by Maria Xystra
“You’re such an ass!” I slap his arm. “You’re playing with me? Had me believing we slept together!!”
“Oh, trust me Lex, if we’ve had sex, no matter how drunk you were, you’d definitely remember it. And we wouldn’t be here talking about it.”
“Oh, is that so? Are you telling me that I came to your bedroom, got undressed and begged- did I even beg you or are you making this up too?”
“No, no, that you did.”
“And…you just…did nothing? You just took me to my room and tucked me in?” He nods in confirmation. “Should I take that as an insult or something?”
“Are you serious?!? One minute you’re all riled up about watching you undress and the next you’re offended I didn’t take advantage of you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!” I start defending myself with really nothing to say.
“What are you saying?” he gets frustrated.
“I don’t know! Not that!” I shout back.
“You’re crazy!”
“You’re crazy!” I shoot back.
“Do you ever?” he skips the ‘stop’ part.
“I never!”
“Are you hungry?” he keeps the same tone.
“Maybe!” I scream.
“Want a sandwich?” he shouts.
“Yes!” I shout back.
CHAPTER 32
Slumping on the couch, I let go of a loud sigh. I can’t believe how empty the space seems without Cole around. It’s merely been a few hours since he packed his stuff and went back to his place. Cleaning up the guest room brought back a few memories from last night. I can now recall bits and pieces from my late visit to his room –and let’s not forget the stripping. And I have to admit, he was right. I did beg.
His scent still lingers all around the apartment. And woods, and spices, and amber and leatherrrr. Oh, my God. That sounded in my head like a cheering, sing-along tune. Please let it be my imagination.
Sam ditched me for Eric, just like Hans ditched me for Charles. A flash of me and Sam imitating his British accent comes to mind from when we were at the club and I smile to myself.
I struggle to sit up and reach for my phone when I hear the message ‘ping’.
‘My place. Now.’
I double check the name of the sender: Cole Theron.
I shoot up and try to call him but get no answer.
For a minute, I consider changing my dress to jeans and a tee but decide against it and ten minutes later I knock on his door.
He greets me with a calm and sort of mischievous smile.
“Come in.”
“What’s wrong? Are you OK?” I ask him quickly.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, come on in,” he repeats and taking me by the hand he leads me inside.
“I thought something happened. What’s all this?” I take in the fact that he’s cooking dinner.
“Oh, nothing happened. I just wanted you to come over.”
“What for?”
“For a thank you-dinner. You’ve been taking care of me for the past few days, I take it it’s only fair to say a proper thank you. And no, I couldn’t just say that in my text, ’cause if I did, you would’ve found an excuse to refuse the invitation.”
Stunned by the truth in his words, I follow him to the kitchen.
“You know, you didn’t have to do all this-”
“I did have to. But I’m only doing it because I want to. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
He moves around the kitchen in the process of preparing the meal and taking note of his white t-shirt, I catch myself replaying the ‘Zesty’ commercial with Cole as the lead.
“I was just at the right place, at the right time,” I automatically respond for the gazillionth time. “Besides,” I take the glass of wine he offers me, “you would’ve done the same for me.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you realize that you practically saved me the other night.”
I give him a content smile and take a sip from my drink.
“Since when do you own a white t-shirt?” I can’t help but point that out.
“Since when do you own a dress?” he shoots back, grinning.
His phone starts ringing, and he immediately slips into serious mode.
“What is it?” he answers turning his back at me.
His body gets significantly tensed, a change I can easily notice.
“…he didn’t?” he pushes his hand through his hair.
I cautiously keep my eyes on my wine and without really trying, I can tell the person on the other end of the phone is Vincent.
Letting go of an exasperated sigh, he turns the oven off. “No, it’s fine, I’ll go. Where’s the stuff?”
While he waits for an answer, I try hard to make sense of what’s going on. Whatever it is, it’s something that apparently wasn’t in his plans and being Cole, it surely bugs him to have to rearrange.
He lets go of another sigh and turns to me.
“I need to take care of something,” he informs me.
“Oh…OK,” I place my glass on the island as he grabs his keys and heads for the door. I take a moment, not sure what he wants me to do.
“Come on, it won’t take long,” he holds the door open, waiting for me to join him.
“Oh! I’m coming with?” I hesitantly ask him.
“Yeah, of course. Dinner can wait, but this can’t.”
“And what exactly is this?” I ask while he urges me towards the elevator.
“Dude!” he answers his phone again. “You had three days to take the stuff there and waited until the last minute! As always!”
I keep my distance, uncomfortably looking around in the elevator.
“No- I don’t care what happened, all this stuff should’ve been there by now and it’s not!” he gets riled up and his hand movements are evidence of his frustration. “You had one job…one job… Look, man, I gotta know if I can count on you! If they can count on you…Well, you bet your sorry ass it won’t happen again! And I expect you to be there tomorrow, Wheels, all day, from dawn ‘till the sun goes down!” he shouts at the receiver and hangs up.
