With a squeeze of her hand, I encourage her to continue. I’m too nervous to say anything, worried that I’ll accidentally fuck this up. Colette Russell is not an outwardly vulnerable person, and it is not lost on me that she’s chosen me to share this with.
“One day we had a really big fight and she said something along the lines of ‘Why can’t you be like a normal person and pick up the phone?’” She sighs heavily at this, and my heart aches for the version of Cole that had to hear her best friend—her only friend—insinuate that she wasn’t normal.
“It got me thinking… maybe I’m not normal. Maybe something is wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you.” My voice is firm, because fuck that.
She gives me a sad smile. “I know that now. But that fight was the catalyst for finally getting my autism diagnosis. I scheduled an appointment with a therapist the next day. To Maya maybe I wasn’t ‘normal,’ but she did help me get a better understanding of myself. Ultimately, I am grateful for that. I love who I am now. I know having autism doesn’t make me abnormal.”
Cole glances down with a shrug. Then, she does a double take as if she’s just realized that our hands are intertwined. She yanks her hand out of my grasp, effectively bursting our intimate bubble.
“It’s okay to be vulnerable, Colette.”
“I know that.” She turns her back to me, adjusting something else on the shelf. “By the way, do you guys need any additional help around the shop? I’m looking for a job.”
That’s one way to derail me. “Looking for a job? What are you talking about? You’re in school. That should be your focus.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” She glares at me. “It’s just that I—” She starts obnoxiously crinkling a roll of packing paper, lowering her voice so I can’t hear the end of her sentence.
My hands firmly grasp both of hers. “Try again.”
With a slump of her shoulders, she admits, “I lost my scholarship.”
“Lost your… did you fail the semester?”
She looks irate. “Fuck no, asshole. They thought it would be a multiyear scholarship but the donor pulled out. I haven’t been working because I had enough saved up but now… I will have to figure something else out.”
Not if I have anything to say about it.
“We can find some shifts for you,” I say instead. “But I will not allow it to interfere with your classes.”
She gives me a mischievous grin, and I realize I’ve stepped closer to her, forcing her head back so she can meet my gaze. “Oh, you won’t allow it? You under the impression that you’re in charge here?”
“I can be.”
My breathing is heavy as Cole lifts onto her toes, her breasts brushing against my chest. She leans in, her breath sending a shiver down my spine as it coasts across my ear. “Fuck. You,” she whispers, before deftly sliding around me and walking out of the closet.
I don’t allow her to get too far before I catch her wrist. The sudden movement sends her careening back into me, her entire body pressed against mine. I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear before leaning down to whisper my own parting blow.
“Thirty-four days, Colette.”
A mistake was made when I allowed myself to be vulnerable in front of Benoit Bardot.
I keep making mistakes with that man, keep allowing him access to me in a way that I’ve never allowed anyone else.
It’s infuriating.
It’s… intoxicating.
It cannot happen again.
Which is why after coming home from Bardot family dinner the other night, I immediately got on my dating app and foundsomeone to go to the Bardot Brothers Coffee Co. grand opening with.
Because things with Ben make sense to me. Well, they used to make sense to me. I had him in this box in my brain labeled “NEMESIS” in all caps. He was tucked onto a shelf with all of the other boxes with labels like “WORK IDIOT” and “GYM GIRL.” Everyone fit nicely inside of their box, and I knew what to expect of them.
Until he fucked it up. He doesn’t feel so nemesis-y anymore, and that’s messing up my boxes. So, naturally, I’m going to do my best to get him firmly back where he belongs. Keep his identity as the high school rival that I was always competing with.
Was I though?
