Promises (Coda Book 1)

by Marie Sexton

  I spent the last two weeks of the summer in Coda with my family, dreading the start of school. It would be Cole’s senior year, but since I’d added a second major late in the game, I still had two years left. It was beginning to feel like I’d never be finished.

  When I returned to the apartment, four days before the start of the fall semester, I found Bryan and Cole on the couch together. They sat inches apart, their bodies turned toward each other and hands clasped, obviously deep in conversation. Nothing could have surprised me more than finding them together again. I left them alone, even though I was dying to ask what was going on. When I woke up the next morning, Bryan was still there, smiling at me sheepishly as he made coffee.

  “So, you’re back together?” I asked.

  “I hope so,” he said quietly. “It’s what I’ve wanted since the moment he left.”

  “I think it’s what he’s wanted too.”

  And so once again, the three of us were roommates.

  In some ways, it was a replay of our sophomore year. The three of us drank together. We studied. We argued good-naturedly over whose turn it was to do the dishes. We did all the normal, boring things college students do. I went to CSU football games with Terry and Michael on Saturdays, and drove home for Broncos games on Sundays, giving Bryan and Cole time alone.

  It should have been perfect.

  But it wasn’t.

  Unlike the first time around, Bryan and Cole rarely argued. I never heard them bickering or came home to find Cole crying on the couch. Cole stayed home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. As a kind of compromise, Bryan agreed to let him pay for a four-day vacation in Vail during the winter break. They were painfully polite with one another, both of them trying to reclaim what they’d lost.

  But they couldn’t.

  Even I could see it wasn’t the same. Before, they’d radiated some magical, bubbly feeling of joy. Now, there was only solemnness and a quiet desperation that broke my heart.

  They loved each other, but they didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. They couldn’t figure out how to let the past go.

  One day in the middle of February, I came home to find what I’d been expecting for weeks—Cole in tears, and all signs of Bryan gone from our apartment.

  I tossed my backpack aside and went to sit next to Cole. “What did he do?”

  “He didn’t do anything,” Cole said. His bangs were long enough now to cover his eyes, when he angled his head just right. “I’m the one who ended it.”

  I didn’t bother asking why, because I knew. I held him, letting him cry until he was ready to talk. He finally pulled away and went in search of tissues.

  He came back a minute later with a whole box of them. “Good lord, I never let myself blubber the way I do with you.” He plopped back down on the couch. “I feel like such a sap.”

  “You’re allowed to cry with me.”

  He sighed. “I wanted so badly for it to work this time.”

  “I know. I think he did too.”

  “Last summer, he came by to see you, but he found me instead. We talked for hours. He begged me to give us another chance. It was exactly what I’ve wanted since we broke up. I hadn’t been that happy since… well, I guess since we’d first fallen in love. And yet, here we are.”

  “Too much has happened since then.”

  He slumped, looking so broken, I wished I had some way of making him feel better. “We still love each other. That’s the thing. We convinced ourselves we could go back to how things were before, but it doesn’t work that way. When it comes right down to it, we still have the same problems we always had. He wants me to stop traveling, but can’t. I want him to trust me, but he doesn’t. I want to forget how much it hurt, walking into that apartment and seeing him with Josh. He wants to pretend I haven’t been with anybody since him.” He shook his head, wiping away tears. “We love each other, but it isn’t enough. And we decided it was time to quit lying to ourselves about it.”

  I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that he deserved better, that my heart ached for him, but what was the point? I couldn’t change anything.

  I put my arm around again, and he huddled against me, still sniffling. “It doesn’t seem like it should hurt so much the second time.”

  COLE SPENT the next few weeks in a funk, moping around the house and listening to “Purple Rain” on repeat. Not the whole album, which would have been bearable. Only the title track, over and over again. I would have broken the CD in two and burned it, if given the choice.

  “I didn’t even make plans for spring break,” he told me dejectedly. It was the second Friday in March, and everybody we knew was either leaving the next morning or already gone. “I know I’d be happier if I left town, but part of me hopes he’ll come back and beg me to try again.”

  “Is there any reason it’d work better the third time around?”

  “No. I’m being a fool.”

  We stayed up late watching movies. I’d only been asleep for three hours when he burst through my bedroom door, flicking the lights on and practically blinding me. “Pack a bag,” he said. “We’re going to Mazatlán.”

  I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, although it did nothing to clear the fog in my head. “I can’t afford a trip to Mexico.”

  “My treat.” He held up his hand, stopping my argument before I could even begin to formulate it. “You’ll be doing me a favor by coming, honey. Paying your way is sort of like buying myself a present. You aren’t going to be a Scrooge and take away my present, are you?”

  If there was an argument to be made, it wasn’t one I wanted to use.

  He smiled, seeing he was going to get his way. “Good. Our flight leaves at ten. Don’t forget your swim trunks.”

  He was already out the door, halfway down the hall to his own room. “I never swim,” I called after him. “My trunks are at my parents’ house.”

  “Then we’ll buy new ones when we get there.”

