Outside, Cole leads me to a black Honda Pilot. It’s a few years old, not brand new like most of the cars on campus. I remind myself he’s like me, here on scholarship, which automatically makes me feel better because it means we’re on equal footing.
With his hand on my back, he opens the passenger door for me to climb in.
Jogging around the front of the SUV he slides inside, turning the engine on. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but you look beautiful.”
My cheeks heat with his compliment. The dress isn’t my normal attire and I’d prefer more skin covered, but I do feel pretty in it.
“Thanks. You look good too.”
I find myself wishing I had more experience when it came to actual dates and dating so I would know how to make small talk. I feel like I’ve been dumped into the deep, dark waters with nothing to hold onto.
Cole backs out of the parking space and soon campus is left behind us. We don’t talk much on the drive which allows my nerves to grow and fester even more.
Downtown, he pulls into the lot of one of the fancier restaurants, a seafood place I pass on my way to Marcelo’s.
“You do like seafood, right?” he clarifies, rubbing his hands on his pants. He seems as nervous as I am, so that makes me feel better. “I should’ve asked that beforehand, but I didn’t think—”
“Seafood is great.” I cut him off to alleviate his worry.
“Oh, good.”
He hops out and before I can open my door he’s there doing it for me. He takes my hand, leading me inside the restaurant. It’s decorated nicely, with rich dark colors and hints of gold. I would’ve been happy going to a diner, but this is definitely much better.
Cole gives his name to the hostess and we’re immediately led to a table for two near the back windows overlooking a manmade pond.
The hostess hands us each a leather-bound menu before leaving us.
“Have you been here before?”
“No,” he answers, looking at me above his menu. “It’s not too over the top is it?”
“It’s perfect.” I smile at him and his shoulders relax a tiny bit. “Do you not normally date?” I find myself asking.
He winces, appearing sheepish. “Not really.” He twists his lips and I know what he’s saying without words, but I’m not judging. I’ve done the same in the past, so why would I hold someone else to higher standards than I do myself?
“Well, I’m honored you like me enough to take me out on a date.”
He smiles back, his amber eyes sparkling. We both grow quiet, perusing the menu to decide what we want. When the waiter comes to fill the water glasses and places bread on the table we give him our order. My stomach rumbles and I reach for a piece of bread, slathering it with more butter than is necessary.
“How are you liking school so far?” Cole asks, sitting his water glass back down after taking several gulps from it.
“It's not so bad.” I pick at the edge of my nail trying to avoid eye contact. “Definitely different than high school.”
He chuckles, the sound warm and husky, almost cozy like something I could wrap myself in. Once again I find myself wishing that I could like Cole as something more than just a friend, but when I look inside myself I don't feel the warm and fuzzies and I don't think of him in that way. This date is a chance to see if there’s a chance of there being more there, but…
“Yeah, it sure is,” he interrupts my thoughts.
“It’ll be worth it.” I wipe condensation from my glass. “To have my degree, something that’s mine and no one can take from me.”
He angles his head. “What are you studying? I don’t think I’ve asked.”
He hasn’t. Our brief text exchanges have been little more than checking in with one another.
“I want to be a child advocate attorney.”
“That’s cool.”
He doesn’t ask why and for some reason that bothers me. Most people would want to know why you’re choosing a certain profession. I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t care, but that he doesn’t think it matters.
“What about you?” I ask, grabbing another piece of bread to butter. I can’t say no to carbs.
He clears his throat. “Oh, um, I’m studying journalism, but my coach is pretty certain I’ll go pro and that’s the plan for me. I love basketball and I want to play professionally.”
“Wow, really?” I say around a mouthful.
Professional sports doesn’t seem like practical thinking to me, but I’m not going to say that out loud. An injury can happen at any time, taking you out, and besides I’m sure most guys playing college sports hold some kind of hope that they’ll be one of the chosen ones. Granted, I haven’t seen Cole play—not that I’d know what I was looking at anyway—so maybe he really is above the rest.
Our food comes, the smell of the lemon and dill coating the fish I ordered is downright mouthwatering.
The small talk continues while we eat.
“Where are you from? Did you live in Tennessee before?”
I shake my head. “No, I grew up in Virginia actually and then moved to Florida.”
“Virginia? Where? Mascen grew up there.”
My face flushes and I try to think of a way to change the topic but can’t. “The Winchester area.”
“Fuck, really? That’s exactly where Mascen’s from.”
I swallow thickly, stifling the urge to reply that I know. “Small world.” My voice is scarcely above a whisper. “What about you?” I try to speak up. “Where are you from?”
I barely hear his reply, and the rest of the evening I go through the motions, my thoughts now with the wrong guy and not focused on my date as they should be.
When we leave the restaurant he takes me back to the dorm, placing a soft kiss on my lips before leaving.
The girls are waiting eagerly for me to give them every detail, but I fake a headache, removing the makeup and dress before climbing into bed.
When I close my eyes, even my dreams won’t let me free of Mascen.
