by Blair Holden
I stare at him, at a loss for words, and then decide it is better to let him mull it over in his own head.
***
“So I have a question,” I tell Cami as we’re studying in the campus cafe the next day. She has a flight home next week, and I already know I’ll miss her and Sarah a lot. My roommate, quiet as she is, has been such a godsend this year, and were Cole and I not thinking about moving in together, I know we would be roommates our sophomore year as well. Cole’s moving out of his current apartment as well since his lease is up, and we’re planning on moving into the nicer block of apartment buildings that will have openings once the seniors graduate. I’ve been thinking about bringing it up to Cami and Sarah, asking if they’d like to move as well but haven’t really found the right time.
“You don’t even need to ask, dear, sweet Tessa. Of course I’ll swap boyfriends with you. Anytime you want me to put up with the fine specimen that is Cole Stone, I’m going to volunteer faster than Kanye can tweet and delete.”
“You’ve got to stop hitting on Cole and saying his full name all the time. It’s creepy.”
“Not as creepy as some of the comments I see on websites about him. I didn’t even know it was possible to do all those things to one person.” She shudders and I decide to not even ask, because if something can shock Cami, then there’s pretty much no hope for the rest of us.
“Coming back to what I originally wanted to ask, on a scale from one to ten, how relevant am I still in the social hierarchy?”
She thinks about it for a while, seriously contemplating her answer. “Well, you were a six last week after someone saw Cole groping you in the locker rooms and Snapchatted about it.” She fans herself. “Damn, that was steamy, but right now you’ve been knocked down to a three or a two because everyone has finals and honestly, there’s just way more exciting stuff going on with the greeks. The kinds of scandals that come out of there? You have got nothing on them.”
“So, then, hypothetically speaking, if Cole and I were invited to go to a snazzy gala that would be pretty widely covered by the media and where it is very much likely that I will make an absolute idiot of myself, I won’t be seeing it all over social media, right?”
Cami gapes it me. “How snazzy are we talking?”
“Pretty snazzy.” I’d been to a few of the fundraisers that my grandparents had thrown as well as some hosted by my dad’s friends, but none of them had been at this scale. Months of planning and a lot of money was being spent to make this year’s fundraising gala for the Saint Mary’s Hospital and Children’s Medical Center the most successful in years.
And it would be, given that Cassandra Stone was in charge of the organizing committee. From what I’d seen of the guest list, we would have politicians, billionaire businessmen, celebrities, and whatnot. The cause was geared toward children with cerebral palsy and was being championed by a local actress whose only son suffered from the condition. My entire town had joined hands to make sure that we could raise a good amount of money, and I’d be flying home right after my last exam, along with Cole, to get ready.
I give Cami the details and she stares at me, affronted. “I want to go too; I’ll buy the ticket. I’d like to contribute toward a good cause as well. Any entertainment that I get out of it is purely a bonus.”
“Are you saying you want to go home with me?”
“Of course! You need someone to make sure you don’t feed the gossip monster any more than you have this year.”
In a way, this was an attempt by Cami to let me know that she would be okay if I invited her to stay with me for a few weeks. We didn’t talk much about her home life, aside from the fact the two girls she came to college with, her former friends, haven’t so much as looked in her direction since the school year started. I know the abandonment has hurt, but she’s moved past it now, and I love her too much to ever treat her like those girls did, like she embarrassed them or that they were ashamed of her.
“Then pack a bag because we’re heading home.”
She squeals and hugs me. Books are pushed aside and she begins planning a shopping trip to find her the perfect princess dress with just the right amount of sultry not skanky, her words not mine.
***
Speaking of dresses, Cassandra’s been sending over some photos for me to choose from. She knows my size and measurements and has been kind enough to find me something to wear because I could barely lift my head from the books long enough to check Nordstrom. I can’t help but reminisce about the last time I needed a dress and how Cole, my dear sweet Cole stepped in and made my heart explode into smithereens. I never really could recover after that, couldn’t resist him and sure as heck couldn’t deny my feelings for him. It wasn’t the dress itself but the idea that there was someone out there who thought of me, who cared enough to put himself out there and make himself vulnerable. I’ve been remembering those days more often than not because it was such a different time; the only real problem between us was me being able to figure out how I felt. Now, there’s a bigger chance of everything but our feelings for each other going wrong.
I’m scrolling through more of the photos that Cassandra has sent, my mind distracted with the onset of nostalgia. Life feels like it’s coming full circle, another ball, another dress, yet another occasion where I could absolutely embarrass myself, but I’m more than ready to let loose, even if it entails being drunk enough to indulge in some public indecency with my hot-as-heck boyfriend. Clearly, I have my priorities straight. It’s a charity gala, for heaven’s sake, the hormones must be reined in. I clear my head of certain suggestive images and catch up on all of Cassandra’s emails, then reply with the dresses I do like. I would order one for myself but I would rather first get the go-ahead from Cassandra since it’s her big day and I don’t want her stressing about me not looking right. I know she’s not like my mom—the farthest thing from her, actually—but I don’t want to add to her already full plate. For me, I’m more than ready to spend some much-needed time with the people closest to me, to go home and have this one night where we can all just enjoy good food, good music, and absolutely no college drama. The more I think about it, the more excited I am, and the more I’m looking forward to the actual event. Yes, it’s going to be full of rich, stuffy geezers who want to show off their money, but I’ll be with family and that’s all that matters.
