We’ve always been inevitable. Even if she doesn’t realize it.
“So,” I whisper conspiratorially, “were you the one who freaked Thea out? I thought you two were becoming friends.”
Cole bristles, looking toward me out of the corner of her eye, but not turning to fully face me. “It’s not my fault she isn’t comfortable talking about sex.”
“And you are?” I question, my eyebrow quirking.
“You aren’t?” She matches my expression, a batter waiting for the pitcher to throw the next pitch.
“Of course I am. You can’t grow up in the Bardot house andnotbe comfortable talking about sex.”
She makes a gesture with her hand as if to say,See!“I’m just trying to get her used to it,” Cole replies. “Seems like she’ll be around for a while.”
I hum in agreement. Because Thea will be around for a while. Jules has never shown interest in anyone the way he does with her. And there’s the whole baby thing. But I get the feeling Jules wouldn’t have cared whether she was pregnant or not, he wanted Thea from day one.
That, I can understand.
“Don’t just stand there,” Cole cuts in. “Make yourself useful, Benjamin.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wink, earning an eyeroll and a swish of her ponytail as she shakes her head.
We unpack supply boxes in companionable silence. She seems to already have a place for everything to go so I follow her lead. The entire time though, I keep coming back to Cole’s friendship with Thea and, in turn, her former friendship with Maya. That and Mom’s insinuation that Cole has had some difficulty in the last few weeks. I’m desperate for her to open up to me.
“Spit it out.”
I stop unloading various paper cups from the box in front of me. “Excuse me?”
“You are thinking very loud over there,” Cole clarifies. “What is it?”
My stomach does an idiotic flip over the fact that she noticed me, the smallest seed of hope that shecares.
I shove it down.
“Well, I was thinking about friendships.”
“We aren’t friends, Benjamin.”
Yup, shoving that hope down deeper.
“I wasn’t talking about us, Red. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” I pause. “Or do—I’m happy to help.” I smirk.
“Fucking hell,” she mutters, head hitting the shelf in front of her. “Fine, what friendships were you thinking about?”
“You and Maya.” It’s as if I dropped a bomb inside this storage closet. Cole pauses for a heartbeat, and I can see the look of pain that crosses her face. And then just as quickly she rebuilds her mask of indifference.
“We aren’t friends, either.”
“But you were.” I let that linger. My tone softens before asking, “What happened?”
She’s quiet for a long time, so long that I think she’s not going to answer my question. I wait, my pinky finger finding hers. To my complete and utter shock, she doesn’t withdraw when I tangle my finger with hers.
When I’m just about to change the subject, she starts talking. “Maya and I… struggled when we left for college.” Cole’s opposite hand comes up to fiddle with the bulk box of napkins, twisting it so it’s lined up perfectly with the front of the shelf. “I’m not a good friend—” She holds her hand up when she sees that I’m about to protest. “Let me rephrase. I’m not good at being a friend.
“Maya and I were more so friends out of convenience than anything else. I didn’t know anyone when I moved here in middle school. Maya knew everyone, as you probably remember. She was my opposite in so many ways, but”—she shrugs—“it was easy because I didn’t have to put in a lot of effort. She was an extrovert so she did most of the talking, planning, socializing, and so on.”
I listen, slowly weaving more of our fingers together. She doesn’t stop me.
“When I went to California and she went to Chicago, it became even more work for her. I didn’t initiate calls because Ijust didn’t think about it. I missed Maya, sure. And it was never a matter of whether I loved her or not, because I did. I really did value our friendship. But I think Maya grew tired of being the only one who was keeping us together. Which is fair. I couldn’t figure out how to navigate things when she wasn’t right in front of me.”