Chapter Twenty
Mascen
“How’d your date go?” I bite out over breakfast, glaring at the milky depths of my cereal.
“Fuck, man.” Cole scrubs a hand over the top of his head, his smile only able to be described as giddy. The word alone tastes sour on my tongue. “She’s amazing. I love talking to her. She’s so cool.”
My left hand claws into a fist beside the bowl. “That’s … awesome.”
Cole doesn’t notice my lack of enthusiasm. “Crazy story, though. I asked her where she grew up and she said she lived in Winchester for a while. Can you believe that?”
I bristle, surprised she’d tell him about that. “Huh, interesting.”
“Small world, huh? Did y’all ever go to school together?”
“Nope.” It’s not a lie either. I was homeschooled at that point, so was Aurora.
“I’m going to ask her out again.” He fumbles through the drawer, producing a fork for the breakfast scramble he made. “We should go out on a double date. I’d like for you to get to know her. I mean, I’m not planning that far into the future, but there’s something special about this girl.”
My jaw clenches. “That so?” I bite out. My blood pressure has probably spiked with how angry I already feel. It’s fucking stupid for me to feel this way anyway. If Cole wants to date her, so be it, there’s nothing I can do about it.
And.
It.
Shouldn’t.
Matter.
It doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to me. I have to keep telling myself that.
“You okay?” Cole asks suddenly. “You’re turning red.”
I let out a breath. Apparently I forgot the very basic function of how to breathe. “Yeah, I’m fine. I need to go shower.”
I push away my bowl of cereal, going up to my room.
The shower doesn’t make me feel better, and since it’s Saturday I don’t even have the excuse of classes to keep me
distracted. As I’m putting on my sweats, my phone rings. I expect it to be my mom but I’m surprised to find it’s my older sister Willow facetiming me.
“Hey,” I answer, smiling genuinely when her face fills the screen.
“Hey, Loser,” she responds, sticking her tongue out at me. “What are you up to?”
“Just showered.” I point to my wet head like it isn’t obvious. “What do you want?”
“I can’t check up on my little brother?” She pushes her blonde hair over her shoulder, the same shade as our mom’s. It’s ironic how much she looks like our mom, while I look like dad, and Lylah is more of a cross between the two. But I get along best with mom and Willow has always been Daddy’s little girl. “I miss you,” she continues. “We didn’t hang out enough over the summer.”
Clearing my throat, I look away. “We’re both busy with our own lives.”
“I guess we are,” she sighs sadly with a wistful expression. “How’s school?”
“Same old, same old.”
“I know it’s a while before games start, but Dean and I want to come up to one.”
I pause, cocking my head. “Why?”
I’m not trying to be a jerk, but my family doesn’t usually come to my games unless it’s an away one in Virginia. I get it, Aldridge is a long ass way from home—nine hours without stops.
“To support you,” she says in a duh tone. “We thought we could make a little vacation out of it and you could show us around when you have free time.”
I rub the back of my head, not sure what to do since she’s taken me by surprise. “Uh, yeah, that would be cool.”
“Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah, I will be.” Thanksgiving break feels like forever away, but I know it’ll be here before I know it. I don’t know why she asks, of course I’m coming. I’m pretty sure my entire family—my dad’s bandmates included—would hunt me down if I didn’t. Liam, my cousin, skipped out on a few holidays a couple years back and now it’s mandatory that we’re all there. I think the only way we’d be excused from attendance would be if one of us were to die, and even then I think our ghost would be required to make an appearance. I’m not sure my family wants me to haunt their ass. I’d for sure be one of those ghosts that makes life difficult—opening cabinets, throwing spoons, that kind of shit.
“Mascen.” Willow snaps her fingers to get my attention like she’s standing right there.
“Sorry,” I mutter, my apology less than sincere for zoning out on my sister.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Ah, no.” I shake my head sheepishly.
She laughs. “I was just saying how proud I am of you. God knows I gave the college thing a try and it wasn’t for me. You’ll be the first of us to finish college. I mean, even Mom and Dad didn’t go to college.”
I give a shrug. I hadn’t ever given that any thought. Going to college doesn’t feel like anything special to me, just what I always planned and wanted to do. I try not to give it too much thought considering how many years I have ahead of me of med school.
“Uh, thanks,” I reply awkwardly. I don’t take compliments well, I never have. Most of the time they’ve ended with someone wanting something from me. I know that’s not the case with my sister, but some things just aren’t easy to shake.
“So, the wedding is scheduled for this coming summer,” she continues, undeterred by my silence, “we have everything reserved for June tenth.”
“Okay?” It comes out as a question.
“I just wanted you to know so you can’t miss it.”
I narrow my eyes. “I would never miss your wedding—you know that, so what is it you want?”
Apparently even my family does like to butter me up first before asking for something.
“Well, I know you hate attention, but Dean and I really want you to be one of his groomsmen.”
“I don’t have to be best man?” I raise a brow.
She shakes her head. “Nope, Lincoln will be his best man.” Lincoln is her fiancé’s younger brother. “All you have to do is walk one of my bridesmaids down the aisle and stand there and look pretty.”