I’m just about to power off my laptop and go over to Cole’s when the man in question walks into my room, his face hardened with a grim expression and his eyes angry as he slams the door behind him and kicks it multiple times. I jump, startled by his anger, not knowing why he’s behaving this way.
“Cole, what’re you doing?” My heart’s starting to race but he doesn’t answer me. Gripping the back of his head, he leans against my door with his forehead pressed to it and kicks it hard twice. Getting up, I walk over to him and run my hands up and down his back, trying to calm him down a little. He doesn’t really let me see this part of him often, the part that struggles to keep his anger and violent tendencies in check. I’m not clueless, I know he’d had a lot of issues in the past, issues that landed him in dangerous situations and distanced him from his family. Since coming back, he’s largely reined in the anger, and it only comes out when the circumstances are truly bad, and it seems like something really terrible must’ve happened for him to react like this.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Tell me, please.” I keep rubbing his back, trying to calm down his tense muscles, but there’s still so much anger in him that it’s starting to scare me. I don’t really want to know what it is that’s got him so riled up.
He curses under his breath and then turns to face me, looking anguished. “We’re not going home this weekend.”
“What? Why’d you say that?” My mind is reeling, trying to find a reason behind his strange behavior. I look at him closely, trying to assess if he’s drunk or on something. Between wanting to switch his major and this, I can’t be sure if the pressure of being in his positio
n isn’t getting to him.
“Cole? Tell me, what happened? Why aren’t we going home?”
He grits his teeth. “Because we just can’t. We’ll go somewhere else instead. Take my card, book a ticket for anywhere. Let’s go to California; you like the beach, don’t you?” He moves toward my laptop, like he’s actually going to start booking us a vacation.
“No, stop it! You’re starting to scare me. Are you high? You do realise you sound insane right now, don’t you?”
He’s not even listening to me, concentrating a bit too hard on his magical Californian vacation. While I actually consider pouring ice-cold water over him to shake him out of his stupor, my phone rings from where it’s tucked inside my back pocket. I take it out to see that it’s my brother calling but also notice that Cole’s watching me like a hawk, like if it’s the wrong person calling me, he’ll swoop in and throw my phone out the window.
“Who is it?” he asks casually.
“Cami, she, uh, needs some help with picking an outfit for her date. I’ll just go to her room.”
I slip out before he can think too much about how bad of a liar I really am and walk quickly down the empty hallway. Since I’ve missed Travis’s call, I call him back and he answers instantly.
“Hey, catch you at a bad time?”
“You could say that. Cole’s acting weird.”
“Weird how?” he asks carefully.
“I don’t know, just weird. He came into my room really upset, and when I tried to ask him what was wrong, he told me we couldn’t go home this weekend and is apparently booking flights to California. My head hurts, Trav, is everything okay back home?”
He clears his throat, silent for a while, but then starts speaking and I wish he hadn’t. “The good news is that I can explain your boyfriend’s behavior, and the bad news is that you’re probably going to hate the reason.”
I take a seat in the small sitting area we have on this floor, keeping an eye on my door. So Cole’s behavior has something to do with stuff back home—that’s never good. I can hardly control what happens here on campus, and it’s absolutely impossible for me to keep an eye on things that happen back home.
“You sitting down?”
“Yes, stop scaring me and tell me what’s going on.”
“Dad’s in the papers again, this time minus the two of us.”
“Oh god, how bad is it?”
“Bad, real bad. Look, I don’t want to you to hate the man because this happened a long time ago, but some women of a certain kind of reputation came forward and gave the press detailed interviews about how they know dad.”
“Hookers?” I almost yell and then slap my hand over my mouth.
“Keep it down, will you?”
“What’s the freaking point? Dad hired hookers and now everyone knows about it!” I curl up into a ball and press my knees into my chest. “How long has this been going on? And what does it have to do with Cole?”
“Shit blew up this morning, it started out with a trashy paper trying to get an interview from Dad. But it’s become a significantly bigger problem as more and more reporters start noticing. I think Dad might be withdrawing from the campaign.”
“Well, at least he got laid.”
“Tessa,” Travis scolds me, “it was a long time ago.”
“Like when he was married?”
“Yeah, but do you even want to get into the number of guys Mom was seeing on the side?”
I shudder. “No, thank you, I’d prefer a lobotomy instead. But disturbing mental images and horrible, stigmatizing press articles aside, what does this have to do with Cole’s meltdown and him wanting to skip the gala?”
Travis takes a deep breath. “After everything that’s just happened, do you think we’re still invited?”
“What do you mean?”
“Cassandra just called and trust me, she didn’t want to be making the call, but the board was pressuring her because of the controversy. We’re no longer invited, especially not when Dad’s even considering resigning from the mayor’s office before he’s officially sacked.”
