by Lily Ryan
I know it’s crazy, but it’s something I thought about from time to time, when she was a crazy wish I could never have. This way I can talk to her without Tyler or anyone else knowing. Even if they’re a foot away.
“Cole,” Mrs. Stone says, entering the kitchen just as I set Sam’s phone back down on the counter. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” Disapproval sounds heavy in her voice. “I thought I said Sam should have Abby keep her company.”
“Abby couldn’t,” Sam jumps in. “Her parents wouldn’t let her leave because it was already after eleven when I called her, so I got stuck with Cole.” She rolls her eyes as she says my name, like I’m the last person in the world she’d want to be stuck with. I’m not certain if she’s doing that for her mother’s benefit or if she’s really annoyed I’m here.
“Sorry, Mrs. Stone. I wasn’t comfortable leaving Sam home alone under the circumstances,” I’m careful not to move my eyes in her direction. “And I thought this way I could find out how Tyler’s doing without bothering you.”
She shakes her head and walks past me. If she has any suspicions, they seem to be eased for the moment. “I can’t believe he did this. I mean I thought he was smarter than this.”
“Give it a rest.” Mr. Stone snaps at his wife. “Maybe if you paid more attention to your family you would’ve seen what’s going on with him.”
Surprised at the tension between her parents, I look at Sam’s reaction. She looks angry and laser focused on her father.
“The same can be said about you,” Sam directs at him, with narrowed eyes. His jaw tenses but he doesn’t respond to her comment.
Everyone is angry. I guess that’s a natural reaction to almost losing a member of your family. Either that or Tyler’s kept me in the dark about his family shit. That is, if he’s aware of anything. Either way, there’s a more going on here than I know.
“Can I visit him tomorrow?” I ask.
Mr. Stone shakes his head. “He’s agreed to go to rehab. No communication at all for now. He has to earn his privileges.”
“Bet you’re happy about that,” Sam snaps. We all look at her, uncertain where her hostility is coming from.
“Excuse me?” Her father returns her angry glare.
My stomach drops at the anger in her father’s tone. I never heard him speak to Sam like this. This is bad. She needs support now, not anger. It’s been a long stressful night for everyone.
“How long will he be there?” I ask.
I jump in because I don’t want Sam and her father to say things to each other out of anger that they don’t mean.
“Depends on him. On how open and honest he is. He needs to accept responsibility for his actions along with help getting back on the straight and narrow. At best he should be gone three weeks. Unless he gives up and signs himself out sooner,” her father answers.
Sam glares at her father as he speaks and wastes no time jumping on his comment. “It’s important to take responsibility for our actions, isn’t it?”
“You better watch your mouth, Samantha.”
He takes a menacing step toward her and releases a short angry breath. I fight the urge to jump in front of her. I swear if he touches her, I don’t know what I’ll do. Partly because the Stones are my second family, partly because I feel an emotion rise from deep inside me, one I never felt before, that makes me want to stand in front of Sam and shield her from the world.
The whole scene is out of The Twilight Zone. I never heard Mr. Stone talk to Sam like this. She’s his baby girl that never does anything wrong. I should know with all trouble she’s gotten Tyler and I into over the years.
What’s worse is I don’t know how to help her because I don’t know what prompted her reaction to him. Does she blame him for Tyler? For Doug? Is this because of what happened with me?
Mr. Stone’s attention turns back to me. Not what I need right now.
I do my best to keep my face blank. He can’t see how worried I am, or the disappointment I’m fighting because I won’t have an excuse to run into Sam while visiting Tyler. This sucks. It’s probably for the best though, because I don’t know if I can keep up this charade and pretend nothing happened between us.
Although, Sam doesn’t seem to have a problem with it at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s done this before. Maybe Tyler’s not her problem with guys. Maybe her on and off switch is. I’ve never seen a girl turn from burning-fire-hot, to peak-of-an-iceberg-cold in the blink of an eye.