“Sooo,” I hesitate for a minute, “…could I also know where we’re going?”
“You’ll see,” he keeps it a mystery.
We pass through the bar and while I wait for him, he loads ‘the stuff’ into the car. I have to admit, it kinda looks like Santa Claus might be missing a few bags this year.
*****
After a short drive, we wind up a private road near the town limits. The small premises remind me of a school, with football and basketball fields and what looks like a playground further down. I reconsider my initial assumption that the ‘stuff’ we’re carrying in the trunk consists of guns and spyware.
Just as we reach the parking lot, a small mob interrupts their games and points at the car. In less than a second, a wave of youngsters race towards us. The minute Cole sets his foot on the ground, the over-excited midgets attack him.
“Whoa! Hey, guys! It’s nice to see you, too!” he greets them as I sneak around the car and grin at the scene unfolding in front of me. I would have never believed Cole is a kids’ favorite if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Up until now, I had a pretty clear picture of Cole as a business man, the boss of his gang, a playboy…but now… Cole here is someone else… The kids look at him in pure worship, he’s like the superhero they wish to be. The big brother they look up to.
“Are you Cole’s girlfriend?” a high-pitched voice demands, while tucking at my dress to get my attention. I turn to meet a pair of bright blue eyes travelling from my face to my feet and back up again. The girl’s blonde curls bounce with the slightest motion she makes and she stares at me, waiting for an answer. “I’m Carla, whatcha name? Are you Cole’s girlfriend?” she repeats.
I instinctively search Cole’s face for any indication but he’s too preoccupied with his audience, I’m left alone with my interrogator.
“Oh,” she sulks at my answer, looking kind of disappointed. “Cole hasn’t got any girl friends. You must be really special for him to bring you here,” she declares with pure innocence.
“How old are you, sweetie?”
“I’m nine and I’m the oldest!” she hurries to add.
“The oldest of…?”
“The oldest of the three of us!” she points at two blonde boys who simultaneously climb over Cole. He carries them, one on each arm, towards the back of the car.
“You’re triplets?” I ask in amazement and we join the rest to help unload the trunk.
Cole orders the kids – who are all pretty much around Carla’s age – to queue up. I barely get a nod from her as she runs to get in line. Cole gestures for me to join him and as he gives a bag to each kid, he introduces me.
“I see you’ve already met Curls,” he shuffles Carla’s hair. “Everyone this is Lexy, and this,” he passes a bag, “is Justin.”
“Hi, Lexy!” one of the triplets says with a lisp. I giggle and greet him back.
“Sean,” Cole gives another bag to the other sibling. He, too, lisps and Cole gives him a warning look. “They’re faking the lisp,” he informs me.
“Tattletale!” both boys shoot at Cole and stick their tongues out at him.
The rest of the introductions continue with a steady rhythm as Cole successfully unloads the car with his little elves.
“That’s Grace,” Cole tells me as we enter the building. He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the floor and embraces the plump middle-aged woman approaching.
“I thought Wheels was coming,” she hugs him back and turns to me.
“Hi, I’m Lexy,” I offer my hand and the kind woman gently waves it away as she engulfs me in her arms.
“Welcome to Saints’ Academy, dear.”
“Don’t get fooled by the name – there are no saints here!” Cole jokes.
“And there weren’t any when you were here!” she kindheartedly reprimands him. “Where’s Wheels?”
“Well, Wheels is…Wheels. He left it ‘till the last minute and something came up.”
“Oh, I hope you didn’t tell him off…oh, he did, didn’t he?” she asks for my confirmation.
“I’m sure you know him way better than I do,” she smiles at my comment.
“OK, time to go!” Cole announces.
Grace and I are slightly taken by surprise at his abrupt declaration.
“Oh,” I barely manage to say as he nods for me to exit.
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she asks him. “You never bring guests here; let me get to know your friend.”
“Not tonight, Grace,” he leans and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Oh, alright… It was nice meeting you, dear, I hope to see you again soon.”
“Yeah, you too,” I can’t help but grin at her gentleness.
He leads me outside and she sees us out.
“You can come tomorrow, too, if you want!” she shouts at the distance.
As we get back into the car, I ask Cole what tomorrow is all about.
He explains that it’s the academy’s anniversary and apparently a grand barbeque takes place with lots of food, games and festivities. And that’s what the ‘stuff’ we brought is for.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m truly happy I got invited to this special event. And it apparently means a lot to all the guys – Cole said everyone will be there tomorrow. I couldn’t help but notice however, a hint of hesitation when he asked me to go. As if he was holding back, like he would be relieved if I didn’t attend; and I get it, he might not be willing to share this part of his life with me. Therefore, I choose not to make any commitments.
“Come on! There’s a chicken in the oven waiting for us!” he leads the way back to his place.
CHAPTER 33
Halfway through dining, I nearly choke on my bite when he brought up the woods-and spices-and amber-and leatherrrrrr cheer.