“Christ.”
I do not know how to feel; there’s a strange mix of emotions swirling inside of me. Of course I’m embarrassed by the fact that my family is going to be picked apart once again and that within the confines of my small town, we’ll be a huge joke. I’m glad for college, the largeness of it and the insignificance of politics, but mostly I’m hurt that once again, Cole and I have been put in a situation neither of us should be in. His behavior suddenly makes sense; he doesn’t want to be the person who tells me that I’m no longer invited to the event his stepmother’s organizing, the one I’ve been so excited to attend. My heart breaks just a little, but there’s this sick, twisted part of me that’s happy that if I don’t get to go, then Cole won’t either.
“So they’ve kicked us out? Anything else I should know before I come home for the summer? Will I have to put a paper bag over my head?”
“I don’t know; let me venture out to the supermarket and get back to you on that.” He says dryly, “If old lady Jillian doesn’t throw holy water at me, we’re good.”
“How’re you this okay with everything?”
“Been there, done the town pariah thing, and what I’ve learned out of it is not to give a shit what these people think. I just wanted to give you a heads-up because I know you were looking forward to the event. But honestly, Tess, these people are poison right now, and you don’t want to be around them...”
It still hurt, though, the fact that I’d so easily been kicked out. I’m still licking my wounds when the phone is snatched from my hand and I look up to see Cole with a seriously ticked off expression on his face.
“I got her, Travis, you don’t need to worry.”
I’m not sure if I want to be a part of this conversation, two boys trying to protect me without actually getting me involved. I push past Cole and go back into my room. When Cole comes back in, I go straight for the jugular.
“FYI, I don’t have the fondest memory of beaches, considering what happened when we went to a beach house the last time.”
Cue Erica flashback, she who must not be named is absent, but her presence certainly takes up the entire room.
“That was a low blow, Tessie, you know I was only trying to protect me.”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Are we really going back to that? You trying to protect me, and the only way that happens is when you hide stuff from me or lie? Let’s just not get into that. I feel like we’re stuck in some vortex where we’re living the same day over and over again where you do stupid stuff and tell me that it’s because you want to protect me. And I even know what you’re going to do next. Apparently my getting worked up makes you hot, so you’re this close to crossing the room and kissing the living daylights out of me. I usually succumb, but not this time, mister! I had onion-and-garlic soup for lunch, so the joke is on you.”
Cole’s mouth tips up and it looks like he’s barely controlling a smile, so I launch a pillow at him. “Hookers! My father paid women to sleep with him, and now all of them want to share uncensored details about their ‘private time;’ that is beyond disgusting and a cruel, cruel joke...”
He raises his hand mid tirade, like a little schoolboy wanting to ask his teacher for permission.
No, we are not into role-play, thank you very much.
“Can I kiss you now because you look really hot?”
“Ugh!” I throw another pillow at him. “You,” I point at him, “are still going to that gala. I’m not that selfish that I do something like that to Cassandra. This is my family’s fudged-up mess and it’s all on me, so you don’t get to do this to your family, okay?” I’m hurt, of course I am, but I can’t let Cole see just how much the rejection has humiliated me or just how much I’d been looking forward to going with him. I need to swallow my pride and get over the fact that I’m no longer considered appropriate company, that my presence could potentially embarrass Co
le.
Dodging my attempts to push him away and ignoring my fake threat of onion breath, Cole pulls me into his arms and quiets me with a long, searing kiss.
“You and me, yeah, guess what? We’re a package deal. They don’t want you to come, then I’m not going either.”
He melts my darkened, time-hardened soul, he really does. I’m never going to be Little Miss Sunshine, certainly not the right girl to help him fight his demons, but if anything, he’s the light to my dark. And I’m done dragging him down with me.
“You will put on that expensive, sexy-as-sin suit we bought together, and you will go to that gala.” He opens his mouth to interrupt but I keep talking. “I’ll wait for you at home,” my voice turns breathy and it’s not purely an act, “You deserve some kind of a reward for listening to me, right?” My thumb traces his full bottom lip and Cole swallows heavily. “Do this for me, please; let’s not put your family in a difficult spot.”
He stares at me intently for a while before flopping onto to his back on the bed. “This better be one heck of a reward, Shortcake.”
Chapter Nine: Like a Zit, He Waits for the Worst Time to Pop up
“Do you think Travis will still love me if I kill your dad? Come to think of it, with the way he’s been acting lately, I think he might actually love me more.” Beth’s face is serious as she contemplates my dad’s murder.
“Yes,” Megan tells her dryly, “there’s nothing more romantic than homicide, especially if the victim is your significant other’s parent.”
“Shut up, smartass, I’m actually thinking this through. No father, no drama; no drama, then both my best friend and my boyfriend are happy. I’m not seeing a downside here.”
“How about handcuffs? And jail time and the risk of getting frisky with Maureen the Manhandler?”
“Woman-handling in this particular scenario, but do go on,” I tell Megan, “I really would appreciate someone talking me out of letting her kill my dad.”