“Thanks for keeping my daughter company,” Mr. Stone says. This is his polite way of telling me to leave. The way things are going tonight, I’m afraid if I don’t take the hint and go right now, he’ll show me to the door himself, and tell me not to come back.
“Yeah, sure thing,” I say, rubbing my neck. I need to go. I don’t want to, but I have no excuse to stay any longer. “Good night.”
“Goodnight,” Mrs. Stone answers.
I head for the door, a little surprised that Sam isn’t following behind with an excuse to walk me out. I turn the knob waiting for her to say my name.
Silence.
I open it. Still nothing. Not even goodbye. There’s no reason to stay any longer. I walk out the door.
I feel like shit. I worried Sam might feel hurt and used if I didn’t handle the aftermath of what went down between us well. I never imagined I’d be the one nursing those feelings.
Chapter 6
Samantha
After getting more details about my brother’s overdose and his rehab stint from my parents, I go back to my bedroom. I can’t believe I freaked out with Cole. I didn’t mean to, but as he slept and I lay there listening to him breathe, I replayed him say that kissing me was a mistake.
If that was a mistake what does he think taking my virginity is? A mortal sin? I didn’t want to risk hearing it. Not tonight when the other men in my life tumbled off their high horses.
Cole’s the only one that didn’t turn to shit in my eyes. At least not yet. He was everything I needed on the worst night of my life. He gave me something special. He brought my fantasy to life and gave me a memory I will cherish.
Everyone says they remember their first time vividly. How much better is it that I had my first time with the guy I’m head over heels in love with? Even if he doesn’t know or feel the same?
I pick his sweatshirt up off the floor and toss it on my bed. I climb under the covers and hug it tight to my chest. The faint scents of Cole and sex hang on my pillow and between the sheets. I close my eyes and let the memories of the night lead me into a sweet sleep.
*
I linger in bed Sunday morning until early afternoon. Everything that happened last night is surreal. From my squeaky-clean brother overdosing, to having sex with his best friend. I still can’t believe it. Even the thought doesn’t feel real. But as I get up to go to the bathroom, the soreness down below assures me it happened.
I reach for my phone. Abby will never believe it. I have to see the look on her face. I send her a message.
Me: Need 2 talk about last night. Coffee in an hour?
Abby: K, usual place?
Me: See you there.
There’s a little blood on my bottom sheet. I think about stripping the bed and putting it into the washing machine before my mother sees, but change my mind. It would look too suspicious. Plus, I’m not ready to get rid of Cole’s scent and wash it away for good. I want to hold on to the details of this memory for as long as I can.
As I go back and forth with myself, another message comes in.
Drew: Good morning, beautiful.
I look at the name again and draw a blank. I don’t know a Drew. I don’t respond.
Drew: You awake, sexy?
Me: Sorry, you have the wrong number.
Drew: No chance. I typed my number in your phone myself.
My brows furrow, who the hell is this? I don’t know a Drew, and he’s right, his name came up on my contacts. That means the number was programmed in my pho
ne. This isn’t a random wrong number.
Me: When?
Drew: Last night. At your house.
The only guy at my house last night was Cole. I take a moment to think. How did he come up with Drew? Cole Andrews- Drew. It is Cole! I can’t control the wide smile on my face any more than I can the fluttering of my heart in my chest.
Me: I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t know what you’re talking about, last night I was stuck at home entertaining my brother’s friend.
Three bubbles pop up immediately. He’s typing back. Good. I got a reaction from him.
Drew: Entertaining? Is that what you call it? ;-)
Me: Yes. I did what I could to keep him pleasantly occupied and I showed him an abundance of warmth and hospitality. I entertained him in every sense of the word.
Drew: I don’t doubt it. I’d bet you’re pretty skilled at . . . entertaining.
Before I can respond, another message comes in.
Drew: Wait, stuck? What do you mean stuck?
Yikes, I hope I didn’t just insult him. I need to lighten the mood. Type something light so he knows I’m joking.