“You kept singing that last night. Like a cheerleader, the only thing missing were your pom-poms! And what does that even mean?”
I take my time to swallow and settle in my seat.
“I’m not sure, I was drunk, remember?” I avoid telling him that it’s about his cologne. How pathetic would that sound?
“Hm,” he comments not quite convinced by my answer.
“If anyone told me a couple of months ago, that we would be sitting here now, having a civilized dinner together, I would have called them crazy,” I hurry to change the subject.
“Yeah, well, it’s a surprise for me, too. Considering…”
“Considering what?” I ask him between munches with an eyebrow raised.
“Considering we used to be down each other’s throat all the time.”
“Oh, and now we’re not?” I retort. “I don’t know how, but you always seem to find a way to push my buttons- ”
“Me?? I didn’t even know I had that many buttons until you pushed them! All!” he chuckles, and I catch a glimpse of his dimples.
“The feeling is mutual!” Brief pause. “And what did I ever do to push your buttons?” I challenge him.
“Oh, I don’t know. Just about…everything??”
“What?? Give me one example!” I point my fork at him. He lowers my hand with his. I drop it in my plate and cross my arms in front of me.
“Let’s see…” he takes his time and pointedly taps his chin as if in deep thought on what to say. “How about when you barged into my office pretending to be my girlfriend?!”
I stifle a laugh.
“That was right after you were dirty-talking to me on the phone!” I retort.
“You went all ‘mental girlfriend’ on me in front of the guys!”
“You asked me about my underwear while I was with my boss!”
“Well how about the time you poisoned me with alcohol in one of our meetings?”
“Oooh…right…that was fun. And terrifying,” I admit. “Well, how about the time you told everyone I was your girlfriend, after I said I was joking?”
“You were practically asking for it! Plus, it came in handy with your Simon situation.”
“…How about…when you gave my number to Alex!”
“Right, well…that was a bad call…”
“A-ha!” I exclaim victoriously.
“Are we keeping score?”
“Of course, we are!” I declare.
“Fine.” He settles in his seat and leans closer to me. “What about the time you decided to go ‘spy’ on Digit, without telling me first?”
“I tried to! Besides, what difference would it make anyway? You would have said no, I would have gone anyway, and you would have been mad, ’cause I didn’t listen to you!”
He shakes his head slightly exasperated.
“That’s exactly my point. You don’t care about the danger you’re putting yourself in. Or the consequences your actions might have.”
“Well, maybe that’s because I’m selfish and inconsiderate!” I bring up the words he said during our fight a week ago.
“Well, you are! And that’s proof of it!”
I can tell he’s close to the edge and I have a feeling this conversation is starting to get out of hand. This is not about pushing each other’s buttons anymore.
“And that’s all you’ve got? My ‘spying’ is your proof I don’t care about anyone but myself, is it?” I get ready to throw in his face the fact that I practically did that for him, but he cuts me before I get the chance to explain.
“No. That’s not my only proof.” He raises his eyes to me and takes a deep breath. I keep my gaze locked with his, in a silent dare. He exhales loudly. “How about the time we almost…” I felt it coming and braced myself for it, “slept together? At Eric’s lake house.”
His words shoved me hard like a tidal wave. I have to hit back so I spit out the first thing that comes to my mind.
“How about the time you said I was just ‘fuckable’?”
He’s taken aback by my reply.
I slowly rise from my seat and collect our dishes, giving him some time to process.
I reach the sink and rest my hands over the edge of the counter, keeping my back to him. I use this brief moment to recompose myself, after realizing that I never really got over that incident. I slowly turn in place and cross my arms and feet, cocking my head to the side, watching him.
He is still sitting at his stool by the kitchen island. He drives his hands through his hair and places his thumb between his eyebrows.
“How- Where did you hear that?” he asks me cautiously.
“Does it really matter?”
“How long have you known?”
“Does it matter?” I repeat angrily.
“It matters to me!”
“Since the moment it happened,” I inform him bitterly.
“Is that why you kept refusing me?”
“Oh, that’s your question? That’s the point, huh? I kept refusing you and that messed with your plans? Is that why you kept trying?”
“You kept refusing me,” he turns to look at me, “and yes, it messed with my plans. But that’s what kept me in check around you. Sometimes.”
I must have indicated my curiosity with my expression since he changed his stance and went into an explicatory mode.
“I have every intention of respecting your decisions but sometimes… well, sometimes it’s beyond my reach. Beyond our reach. I slipped, you slipped…we let it get out of control…”
“Have you got any idea how that made me feel?” I refer to the ‘fuckable’ incident again. “I had practically just met you and hearing you calling me that…”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But that’s not how I see you. Not now, not then. Even when I said it, I didn’t mean it… Well, fine, I did mean it but not in the way you think I meant it.”
“I think your exact words were: she’s not datable, she’s just fuckable,” I push him.
“Well, I was a jackass! Major dickhead! I didn’t know you at all two months ago, and I called it like I saw it.”