“Yes.” I kissed my mom’s cheek and hit the door, muttering, “Get me out of here.”
* * *
On the car ride home,I searched Cole’s face for any sign of what he was thinking. He had to be disgusted by my family home. He’d always looked out for me, but he’d made it clear we didn’t belong together.
Once, a group of boys decided to pick on me at the local swimming hole. I was twelve, my breasts had come in early, and I was starting to attract all sorts of attention. Cole used to lifeguard at the beach, but it was just a coincidence he was there that day when my tormentors surrounded me. With a word and look, Cole sent the boys packing, and I had my hero back again.
I stepped close to hug him, but he stiffened and moved away.
“You need to be careful, Regina,” he said.
I glowered. I hadn’t asked for the stupid breasts. “Whatever, Cole,” I said. He was eighteen, a new recruit in the police academy. Girls had mourned when he shaved off his blond hair, but I loved the short, pale buzz. I wanted to run my hands over it, see if it was as soft as it looked.
To test him, I took a step forward, and he retreated, looking away as if my presence pained him.
He was still the good, golden boy, and I was a little dark-eyed girl from the wrong side of the tracks.
“I hate you anyway. You’re just as bad as the rest of them.”
That was the last time Cole stuck up for me. I wondered what had changed.
I slumped in my seat as Cole’s truck idled at a stoplight. God forbid someone on the sidewalk see us together.
“This is never going to work,” I muttered to the truck window.
“What’s that, Regina?”
“I said, what about work?”
“What about it?”
“Well, I need money, you know, to pay bills.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Cole.” I braced my hands on the dash and stared him down until he transferred his eyes from the traffic light to me.
“I said I’ll handle it. I think you need a break. I’ll make sure you’re covered until the end of the month, and then we’ll reassess.”
My forehead crinkled. This was serious. I could handle spankings and crazy sexual tension, but don’t mess with my money. “How long is this going to last?”
“As long as it takes,” he said, a muscle jumping in his cheek.
I thumped the dash. “That’s not an answer.”
“As long as we want,” he said, hoarsely, and we weren’t just talking about the deal.
“Is this a good idea?” I asked quietly. We still were dancing around where this arrangement was headed, and I was fine with that. I liked to dance. But I wasn’t willing to risk fucking up real things, like rent and bills, for a fling with my long time crush.
He glared ahead at the road. “How do you mean?”
“You’re risking a lot for me.”
He didn’t answer.
I cast about for another reason. “Do you really want people to see me with you?”
“Why would I care about that?”