“As long as I don’t have to plan a bachelor party and do any kind of fancy stuff.”
I am not the planning type, more of the show up and have fun kind of guy.
“Well, I mean there will be a rehearsal dinner—” she begins.
“Fuck.” I scrub my hands over my face. “I liked it better when you guys talked about eloping.”
When Dean’s family, and ours, caught wind that the two were considering running off to Costa Rica to elope with baby sloths or some shit, they put a stop to it real quick. Now, it’s where they’ll go on their honeymoon instead.
Blowing out a breath, I look at the screen, staring into my sister’s eyes. “You’re lucky I like you. I’ll do it.”
They hinted before about me being in the wedding, probably to put out feelers to see if I’d flat out refuse, but now that the planning is going on full force she needs a definitive answer from me. I might hate this kind of shit, but my sister, hopefully, only gets married once so I wouldn’t miss out on being there for her.
Willow smiles back at me. “Thank you, Mascen. I love you.”
“Love you too, sis.”
There’s a skittering in the background and then her hyperactive Jack Russel terrier jumps on her lap out of nowhere, nearly knocking her down. The dog appeared at her fiancé’s mechanic shop and she insisted on keeping him.
“Moo,” she groans, grabbing the dog and holding him away. “That’s not nice. You could’ve hurt me.”
The rascal licks her cheek and she breaks out in giggles. That dog can’t learn anything because she forgives him too easily.
“I gotta go,” I tell her, even though I really don’t have anything I have to do.
“Sorry, love you.”
“Mhmm, love you too,” I say again, ending the call.
Grabbing my computer, I leave my room, searching for Cole, but he’s either left or in his bedroom.
Grabbing a water I head onto the back deck, sitting down at the table there and opening my computer to get started on homework.
School work has always been easy to me, even with growing up on the road most of the time. There’s a misconception that kids who are homeschooled aren’t as smart, or are somehow behind other kids their age, but that’s a wrong assumption.
Opening up the last document I was working on, I read it over, and start adding to it, researching as I go and citing information. I’ve always hated the monotony of it. I understand the why, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
As I work, my thoughts drift in places they shouldn’t.
Namely, Aurora.
Fucking, Rory, always on my mind when she shouldn’t be. Seeing Cole happy should make me happy if I’m a good friend, but clearly I’m not. I don’t like the idea of him liking her, and I don’t even want to think about what it means if they really start dating.
An hour later, my paper is done, but I’m in a pissed off mood.
In need of a distraction, I grab my phone, scroll to the C’s and pick a name.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rory
“New table in your section.” Heather bumps my hip playfully as she passes me in the kitchen. “Requested you specifically. I’d say job well done girl, he’s a looker, but he’s here with a girl.”
I look up from the salad I’m putting together, my lip snarling.
Fucking Mascen, back again.
“Great,” I mutter.
He might be a giant pain in my ass, but at least he does tip me well. Very well. So I can’t complain too much. But I find myself saying anyway, “Why don’t you take them, Heather?”
“Uh, because they asked for you, duh.” I’m pretty sure if she could flick my forehead she would.
“I know, but just tell them I’m too busy.”
“Jealous ex?” she asks.
I�
��m tempted to lie, because I know she’d cover for me if she thought I needed protecting but I can’t. Mascen might be a jerk, but I’m not afraid of him. “No.” I exhale a sigh and pick up the finished salad. “I’ll take care of it.”
Breezing out the door, I drop off the salad before approaching Mascen’s table.
“Nice to see you, Joe.”
“Joe?” He raises a brow. “Are you hallucinating, Princess?”
“Excuse me?” his date interrupts, clearly offended.
“Exotic—you know, the self-named Tiger King. We don’t sell meth here, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”
His eyes narrow but there’s a barely imperceptible twitch of his lips. God, he doesn’t want to smile because of me but he still can’t help being amused.
“Uh, is something going on here that I’m missing,” his date speaks up.
“Sorry, I’m Rory, your waitress this evening.”
“Do you two know each other?”
“Obviously,” we both blurt at the same time, then glare at each other.
“Now, what can I get you guys to drink?”
Mascen orders his usual house draft and his date orders water.
I let Aldo know what I need before getting the water myself, when I breeze back by the bar he has the beer waiting for me. “Thanks, Aldo.”
He grins at me, nodding his head as he reaches down to scoop ice into a glass. There’s a bachelorette party lining the bar, and more than one of them is sending flirtatious glances his way. Poor guy has his hands full tonight.
“Here you guys go,” I say in my politest tone, setting the glasses down along with a straw for the water. “Are you ready to order?”
“No, not quite—”
“Yes,” Mascen interrupts his date, leaning toward me, “we are.”
The poor girl frowns, and honestly I can’t help feeling bad for her since he’s being a dick. Granted, he’s always like this so she must’ve known what she was agreeing too.
“Steak marsala—rare.”
“Do you always order the same thing?”
He laces his fingers together, laying his hands on the table. “Yes, I don’t like trying new things.”
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