Me: Once he decided to keep me company there was no changing his mind. And you’d think with the house to ourselves he’d want to do more than close his eyes and go to sleep.
Drew: I’m sure with your stellar entertaining skills, he did more than sleep.
Me: True. But he did fall asleep on me.
Drew: Ah, you should toss him to the curb. He sounds like a drag.
I don’t know how to take this. He’s making it seem like I have a choice. Maybe I’m just making something out of nothing because it’s what I want. Or maybe this is his nice way of saying last night was a onetime deal and it won’t happen again?
Me: I think you’re right. I mean the guy wouldn’t even consider going for round 2.
Silence. No typing bubbles. Nothing. I jump in the shower, hoping for a response when I get out. Rinsing the soap off me, I convince myself to pull back the curtain and take a quick peek at my phone sitting on the counter. Still no response. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up the fact that we had sex?
I step out of the shower and towel off when the next message comes through. With wet hands I grab for my phone. It slips and falls to the floor, but doesn’t break. I’ve never been more thankful for the case protecting it, because if the screen shattered and I couldn’t read Cole’s message I’d go stark raving mad.
I close my eyes and take a breath. Get a hold of yourself. It’s just a text.
For me it’s more than that. A lot more. It’s a lifeline.
Cole initiated the conversation. He took the time to add his number to my contacts. I have to mean more to him than just a quick, easy fuck. I’m sure his feelings for me aren’t anywhere as strong as mine are for him, but the important thing is that he has feelings for me. And feelings can grow.
Cole: We should talk.
My heart stops. My throat closes.
I wish I didn’t see this message. These words are never good. They’re the preamble to a broken heart. How the hell am I supposed to respond? I’m not the one that initiated contact. I want to say no. That we should just leave things the way they are, this way I get to keep my memory happy. This way Cole doesn’t turn into an asshole.
Cole: ?
I guess I have to answer him and get it over with.
Me: I’m on my way to The Steaming Cup to meet Abby.
Cole: Can we talk first?
Me: Sure. Where? Here?
Cole: The Steaming Cup is good. How about I pick you up outside of your development and drive you over?
Me: Outside my development?
First, he wants to talk. Now he’s embarrassed to be seen with me? WTF
Me: Why not my house?
Cole: Your parents. They’ll ask questions.
This isn’t making me feel any better. In fact it rubs me the wrong way. I’ll show him. I may have had an off night last night, but I’m not some pathetic chick he needs to handle with kid gloves. I’m strong and right now the only way I can show that strength is in driving myself.
Me: I’ll meet you there.
Nervous critters awake and cause havoc in my belly. I’m not sure if I want to double over or throw up. I look at the jeans and shirt I planned to wear lying on my bed. The outfit is fine to meet Abby in, Cole, not so much.
I search through my closet for something better and settle on a thin long sleeved sweater with a deep v-neck. It shows enough cleavage to tease while not being completely slutty. I keep the jeans and add a pair of chunk heeled boots. Today, I dress to impress.
I let my hair dry naturally to enhance my curls. Instead of the minimal eyeliner and foundation I normally wear, I add eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. Looking in the mirror the impossible happens, I’m satisfied with my reflection. I just hope I didn’t take too long.
It’s hard to breathe on the ten minute drive over to the coffee shop. I feel like a safe fell on my chest and I can’t squirm out from under it. I don’t know what Cole has to say or if I’ll want to hear it. He has me completely off balance, but if it’s not good I want him to get a look at what he’s missing out on.
*
I take a deep breath as I pull the door to the coffee shop open. I scan the tables of patrons glued to their phones or nose deep in their laptops. No sign of Abby. Or Cole. That sucks. I exhale and every bit of confidence I pretend to have slips away.
With nothing else to do, I get on line to place my order. The door opens. I fight the instinct to whip my head around and see who entered. I don’t want Cole or anyone else to know how anxious I am.
