Thea is mild-mannered but protective. She’s been through a lot and that makes her nervous, skittish.
Cole is… unapologetic. Intimidating. Beautiful. A force to be reckoned with.
Both tend to hold the world at arms length, so it’s encouraging to see them open up to one another.
Not for the first time, I think about Cole’s friendship with Maya—or lack thereof—and how lonely it must be to not have anyone. I imagine Cole putting her delicate hands on her hips, telling me she doesn’tneedanyone. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’twant…
And, as I hoped it would when I moved back, luck is on my side because the menace herself just walked by the coffee shop.
Cole looks adorable, per usual. She’s got an oversized Hawthorne University sweatshirt on over loose fitting jeans. Her typical “fuck off” boots are laced up halfway, as if she just didn’t have it in her to finish the job. A haphazard braid curls over her shoulder. She looks tired, though I would never tell her that.
All of the lights are off, so I’m sure she doesn’t realize I’m in here when she stops to read the flyer on the front door. It’s got all of the typicalComing Sooninformation on it. Soon is relative because this renovation has taken much longer than any of us anticipated. She scowls, hiking her backpack up onto her shoulders.
I inch closer to the door but she doesn’t see me until I’m right on the other side of the glass. When she finally realizes I’m there, she lets out a string of expletives, doubling over as she catches her breath. “For fuck’s sake, Benjamin. Warn a girl next time!”
Her voice is muffled through the glass, and I can’t help but crack a smile at her distraught state.
“Quit laughing at me!” She doesn’t miss a thing. Never has. I unlock the door to let her in and then hold up my hands in surrender.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“So you regularly stare at unsuspecting women through a window.” She narrows her eyes. “Why are you wearing those glasses again?”
“To see…”
She rolls her eyes, cocking that damn hip out to the side. “Honestly, Benjamin. I am aware of the general purpose of glasses. However, I did not realize you were… how should I put it? Visually lacking. You never answered my question about it the other day.”
“We are getting older.” I step to the side, holding my arm out for her to enter. To my surprise, she doesn’t argue.
“My vision is still 20/20,” she brags as she passes. It takes everything in me not to inhale her heady scent—a sweet mix of vanilla and caramel.
“Not all of us can be perfect, Colette.”
She huffs a laugh, taking a look around. “The place looks…”
“It’s a mess,” I finish for her. There’s a pile of hardwood flooring in the corner, ready to be put down. A stack of chairs lines one wall with one singular long table in the center of the dining space. I’ve been working from there most days, so I can supervise and make decisions while Jules is still at school. He’ll be done any day now, and I know he’s itching to be in the shop full time.
My steps are hurried as I place a few chairs around the table. I had just stacked them up for the day when Cole walked by, but now that she’s here I’m not eager to let her leave. “You can study here if you’d like,” I offer. “I can grab something for you to drink? Diet cherry cola?”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Why do you have diet cherry cola?” I know it’s her favorite, but I shrug instead of answering her.
She sighs, mumbling to herself but sets her backpack down, though, I can tell she’s wrestling with herself about it. I leavebefore she can say anything else, getting the drink I promised her.
Popping the top on her can, I hand it to her as she plops down into the chair. “I have some more emails to answer, so you’re welcome to stay here and work for as long as you’d like.”
That’s a lie. I have zero emails to answer. It’s a stark contrast from my life in Boston where I felt like I was always working.
She yanks a psychology textbook out of her bag, followed by a laptop, a planner, and a pencil bag, ignoring me completely the entire time. I take a few sips from the soda I got for myself and pretend to be doing something of great importance on my computer.
What I’m actually doing is sneaking glances at the gorgeous redhead across the table from me. She flips to a marked chapter in her book, her finger slowly tracing across the page. An involuntary shiver runs through my body at the thought of that finger tracing… other places. Her brow furrows when she gets to a particular line, and she glances at her laptop screen as if she’s cross referencing something.
I admire the light dusting of freckles, almost too faint to notice, that covers the tip of her nose and cheeks. She’s illuminated by the bluelight glow, her brown eyes looking practically black as they reflect her screen.
It’s so quiet in here, I’m about to ask if she wants me to turn on some music when she says, “We aren’t having sex again.”
Choking on my spit, I erupt into a coughing fit at that statement. “I—” I don’t even know what to say to that. Cole hasn’t even looked up from her schoolwork after dropping that metaphorical bomb.
“Not even one more time?” I try. “I can be good.”