  By that evening, we were sitting on a beach, me with a cold beer, and him with some kind of fruity, frozen, umbrella-laden concoction. We ate a late dinner at a boardwalk cafe, watching the sun set over the ocean, before finally going back to our room.

  It was easily the nicest hotel I’d ever stayed in, with an ocean view from the balcony. He’d booked one room with two beds. I exited the bathroom after brushing my teeth to find him sitting on one of the beds, his shoes off.

  “We’re friends, right?” he asked.

  “Of course.” And if not, I sure wasn’t going to bring it up now, when he’d just flown me to Mazatlán.

  “Lord knows bringing strangers back here for sex would be awkward and complicated, but I have no intention of living like a monk this week.”

  I sat down on the opposite bed. “Uh… okay. So, are you saying you want me to get a different room?”

  “Honey, If I’d wanted you in a different room, I’d have booked you in a different room.” He leaned back on his arms and smiled at me. It was a look I’d seen on his face before, but never directed at me. It was flirtatious and blatantly suggestive. “You’ve heard the term ‘friends with benefits,’ right?”

  I gulped. I wasn’t sure how serious he was, although the little brain inside my pants didn’t care. He was ready and willing.

  “What do you say?” he asked. “Want to spend the week fucking me silly?”

  I laughed. “Well, when you put it that way….”

  And so began the most wonderfully exhausting week of my life. I quickly learned that he loved oral, he didn’t particularly like to be kissed, and he wanted to bottom every single time. Over the next five days, we rocked the bed, made use of the shower, and nearly died of embarrassment when we had to switch rooms because the bathroom counter collapsed underneath us.

  Up until then, all my sexual encounters had been casual, and they’d all been fun. But sex with Cole gave both terms a whole new meaning. It wasn’t so much that the sex itself was any better or worse. It was more that our friendship g
ave it a playful edge I’d never experienced before. I hadn’t laughed so much in years, and certainly not during sex. We joked and teased and went through a ridiculous number of condoms. The first day or two, I worried it would ruin what we had, but by the third day, I knew the opposite was true. We were friends, and somehow the sex was the proverbial icing on the cake.

  Our last night in Mazatlán, we lay in bed together, watching TV. It was in Spanish, which meant it mostly sounded like gibberish to me, although he seemed to understand it. He moved closer, resting his head on my shoulder. “This has been a great week, hasn’t it?”

  “The best,” I said. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  “Thank you for coming.” He laughed. “I didn’t mean that as a double entendre, but I guess it works both ways.”

  We were scheduled to fly home at eight o’clock the next morning. I hated the thought of going back to our normal lives. “I can’t believe I have another year of school, and you won’t be there. It’s going to suck.”

  “I’ll be back so often, you’ll hardly know I’m gone.” He rolled onto his stomach, craning his neck to meet my eyes. “Let’s make a pact. If you’re still single this time next year, we’re coming back to Mazatlán and doing this all over again. Well, maybe not the part where we broke the bathroom. But everything else. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Like I’d say no to a suggestion like that. But then I realized what he’d said. “Wait. If I’m still single. What about you?”

  “I’ll definitely be single.” He sighed and plopped back down next to me, his head once again on my shoulder. “I’m not doing the other thing anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve decided my lifestyle isn’t conducive to long-term monogamy.”

  “You’re choosing a lifetime of celibacy instead?”

  He laughed. “Good Lord. Do you even know me?”

  “So, what? Back to blatant promiscuity?”

  He shrugged, sobering quickly. “Most of the places I go, I have friends.”

  Understanding dawned. “Friends like me, you mean.”

  “Friends, yes. But none of them like you.” He turned again to face me, this time moving halfway on top of me so we were face-to-face. “I was going to say this to you tomorrow, before we went home, but maybe now’s better.” He put his soft fingers against my cheek. “You’ve been my rock for four years now. My lifeline. I can’t even tell you what that’s meant to me. I’ll never be able to repay all the kindness you’ve shown me.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” I said, confused.

  He nodded, still solemn. “You have. You’ve been amazing. And I just… I want you to know how much it means to me. I want you to know….” His chin trembled a bit as he struggled to say whatever it was he needed to say. “I love you so much. Not in that messy, mushy, romantic way. But you’ve truly shown me what it means to have a friend.”

  I still didn’t think I’d done anything to warrant such a confession, but there was no point in arguing. Instead, I put my hand behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

  Up until that point, the sex between us had been fun and playful. This time, it was slow and tender, some new understanding solidifying between us. Maybe it was because he let me truly kiss him for the first time. Maybe it was the tears that continued to dampen his cheeks. It was my first experience with sex meaning something more than just getting off—the moment I realized emotions could change everything. I wouldn’t quite have called it making love, but it was damn close.

  When it was over, he settled against me. “Friends, right?” he whispered.

  I put my arm around him and kissed his forehead. “Definitely.” Not like any other friendship I’d ever had, but then again, it was Cole. How could it be?

  THE NEXT morning, I woke in his bed to find him watching me. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

  “What?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “Was I talking in my sleep again?”

