
“Oh my god,” she says. “That’s seriously disturbing.”
“Come hang out with me today. I could use a friend, and Arwen is apparently busy.”
Arwen ignored my call earlier, something she’s been doing a lot lately. I’ve suspected something was going on with her and Aidan Shaw ever since he posted that cryptic photo on Instagram, but it’s blatantly obvious at this point. She’s been suspiciously absent with no explanation of where she’s going or who she’s going with. And every time I bring up the golden boy of Westbrook, she gets all antsy. Arwen should know better than to hide things from me, but I can’t figure out why she’s being all cloak-and-dagger about it.
The Princess and The Jester: A High School Bully Romance (Westbrook Three Book 3) Page 4
