“You are not cancelling.” Jodi rolls her eyes. “Because I, for one, am not going to let you talk yourself out of this. I know that there’s stuff from before we met that you don’t want to tell me about and I’m okay with that, but I’ve got to be completely honest with you about something.”
She’s clearly waiting on me so I roll my hands. “What?”
“You’re missing out.”
I sigh. “Well, that’s not exactly news to me. I just…” I glance down at the two Skittles left in my hands. “I don’t want to screw with what I’ve got if it’s working just fine.”
“Look, Aimee. From everything you’ve told me so far, going out with Cole is a good thing and you are an idiot if you think otherwise.”
“Then maybe I’m an idiot.”
“It’s going to be okay. Dating is simple because men are very basic. Rule number one is to always keep a guy on his toes. Rule number two is to avoid ordering anything messy like chicken wings or lobster on a first date. Other than that, it’s easy. And don’t stress out about your clothes because all you have to do is wear something that’s either short enough that he can’t stop staring at your legs or dips down low enough that he can’t stop staring at another one of your assets.”
I sneak a peek at my low-profile chest and snort. “Assets?”
Jodi licks the sugar off her hand and keeps going. “Yes, your list of assets is long. In addition to the obvious, I’ve discovered that you listen to really decent music, you’re clever and uninterested in the whole college popularity game, and… well, you know your shit when it comes to Pokémon.”
I never should have let it slip that I still have my collection of Pokémon cards. Jodi keeps finding ways to throw it in my face.
“It’s true that if we stumble across a battle with another trainer, I’ll be ready.”
“See.”
“Hardy-har-har.”
“Aimee, I know that you think I’m just blowing smoke up your ass, but it’s the truth. I see all those things and Cole sees them too. Hell, getting him to take you out before he takes you in is a major coup.”
“Umm… thanks?”
Jodi laughs. “You know what I mean… Cole Everly comes across to the rest of the world as your typical arrogant, athletic ass-monkey. It’s enlightening to discover that he’s not.”
We look at each other in silence for a minute and start cracking up. I don’t even know why we’re both laughing and maybe that’s the best part. We just are. And it’s… it’s new.
I know that I’m not ever going to be able to replace what I had with Jillian, but it feels good to be like this with someone else. And then it dawns on me that even my thoughts are a kind of betrayal. What am I doing? Jillian Kearns isn’t going to hear about my upcoming date. She’s not going to share a bag of Skittles with me or anyone else. She’s gone and she’s never coming back. Ever. Just thinking about “replacing” her is—
A male voice distracts me from the dangerous path my mind is taking. “What’s so funny?”
I turn around and see Kyle standing in the doorway next to the bench that Jodi and I are sitting on. His black hair is spiked up and messy and the sleeves of his t-shirt are ripped, showing off the swirling pattern of colorful tattoos that climb up both of his arms. A long metal chain is attached to the belt loop of his skinny black jeans. To say that this guy intimidates me would be putting it mildly.
“You’re done!” Jodi jumps up, brushes past me so quickly that I can practically smell her lust, and sinks into Kyle’s chest. He stumbles back and laughs.
“I would hug you back, but…” He holds up two cans of diet coke.
Jodi leans away from him and her forehead buckles. “What’s this?”
“Earlier you said that you were thirsty and—”
“But why diet? Are you implying that I’m fat and need to be on a diet or something?” She steps backward. “Oh my God, Kyle. Are you saying that Aimee is fat too? ”
Kyle’s expression changes—his dark eyes go wide and his lips tighten. He looks horrified. “No. I didn’t mean anything by it. I thought that’s what was in your fridge at home so that’s what I got from the machine. Shit. I swear that I think you’re perfect.”
After a handful of tense seconds Jodi breaks into loud laughter. She takes both of the cans away from Kyle and hands one to me. “I’m just fucking with you, babe. This is great. Thanks.”
Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, Kyle grabs her and pulls her back into his body. He loops his long arms around her neck and ducks his face low so that he can whisper something in her ear. Jodi’s so tiny that I can barely see her when she’s all wrapped up like this, but I can hear her laughter and for the first time in a long time, I want it. I want all of it.
“See,” she says, freeing her head from Kyle’s grasp and glancing over at me. “Always keep them on their toes.”
Cole
“So…” I scratch the back of my neck.
She sets down her fork and glances up at me. Her hair is pulled into a loose braid that drips over her right shoulder. She’s wearing a light blue dress. She’s got on silver earrings that dangle against her jaw when she moves her head. If she tilts just right, I can see the silky strap of her bra peeking out from under the dress. It’s pink and for the past hour I’ve been wondering if she’s one of those girls who does the whole matching bra and underwear thing.
“So…” she parrots back.
Maybe I shouldn’t have worn a suit. It’s so fucking uncomfortable and hot. If there’s a hell, I’m guessing that the fucktards that end up there have to wear suits.
I clear my throat and wipe my mouth with the starch white linen napkin from my lap. “Uh—how’s your food?”
Aimee looks at me for a long time. Her lips twitch and my stomach clenches tight. She moves her eyes over to where our waiter is stationed against the wall. When she speaks, her voice comes out as a low whisper that only I can hear. “Is it me, or is this really awkward?”
I think about the question.
Shifting in my straight back chair, I look around the ridiculously fancy waterfront restaurant with the white tablecloths and the crystal water glasses and the extra forks that I have no idea what to do with. There’s a gaudy chandelier dropping from the ceiling above us and the walls are draped in heavy fabric the color of dried-up blood. The sound that’s filtering in through hidden speakers can only be described as a hybrid between elevator music and a funeral dirge.
I’m trying too hard. I squint and feel my mouth creeping up. “Maybe a little?”
Aimee lets out a held breath and half-smiles. It’s one of my favorite smiles. “Okay,” she says like she’s deciding something. “I thought it was just me and I was starting to get a little panicked. Cole, I seriously think that we’re the youngest people here by at least fifteen years.”
She’s probably right. The guy at the table next to me has been messing with his dentures since the hostess walked us over here. “It’s Florida. Everyone is old.”
Aimee’s eyes widen. “Not like this. This is geriatric.”
Shit. I feel sweat beading at my hairline and I push my hands back through my hair, pulling on the ends. It’s not like it should come as a surprise that she’s having a terrible time. I haven’t taken a girl on a date in… well… ever. It was almost a given that I was going to fuck it up colossally. “I thought that this is the kind of thing that all girls want. You know—the nice restaurant near the water and the debonair guy in the suit,” I gesture to my tie.
“The debonair guy—yes. The other stuff?”
I don’t reply right away and Aimee’s brow creases. Her fingers wrap around the edge of the table. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “Was it bad for me to say something? I just wanted you to know that you didn’t have to go all out. I would have been fine with Skee-Ball and a corndog.”
I cock my head to the side. “You can’t play Skee-Ball worth a shit. Remember?”
“I don’t think
you’re allowed to say ‘shit’ in a place like this, Cole. The waiter is in a tux.”
“You’re probably right,” I agree, easing back into my seat. “So the restaurant was a stupid choice. Does this mean that you’re having an awful time? I’m hoping that dates are like everything else and they get better with practice.”
“I’m not having an awful time.” Her voice is soft but strong and it unglues me instantly. She gnaws on her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean what I said in the way that you’re thinking. I just don’t want us to pretend to be something that we’re not, you know? I faked my way through all of last year. It’s not… it’s not good and I’m trying to be done with all of the fake crap because I know that eventually it catches up to you.”
Her expression is fractured and I get the sense that her words are hinting at something else. She’s allowing me a rare peek inside, but I don’t want it right now. Not in this stuffy-ass restaurant.
“Got it,” I say lightly, rubbing my finger over the bump in my nose. “No fakeness and you’re not into the flowers and romance stuff.”
