Chapter Five: My Life, A Congregation of Life’s Cruelest Clichés
My eyes take in the gleaming surfaces of the penthouse, and I think that this definitely isn’t your typical rite-of-passage road trip. We’re supposed to be staying in dingy motels, driving for days, and staying alive on dubious roadside diner food. If you ask me, that’s what I would have preferred, but instead I find myself in an apartment that takes up the entire fifteenth floor of the impressive and opulent building on the Upper West Side. It figures, though, that this is where my friends and I’ll be staying for a couple of days since my dad took it upon himself to make the arrangements. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find more destitute surroundings on our next stop.
“Whose place did you say this was?” Cole asks as he takes a look around.
“Whoever’s it is, I’m sending them a thank-you basket. Have you guys seen the size of the hot tub?” Beth walks out of the room she and I will be sharing, grinning like an idiot. She’s been dying to get me alone ever since Cole and I got here, which would be about an hour later than them, because we stayed out and just walked around the city before driving back to the apartment.
“He’s a friend of my dad’s, and he and his family are touring Europe, so they won’t be back for a while.” I answer Cole’s question and then narrow my eyes at my best friend, who’s still looking at me smugly. Maybe it’s because Cole’s standing so close to me and I’m not running away from him a mile a minute.
“Dude, have you checked out—”
Alex and Megan walk out from their shared room and Cole dryly completes his sentence. “—the hot tub? I already heard.”
I wonder why everyone’s so excited about a hot tub in the middle of summer. It’s a hot tub, ergo, meant for the colder months. If I didn’t know any better…
“We’ve got to try it tonight; don’t worry, Tessa, I packed your bikini,” Beth says in a singsong voice before disappearing into our room. Lucky for her, I don’t instantly go after her with a butcher knife, because Cole started choking the minute she said bikini. She couldn’t be more obvious about what she’s trying to do if she held out the wedding rings right this moment. We need to have a talk; I glare at her retreating back.
“So,” I enthusiastically clasp my hands together facing Cole, who seems to have calmed down a bit. “What do you guys want to do first?” I start rattling off a bunch of options, but everyone’s in the mood to shower, eat, and then go out. So, we agree and retreat to our rooms. Beth’s on the phone with Travis and lost in her own world. Thinking about Travis confuses me, especially after the revelation in the car. I don’t know if I should be angry at him for hiding something so important, or grateful that he saved Cole’s life. Whichever it is, I’ll need to talk to him soon.
***
Showering helps put my feelings into perspective. The car ride helped us make progress and cleared a lot of misunderstandings but we’re still so uncertain. Sometimes when you have a history of the most important people in your life backstabbing you, trust becomes a novelty. I know that I need to man up and deal with the fact that Cole made a mistake. Something may or may not have happened with Erica, but he did put himself in a compromising position, and he’s sorry enough about that. I’ve been as cruel as I could and did my best to resist what we have, but sometimes you can’t fight enough.
The girls and I help each other find outfits since it’s going to get dark outside soon, and everyone plans on finding a club where they’ll believe that I’m twenty-one. I’m guessing it’ll be easier to find Ryan Gosling wandering the streets shirtless, looking for a rebound. Though you never can tell with this city; anything’s possible.
This might explain why Megan and Beth are trying to stuff my body into a handkerchief; at least that’s what I think it is by the look of it. They like to call it a little black dress; I agreed to disagree. If it takes me dressing like a hooker to finally get my friends to have some fun, then so be it. God knows, I’ve done nothing but be a depressed and emotional time bomb the last month and a half. My skin is buffed, polished, and plucked. Fake tanners and my legs have come to be on a first-name basis, along with our new best friend, the bronzer. Beth does my makeup eerily similar to her own, going heavy on the eyeliner and eye shadow. My hair is curled and left in big, bouncy waves, falling over my shoulders. I’ve managed to stuff my feet into a pair of Beth’s spiky black high heels and begin to wobble around the room.
Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I acknowledge the effort my friends have made. Cliché as it sounds, I hardly recognize the girl staring back at me. She looks…different, to say the least, prettier. Vain as it sounds, I like the way I look after being tweaked. There’s a certain kind of confidence that comes with this look. I’ve always been someone who’s never quite been comfortable in her own skin, but the material changes finally make me feel like I could be someone who a guy like Cole could be with for the long haul.
And someone who doesn’t lose out to people like Erica.
It’s a petty thought, but, hey, if I look like it, then I have to act the part—bring on Diva Tessa.
“So? What’s the verdict?” Beth asks as she’s trying to tie up her combat boots. She’s wearing a tight, red bodycon dress and carrying it with a confidence that is quite foreign to me. Her apprehension gives way to a relieved and satisfied smile when she catches the awestruck look on my face. She knows she’s done it; she’s given me some of my confidence back. It’s what I need for a night out with Cole. Who knew I’d fit the cliché, give a girl the right shoes and she can rule the world? Then again, sometimes it feels like one could call my life a congregation of life’s cruelest clichés.