  “No.” He reached out and took my hand, and something about his expression told me this was serious. “Jared, you’re too good of a friend for me to keep to myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bryan changed majors late in our sophomore year. He isn’t graduating yet either.”

  “So? What does that have to do with me?”

  “He might need you next year, and if he does, I want you to be there for him. If he extends some kind of olive branch, I want you to take it.”

  “I haven’t even talked to him since he moved out.”

  “I know.”

  “You mean more to me than he does.”

  “And I appreciate that more than you know.” He squeezed my fingers and gave me a sad smile. “I want you to promise me anyway, Jared. Please.”

  It was an easy enough promise to make. I didn’t actually think I’d have to keep it.

  THE LAST two months of school were hectic. Partying and drinking became things we’d do again once summer came. In the meantime, we studied. Being his senior year, Cole especially was under the gun, writing so many epic-length essays, it made me glad I wasn’t in the College of Liberal Arts.

  Twice in those two months, he held his hand out to me and said, “Come to bed with me.” I never initiated the sex, but I didn’t turn it down when he offered either. If that made me a bad person….

  Well, I figured I’d have good company in hell.

  The third time he took me into his bed was the night before graduation, and we spent a couple of hours burning off some postfinals stress.

  “You still don’t know where you’re staying next year?” he asked me as we lay in bed together afterward.

  “No.” Our lease would be up at the end of May, and he’d be gone. I could go home to Coda for the summer. I could stay in Fort Collins. Either way, it didn’t feel urgent. I could always fall back on my parents until school started again at the beginning of September. “Are you ready for graduation tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Sure. What’s to be ready for? I already did the hard part. Graduated with a GPA above 3.0.” He gave a halfhearted shrug. “I fulfilled the requirements left in my father’s will. I’m now even richer than I was before.”

  “Drinks are on you, then,” I teased. “We’ll go out and celebrate after the ceremony tomorrow, right?”

  He hesitated for a moment. Then, “Sure. Of course, honey.”

  He was gone by the time I dragged my lazy ass out of bed the next morning, but that didn’t surprise me. After all, he had to get to campus, find his place in line, do the whole picture rigamarole. The only thing I had to do was show up at the last minute and find a place to sit.

  Moby Gym was packed by the time I arrived. I halfway wished I’d thought to find out if any of my friends would be there as spectators, but I hadn’t. I found a lone seat and waited through a ridiculous number of speeches.

  It wasn’t until they called his name that I realized my mistake.

  I left the ceremony immediately, even though it disrupted everybody in my row. Of course Cole wasn’t marching. Why would he? He had no family. Nobody to take pictures of him in his cap and gown. Nobody to cheer when his name was called except for me.

  “Cole?” I called as I entered our apartment. The majority of the furniture remained, but the space felt empty nonetheless.

  He was gone. I found only a note taped to my bedroom door.

  Jared—

  It’s cowardly of me to leave a note rather than saying goodbye in person, but I knew I’d be a blubbering mess. I hope you’ll forgive me for sneaking out.

  I don’t need the furniture. Keep whatever you want. Some men will be by at 4:00 on May 31 to take away what’s left.

  I’ll be back to see you next year as many times as I can manage. I dare say you’ll be sick of seeing me by the end, but I’ll miss you too much to stay away.

  I meant what I said in Mazatlán. I love you with all my heart. Some things really are meant to be, Jared. Our friendship is one of them.

  D
evoted to you forever and ever—

  Cole

  P.S. I expect you to keep your promise.

  I sat down on the couch with the note in my hand, telling myself the itch behind my eyes was only allergies. It was just like him to sneak away, but to leave such a generous parting gift, I could hardly hold it against him. I glanced around at the furniture. It was nicer by far than anything I owned. The only thing I’d be leaving for the movers was the crap I’d been using since my sophomore year.

  I hated that I had to face my final year without him, but that was three months away, and I still hadn’t decided what I was doing for the summer. I was debating my options when somebody knocked on the front door.

  It was a hesitant knock, as if the person wasn’t sure they wanted me to hear or not. When I opened the door, I found Bryan, looking more than a little apprehensive.

  “Hey,” he said. And then he seemed to run out of words.

  “Hey.”

  He glanced nervously behind me, obviously trying to figure out of Cole was still there.

  “He left already,” I said. “Is that who you came to see?”

  “No. I came to see you. I wasn’t sure if I hoped he’d be here, or if I hoped he’d be gone.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing.

  “Listen, I can’t stand to come in there. It’ll only remind me of him.” He tipped his head toward the parking lot and the sunshine. “How about you come out instead?”

  “Sure.”

  We went wordlessly down the stairs to sit on the bottom step, staring west at the glorious Rocky Mountains. The grass hadn’t been mowed in a while, and he pulled up a handful and began shredding it. “What are you doing for the summer?”

  “Going home.” I hadn’t been sure of it until that moment, but suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to be in Coda, tucked away in the rolling foothills. I wanted to spend the entire summer mountain biking and camping with my brother, and helping out at my parents’ auto parts store. Colorado owned my heart, and I knew right then I’d never leave it. “What about you?”