“Well, I don’t remember saying that I wasn’t into flowers…”
I chuckle and let my body relax. “Okay. I can work with this. Flowers you like. Corndogs and donuts you like.”
“All true. Did I tell you that there’s this famous donut place out in Portland called Voodoo that makes a maple syrup donut topped with bacon?”
“That sounds disgusting.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“Fair enough.” I arch my shoulders. “In addition to flowers and bacon-flavored donuts, I’ve peeked at your kindle so I know that you like books and Harry Potter in particular. Even though I’ve never read the books or seen any of the movies, I think—”
Aimee interrupts me. “You’re kidding me, right? You, of all people, haven’t seen the Harry Potter movies?”
I shake my head, enjoying the look on her face. “I know the basic plot and it didn’t really seem like my thing.”
“Didn’t seem like your thing? It’s Harry Potter! Did you grow up under a rock or something?”
I chuckle. “Turnaround is fair play so maybe we can watch them sometime.”
“Well, I think you should read the books first, but that’s just my humble opinion. Though I should warn you about something.” She places her elbows on the table and that pink bra strap winks at me. I can feel blood drumming in my ears, sliding down through my body. Maybe this date isn’t fucked after all. “I have this theory that the world is broken up into two kinds of people.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep. On the one side are the people who love the Harry Potter books and wish that they could attend Hogwarts and have Ron and Hermione for best friends and vanquish Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
She’s smiling at me, and she’s just so fucking cute. I have to ask: “And the other side?”
Aimee shrugs. “Douchebags.”
I pretend to be shocked. Then I toss her own words back at her with a smirk. “I don’t think you can say the word ‘douchebag’ in here. I’m not sure if you noticed this or not, but the waiter over there is wearing a tux.”
“Oh really?” She scrunches up her nose and I get the sudden, nearly irresistible urge to reach across the table and yank her onto my lap.
“Yes, really.” I take a deep breath and pick up the crystal water glass in front of me. “So, what the hell is a Death Eater?”
Aimee’s eyebrows pull inward. “A supporter of Lord Voldemort. Basically, that means someone who is intent upon purifying the wizarding world of all muggles.”
“What’s a mu—You know what? Never mind.” I circle the rim of my water glass with my thumb. “So far, we’ve established that you’re a fan of donuts, flowers, corndogs, Harry Potter. And I know that you’re into artsy—fartsy music…
“Hey! I listen to good music,” she defends.
I smile so that she knows that I’m teasing her. Even though I’ve never heard of most of the obscure indie bands that Aimee plays, I’ve reluctantly accepted that they aren’t terrible. “Okaaaay… You listen to good music and enjoy singing along in the shower.”
Aimee frowns warily. “How in the world do you know that I sing in the shower?”
My chest rumbles in amusement. “I didn’t. It was just a random guess, but thanks so much for confirming it.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flush pink.
“What else?”
She thinks. “Scrabble.”
“You like playing Scrabble?” I mentally record the information for a later date.
“I do.”
“Okay. Scrabble, donuts, flowers, corndogs, pre-pubescent British wizards, and indie music. Am I missing anything important?”
She’s still blushing and it’s like the heat in her face is trapping all the words inside of her. “What is it?” I ask, an involuntary grin tugging on my mouth. I love it when she blushes like this.
Aimee sighs, looks up toward the chandelier. “You, Cole. I like you.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I think my mouth actually drops open.
I’m fucking sunk.
Aimee
Cole’s gaze is locked onto mine and his jaw is hanging loose. I think what he’s doing is commonly called gaping.
It’s obvious that he can’t believe my bluntness. Well, I guess he can join the club because I can’t believe it either.
“I’m sorry. That was insanely cheesy,” I say, trying to cover my red face with my hands.
