Whenever it’s shown on social media or on TV that a man like Cole is with a plus size, curvy woman, and doting on her proudly, I applaud it.
Butme?No way.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He stands, walking slowly out my apartment door, and closing it behind him.
I expected him to put up a fight. Maybe even beg me a little, but he gives up almost too quickly. I won't allow myself to dwell on it. Kicking him out was my idea, he's just doing what he's told.
I hurry, turning the locks in place before dragging my feet to the bathroom to wash my once tear-streaked face, and turn in for the night.
I toss and turn, struggling to get comfortable, and when my phone vibrates on my nightstand, I see The Herring Girls chat light up the screen. Text after text rolls through, and I can no longer ignore it.
Lizzie:Never pegged you for a home wrecker, Rogers!
Olive:Neither did I, but kind of dig it.
Cassandra:You both know as well as I do that it’s all lies.
I sit upright.
Me:What are you guys even talking about? And why are you all awake?
Olive:I was just leaving the studio when my phone pinged with an alert from the Grangewood Daily.
Lizzie:Me too.
Lizzie:But I was leaving some guy’s house, not the studio.
Lizzie:I may not be talented musically, but I have the walk of shame down to a science.
Me:I don’t have access to the Grangewood Daily. Send me a screenshot.
And they do. Four of them, to be exact. The headline reads ‘Hollywood’s Newest Heartthrob, Cole Green, busted hand in hand with Celebrity hairstylist, Jenna Rogers’.
My stomach drops.
I flick through and zoom in on the photos attached to the articles, refusing to read the false words attached to it.
He and I sat in the booth with my mom and Mark at Katie’s. The two of us walking hand in hand down Main Street toward my car, looking too loved up to even care. There are pictures of us at the drive in cinema, my head resting on his shoulder, laughing while watching my favorite movie. And the money shot? A close up of me shoving a slice of pizza in my mouth.
My phone vibrates again, and it’s Cole’s name on the screen.
He’s obviously seen the article or he wouldn’t be calling me—he never calls me, but I reject it. I don’t want to hear his voice, or hear him tell me it’ll be fine and he’ll sort it out.
I just had to force myself to kick him out of my apartment before we inevitably had sex.
Sex that no doubt would have been slower and filled with passion, because we’d both be caught up in the moment of the events that transpired tonight. But right now, I want nothing more than the shooting of this stupid movie to be over, so I can go back to living the life I was.
Where falling in love with different men was a monthly occurrence for me.
Men that I would forget about the next day.
But here I am, stuck in a small town for the next few weeks, in love with the man who was supposed to be the love of my life for the night.
Only, I feel like he might be the love of my life, period.
Chapter thirty-nine
Cole
