Chapter Three

Vienna

Oh. My. God.

I can be whatever you want me to be.

Between the intense electricity that ran like a livewire through his fingertips, and his hot breath on my face as he spoke such seductive, suggestive words, I couldn’t have stood up from my chair if I’d wanted to. My legs would have given out.

Nothing’s changed, my body screamed. The sound of his voice still made fire ignite inside me, and a liquid heat pool in my belly. The touch of his hand on my bare skin threatened to undo me, and my every pore resonated with the desperate need to feel him, long after he’d pulled away.

Everything’s changed, my brain shot back. He hurt me, and he humiliated me, and I’d had no choice but to move on.

Except, I didn’t. And it sure didn’t sound like Cohen had either.

Which left me here, hanging in the balance, with a mind full of rational thoughts that told me to steer clear of anything having to do with him, and a body that begged for him to touch me again.

I don’t know how, but I managed to make a little leeway once my computer restarted and began to do what it was supposed to. I know, I know; the problem wasn’t the machine, it was the operator. But I’d never been good with technology, always preferring the old-fashioned pen and paper to a keyboard and monitor.

The bell rang, shrill against the surprisingly quiet computer lab, with only the muted mumbling of students working on their assignments.

I was shocked that class was over, and even more so that I’d been enjoying myself, puttering with the different options the program allowed me. Losing track of time didn’t mean I didn’t understand the importance of getting away from Cohen as quickly as I could, though.

“Same time on Friday, everyone. I’ll email the next assignment so you’ll be able to look over it ahead of time,” Cohen announced. “Good job today.”

Email. What a luxury, I thought wryly as I made my way out of the room and headed toward the exit doors. I’d have to borrow my parents’ computer to check it, or else head to the library and borrow their internet connection. I’d removed the data plan from my phone after moving back to Garrison, unable to afford it.

“Vienna!”

“Don’t do this,” I muttered. But I turned around at the sound of his voice anyway, setting my mouth in a hard line. “What, Cohen?”

He was jogging up the hall to catch up to me. “I want the chance to talk to you,” he said in one breath.

“You are.”

“Vienna,” he exhaled, exasperated. “You know what I mean. Please.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I beg to differ,” he replied. “And if I’m right, so do you.”

In typical Cohen Bradley fashion, there he was just assuming he knew what I was thinking.

He might be right, but that was besides the point.

“Still smug, I see. And narcissistic to boot.”

“Hardly,” he said dryly. “You know I’m not like that, so please, stop trying to make yourself believe you never cared about me.”

My mouth twitched. “What I believe is that you never cared about me. Better get that straight,” I snapped.

“I did care about you!” Cohen exclaimed, his eyes shifting down the hall when his voice came out louder than he obviously meant it to. “I still do! And you damn well know it!”

“Stay away from me, Cohen.” I turned on my heel and headed for the doors that led to the parking lot.

“I just want to talk, Vi!”

I rounded on him. “Vi-en-na. Vi is reserved for people who didn’t shatter my heart.” I glared at him, my eyes cold as steel. “And I don’t want to talk to you, Cohen.”

Talking is at the bottom of the list of things I want to do with you.

“Then just listen. I’ll talk.”

“Go away.”

The heels of my boots echoed in the hallway as I strode to the doors and pushed them open, a gust of wind meeting my face in a violent whoosh. My chest heaved with a rising sense of panic as I counted the steps I took toward my car, trying to calm myself a bit. It took three attempts to unlock the car, having accidentally continued to press the lock button on the keyring the first two times instead.

I was flustered, flushed, and felt like I was two shallow breaths away from suffering a heart attack.

That’s when I turned the key in the ignition, met with only a steady tick, tick, tick sound.

I tried again. Tick, tick, tick.

My gosh darn car wouldn’t start.

Tears prickled at my eyes, and I slammed my fists down hard on the steering wheel. “Come on!” I cried out, slumping forward to rest my forehead against the wheel.

A tap on the window made my head snap back up, my eyes wide.

Come on! My mind screamed again, but I opened the door up anyway, unable to roll the power window down.

“Everything okay?” Cohen asked, his gaze flickering to the key in the ignition and the distress he could undoubtedly see on my face.

“Car won’t start.” There was no use denying it.

He ducked his head inside the car, making me lean back against the seat in an attempt to avoid touching him. “What’s it doing?” He turned the key himself, listened to a couple rounds of the ticking sound, and pulled away, leaning against the driver’s door. “It’s just the battery. You got booster cables in the trunk?”

I narrowed my eyes, giving him a look that could kill.

Which was much to his amusement, according to the smirk on his face. “Right. Still not much for vehicles, huh?”

“I drive ‘em, someone else fixes ‘em.”

“You should still have booster cables. Then I could fix it, by boosting it with my own vehicle.” He nodded his head toward a dark-colored SUV across the almost empty parking lot, but the sun had long since disappeared behind the trees, making it difficult to discern what color it actually was.

“Dually noted,” I snapped through clenched teeth.

“It’s all right.” He thumped his hand on the hood. “Lock it up and I’ll drive you back into Garrison.”

“Wait, you don’t have booster cables?”

“I like to live on the edge, too,” he joked, shrugging. “I do, but they’re in my truck.”

“Oh geez, you’re one of those people.” I let my head fall back onto the headrest, pressing my palms into my eye sockets.

“One of what people?”

I lowered my hands, looking him straight in the eye. “One that drives a respectable SUV all week, pretending to care about fuel economy and air pollution, then trades it in for a jacked-up diesel truck on the weekend, pretending to be nineteen again.”

Cohen was too busy laughing to respond right away. “Well, shit. Maybe I am one of those people.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll bet you sit in the front pew at church on Sunday, too, just so you can repent the reckless driving and immature shenanigans, too, huh?”

A slow grin spread across his face, full of mischief as he leaned in close to me. “Play your cards right, and those won’t be the only sins we’re repenting come Sunday morning, Vi-en-na.” His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, suppressing more laughter. But there was no mistaking the devious glint in his eyes. “Now, do me a favor and go get in my SUV, will you? Otherwise, this is going to take all night, and frankly, I have other plans.”