If the alliteration fits…
“Cole definitely isn’t prepared for what’s about to hit him.” Megan grins smugly as she curls her own hair. She’s come around and strongly back to cheerleading for Team Cole. I think Alex had a lot to do with it, but she’s definitely been more supportive, and I could use that in truckloads.
We walk out of the room to a gawking Alex. His lips part and mouth hangs open as he takes us in, in all our club-attire glory. But when his eyes come to rest on Megan, we know there’s no looking away. She’s rocking her skintight jeans and cropped silk camisole. I look around for any sign of Cole but am horribly disappointed when I see a Post-it Note stuck to the fridge. It’s his handwriting, and when I get closer, the now extremely offensive piece of yellow paper is telling me that Cole will meet us at the club. Apparently, he has to see some friends who were seemingly more important than spending time with the rest of us.
I try to ignore the hurt and laugh at the rather anticlimactic end to my efforts to blow my sort-of-boyfriend’s mind. Now that I think about it, it does put the feminist movement to shame. Dressing up for my man? What decade is this, the 1950s?
Scoffing, I pull myself back together and turn to Beth, who’s chewing her lip nervously over my shoulder.
“So how drunk are we going to get tonight?”
***
We end up at a club called Nova where Alex’s cousin works. It’s convenient enough because we get to skip the line and no asks us for IDs. Inside, it’s exactly like what one would expect a club to look like. What’s glaringly obvious is that we’re not in a small town anymore. The girls and I sit in the bar section of the club, which has a direct view of the dance floor, and order our drinks. I let Beth make that decision since some cheap beer and wine is the extent of my alcohol knowledge and consumption. Honestly, she could possibly kill me from alcohol poisoning and I wouldn’t really know that it’s happening. In fact, I rather like the idea of some good old tequila, or maybe some vodka; whisky has a nice ring to it, too, and I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of scotch. I’m distracted, and it’s annoying. I want to get lost in the music, dance with my girlfriends, get drunk and wake up with the hangover from hell, but I can’t. My eyes are glued to the entrance.
Where is he?
Weren’t we supposed to be using this time to move past our problems and get closer, to try to solve our problems and put them behind us? So, then where is he, and what’s so important that he would bail on me like this?
Knocking back the burning, bitter liquid in my glass like a seasoned pro, I grab my friends’ hands and drag them to the dance floor. The music is loud, reverberating through me and breaking through the hurt and the apprehension. I love the song that’s playing, and it gets easy to lose myself in it and let my body take over. We laugh and move our hips, pretending to be seductresses but ending up cracking up, making people roll their eyes in our direction. After a few songs, Alex comes up to Megan, and we lose them to the crowd. Beth and I go to the bathroom to freshen up, and when she gets back, she drunk-dials my brother, against my better judgment. Travis is smart enough not to be expecting us to paint fingernails or be braiding each other’s hair at midnight, but he also isn’t going to be particularly pleased by the fact that his little sister and his girlfriend are, well…busy getting sloshed.
I shrug and let her go to her death, returning to the floor. Travis can be handled in the morning, and you don’t just let a Beyoncé song go by without dancing. Pretty soon I’m lost in a world of my own, eyes closed and thoughts of a dark-haired boy shoved into the darkest corners of my mind. I feel the constant heat of bodies behind me. Strangers dancing nearby but not quite crossing the invisible boundaries that define club etiquette. But then, after a while, there are strong hands at my waist, pulling me back, and the feel of someone rocking their hips against mine. In my inebriated state, it feels nice. His hands never stray, just gripping my sides firmly, and there’s no grinding. We just roll our hips in synchronization, and it’s completely innocent.
I don’t feel the urge to see the man’s face because as long as I don’t, I can pretend he’s anyone I want him to be. Besides, it feels good to be noticed, to have someone pay you that kind of attention and give you such closeness. Everything doesn’t feel like a wasted opportunity right now.
“Get your hands off her.” The warning uttered in a low, threatening voice forces me to open my eyes and push aside the encompassing drunken haze. Goose bumps break out over my skin, and the hair at the back of my neck stands up. He’s here. God, he’s here, and he’s pissed off. He made me wait for him for hours, and now, when I’m a sweaty mess, with my makeup melting beneath the lights and my legs sore from dancing in high heels, he has the nerve to show up and be angry.
“What’s your problem, man?” The shaggy-haired blond guy I’ve been dancing with asks Cole. And yes, that’s exactly what I want to know, too. I turn toward Cole, who is standing there in a plain gray T-shirt and jeans, looking all brooding and sexy.