“May I help you?” A skinny guy with a mop of dark hair asks.
“Frozen coffee with whip.”
Footsteps close in behind me. It’s Cole. He’s not touching me, but I feel him in the way my body turns into a sack of bouncing beans. My pulse races with excitement. The familiar scent of cedar that clings to him assaults my nose.
I close my eyes hoping I can gather my emotions and play it cool. The key is in my ability to “pretend” I’m not hanging on by a thread. Because if Cole has any idea of how desperately I want him to pull me in his arms and kiss me right now, it would send him running far and fast.
One more deep breath and I turn to face him. He looks better than usual. I’m not sure if it’s the twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes, or the way his dark hair falls today. No matter what it is, I’m struck dumb when my eyes land on his.
I search for something to say, but the only thing I can think of is, “Hi.”
“How’s Tyler?” He asks before placing his order.
He wants to talk about my brother? Or is this his way of breaking the ice before he breaks my heart?
I shrug. “Same as last night. He’s stable.”
“That’s good.” Cole nods and I notice the lump in his throat move when he swallows. He looks uneasy. Great. This isn’t good. I’m right to expect the worst.
“Want to go sit?”
Without answering, I move toward the seated area and find a table with two soft chairs, away from the rest of the crowd. I sit, and he follows suit. Cole sets his coffee down on the table between us and rubs his palms along his thighs. I don’t remember ever seeing him so nervous.
“So,” he starts. “
“So.”
The air is thick. Heavy. Chock-full of tension. I don’t know if I want him to jump straight to the point and get it over with, or hem and haw so I could pretend he’s not about to shatter me for a few minutes more.
“How are you?” With narrowed eyes, and a stoic look on his face, he examines me like I’m a commodity he’s evaluating.
“Fine. Why?”
“I don’t know, you seemed a little off when I left last night, and I want to make sure you’re good.”
Ah, Cole’s worried about self-preservation. He’s making sure I don’t regret what happened to the point that I cause problems for him. Jerk.
“No worr
ies.” I offer a fake smile. “I’m fine.”
Someone enters the shop. I turn my head to the side looking for Abby to save me. It’s not her. Some best friend she is, leaving me to wait for her while I squirm under Cole’s scrutiny.
This is the first time I can remember not wanting to be alone with him. I don’t want his attention today, because he’s looking to closely and he’s sure to find cracks in my surface.
“You don’t seem fine.” He leans back in the chair, his eyes measure me.
“Well I am,” I snap. “Look, I know what you’re going to say, so let’s get it over with.”
“You do?” His eye brow quirks up.
“Yes.”
“Great. Fill me in.”
I shake my head. Why is he being such a jerk? Is he looking to get off by hurting me? “Fine. I get it. Last night was a mistake. We should go back to the way things were, where you’re Tyler’s best friend and I’m his annoying sister, and we have nothing to do with each other.” I say, looking everywhere but at Cole.
“Is this what you think I’m about to say or is this what you want?” His brows furrow.
“I don’t know. Maybe a little bit of both.”
“So you regret it?” He accuses. Am I crazy or is there a hint of sadness in his tone?
I shake my head, close my eyes and take a deep breath, debating if I should be honest or hide behind the shield of indifference I found last night. I want to go with honesty because there’s a spark of hope between us I don’t want to let die. A spark that grew into a tiny flame when Cole texted me earlier. A spark I’m afraid he’s about to smother and kill.
Indifference, will kill it for sure. It will kill anything good between us, because no matter how good I think I can pretend, I’ll hurt on the inside and trip up eventually. It may be an extra-long look, or a lingering touch, but somehow, someway my real feelings will creep up between us. Once unmasked, he’ll see me as a liar, that can’t be trusted.
I go with honesty.
“No regrets, Cole. I wanted it. I’m just stating the obvious so you don’t feel awkward about it.”
“You’re not stating the obvious. I’m not thinking anything like that, Sam, let alone saying it.”