Right now would be the perfect time to slink out of my seat to the floor so that I can hide my embarrassment under the corners of the stiff white tablecloth. Saliva builds on the roof of my mouth and I swallow it down. God. Cole’s eyes are so raw with emotion that I’m starting to feel lightheaded. I trace the woven sections of my braid with two of my fingers. “So… do you want to, um, get dessert or something?” I ask haltingly.
Cole doesn’t answer me. With fire flashing in his green eyes, he stands up from his chair and reaches for my arm, dragging his hand along my skin from the elbow to the base of my palm. Instinctively, I grip his fingers and let him pull me past the mess of elegant tables and diners. We don’t pause at the hostess station or in the waiting area.
A warm rush of humid air breaks over my skin as Cole pushes through the main door of the restaurant. I follow—tripping over my feet, my out of control heart thudding loudly in my ears—as we move past a wall covered in a thick curtain of dark creeping jasmine, to a secluded nook. To one side of us, there’s a small koi pond the color of the coppery pennies that line the bottom of it. On the other, I make out a Mediterranean style archway that leads down to the boat docks. Breathing harshly through his nose, mouth set in a grim line, Cole pulls me to an abrupt stop just under the rise of the arch. He lifts his solid arms, effectively caging me between himself and the cool stucco pier at my back.
“What are you doing?” I ask delicately, a nervous energy swirling in the pit of my stomach.
The trickling light catches on the surface of his eyes as he leans in and brushes his lips just under my jawline. My eyelids fall involuntarily and the breath is expelled from my lungs all at once. Still gingerly exploring my throat with his mouth, Cole’s strong hands find my waist and he anchors his thumbs just below my navel, fanning his fingers out across the small of my back. I grip his forearms and push back, flattening my shoulders to the solid surface of the pier as I absorb the sensations ripping through my body. Slowly, like it hurts to push the sound off of his tongue, he whispers into the crook of my neck, “Aimee…”
Seconds tumble away from me. They slip from my fingers like rain on clean glass and I am falling with the drops—no definite direction. Cole squeezes my hips and crushes his body closer to mine so that I can feel the hard lines of him through the thin fabric of my dress.
“Cole,” I manage in between gasps. “What are we doing out here? My purse is still back at the table.”
“Fuck!” He moans rue
fully, tearing himself away and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I can’t control myself around you.”
Not knowing how to respond, I drop my eyes to my silver sandals and spread my palms on the wall for balance.
“We’ll go back inside for your purse and we can get dessert or we can leave if you want to, but first I needed to get you out of there because…” his voice is gruff. “I couldn’t stand to not touch you. Please look at me, Aimee.”
Too overwhelmed, I shake my head and keep my eyes trained on my toes. “I can’t…”
“Please.” His hands return to my waist.
Neither one of us speaks or dares to breathe. I know without looking that beyond the archway, the moon is coming out—spilling its reflected light across the dusky sky, lingering on the silhouettes of palm trees and the outline of the single-story buildings across the street. I know that Cole is watching me, waiting with heady intensity for me to do something, anything. The wind changes direction, brushing the tiny hairs on my arms, fluttering the hem of my blue cotton dress around my legs.
I swallow and set my jaw. I think that I’m shaking a little. As soon as my eyes flick up to meet his, a current of energy buzzes from my breasts down to my thighs. Cole’s fingers knot together, digging into my back as he bends his head to kiss me. It’s a kiss so deep and hungry that it drenches me—soaking every pore of my body, weighing me down, making me go soft in the knees.
He doesn’t stop there. He separates my lips and traces the roof of my mouth with his warm, slick tongue and glides the tip across the back of my teeth. He tastes me like this—greedily sliding into me and drawing my body nearer—until my legs are tucked between his hips and I can’t tell which one of us is holding the other up.
I slip my hands inside the lapel of his jacket and run my fingers up over the taut muscles of his chest, feeling for his heartbeat through his shirt. When I find it, I flatten my palm over the spot as if I can hold the beats inside of him with just my hand. For a few tangled moments, I am nothing but heat and taste and smell and touch.