“Yeah, what’s your problem, man?”
I emphasize my point by poking his chest repeatedly. He doesn’t acknowledge my question but simply narrows his eyes at me. He then steps toward my new friend a bit threateningly and subjects him to a look so fierce that it would have reduced lesser and, well, relatively not as drunk, men to puddles on the floor.
“My problem is that you had your hands all over my girl, and if you don’t step away from her in five seconds, I’m going to have bigger problems.”
The poor guy’s eyes widen, and his Adam’s apple bobs nervously as he takes in Cole, who is both heavier and taller than him. He then looks at me and must decide that I’m probably not worth the hospital trip, since he scurries away from me faster than I can feel the insult.
But now I’m mad.
Who the hell does Cole think he is? How dare he go all alpha male on me when he’s the one who hurt me? Again.
“You didn’t have to do that!” I glower at him and he clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. He’s got that look about him, the one that tells me that he might have been drinking. He isn’t drunk yet but is on the verge of it. His senses have dulled enough, and his emotions are heightened, but he’s aware of them, of everything.
“What?” He scowls at me. “Was I interrupting something? I sat there and watched that fucker grope you. And I let him do it. I let him do it, because I thought that that’s what I deserved. I deserved watching another guy’s hands all over you, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let that happen.”
People are watching us. I can feel their weighty glances, but at this point, I can’t be bothered to care. This is the most passion and honesty I’ve had from Cole for a long time. He’s so busy treating me with kid gloves that he’s forgotten that I want this from him, too, this raw and brutal vulnerability.
“That’s not what you deserve,” I tell him softly. “Why would you do that? Why did you let me pretend that the random stranger I was dancing with was you? Because that’s all I wanted; I wanted you here with me. Not him, just you.”
His eyes become glassy and then his gaze heats up, warming me to my core. He yanks at my wrist, drawing me away from the pulsating crowd. I catch the worried glances of our friends and give them a reassuring smile. Cole doesn’t scare me; when I’m with him, I’m the safest I’ve ever been.
He’s on a one-man mission to get us alone, and I can sense his urgency. So, when he pushes me against the wall of an empty corridor, I’m prepared. He leans against me, pressing his forehead to mine.
“You make me crazy,” he breathes.
“Ditto.”
His lip twitches and his mouth curves into a smile. “I would say I’m sorry for acting like a jackass out there, but I won’t.”
“And I should be mad at you for being such a caveman, but I’m not.”
“It turned you on, didn’t it?” He grins, and it’s scary how easily and effortlessly we go back to being us. The questions still linger at the back of my mind, but I now know that there’s a good enough explanation for everything. I don’t doubt him like I would have; the world isn’t crashing down around me. We’re just…us.
“Shut up!” I laugh and smack his shoulder.
“It did, didn’t it?” he says, sounding smug and way too happy teasing me.
I huff out loudly, “Even if it did, you just ruined the moment.” I pretend to be annoyed.
“Oh yeah? We’re going to have to fix that, then.” The heated gaze is back, and my breath hitches.
“Oh My…”
He brings up his hands to my face, his fingers trailing over every feature. My lips, nose, eyes, chin, and even the sensitive spot behind my ear burn where his fingers trail. His touch lingers, almost worshipping. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes, and my eyes close on their own accord, a contented sigh escaping me.
“Me, too,” I breathe as he drags his knuckles down my neck, over my collarbone, and nearly down the front of my dress.
“I like the dress,” he whispers in my ear, and I gasp as his teeth lightly scrape against the skin of my throat. “But so did every other guy out there. I wanted to kill them all.” He continues driving me crazy with his gentle ministrations.
“You’re feeling particularly murderous tonight.” I feel him smile against the crook of my neck.
“It’s all your fault; apparently, you like the idea of me in prison.” He nuzzles his nose against me.
“I…I don’t.” Honestly, I’ve lost my train of thought; who could blame me? When Cole Stone’s doing such magical things to you, coherence or presence of mind isn’t really much of an issue.
He kisses all over my face and I’m lost, utterly and completely lost to him and what he’s doing to me.
“Tessa?” he rasps as he moves my hair to one side, exposing my bare shoulder and then kissing it.
“Hmm?” I mutter distractedly. He needs to talk less and do more of whatever he’s doing.
“Can I take you home? Because we need to talk, and I don’t know if I can…I’m losing any semblance of control here, and I’d rather not do this in the dirty doorway of a club.”
Whoa.
What do you say to that?
I have questions, a lot of them. We do need to talk about a lot of things, and he’s still being a bit evasive, but we have all the time in the world. Right now, though, I pull away, only to nod once, and then it’s all a frantic rush to just be alone. To be Cole and Tessa, and, if it were possible to die from anticipation, then I would.