No boys, no drama.
It didn’t always work. There was Cole, and Tiffany and I had our share of high school girl drama with our group of friends. But I never got lost in it. Because my mom warned me about it, I always had this sense that there was something on the other side. That if I could just get through it without getting bogged down by it, better things would be waiting.
She had no way to know what I would face with dad. Nobody would ever have guessed that he had the capacity to be so drunk and so mean. Until she died, I barely ever saw him with a drink that wasn’t water or coffee.
And here was Cole, sleeping next to me without a care in the world. It was a fork in the road. I could choose the side with Cole and comfort and security, or I could choose the side where everything was unknown and failure was possible.
I struggled to choose.
In the morning, Cole woke me up with room service.
“Belgian waffle with strawberries, right?”
“You remembered.”
“I could never forget you,” he said, kissing me on the forehead. “How’d you sleep?”
“Okay.”
“I’m heading to Miami for a few days, but I’ll be back. I thought we might look at some places before I head home next week.”
Putting my fork down, I looked at the perfectly arranged breakfast tray. There was even a flower in miniature vase next to the miniature bottle of ketchup and the little packages orange marmalade and grape jelly. Everything was laid out in front of me in perfect order.
“Cole, we need to talk.”
“Never a good conversation starter.”
“Listen, I love you; I do. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. You’re part of my . . . I can’t think of the right word.”
“History?” He suggested.
That was the right word, but it was too hard to say.
“You’re part of me. When you broke up with me, I was devastated. I wanted to do something to fix it, but I knew I had to come to Florida. I had to let go of my home and you and my whole childhood to find my way.”
“Elana, you don’t have to explain.”
“I’m so sorry, Cole. Maybe when I’ve had time to do more and see more.”
“It’s okay.” He sipped a cup of room service coffee and winced. He always thought coffee was bitter and I hoped that was the cause of his expression. I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him. “Tell me one thing. It doesn’t have anything to do with that guy—the one you live with.”
“Jaxon? No, not at all. We’re just roommates. This is about me. The breakup still eats at me. You didn’t talk to me for months afterwards. I just need to move forward with my life Cole.”
“I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt, but you know that. I did it to you.”
I could see the tears in his eyes, but he turned and walked to the window before they fell.
“What can I do?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine, but I need some time to myself. Can I drive you back?” he asked choked up.
“No, it’s not necessary. I could use the walk.”
I kissed him and we held each other like two people gripping a life preserver. Other than Tiffany, he was all I had left of my life before. He let his arms go and pushed back a bit to look at me.
“You ever need anything, you call. I’m here.”
“I know, Cole. I know.”
Chapter 21
The sun felt harsh when I stepped out of the hotel lobby. Clouds would have been more appropriate; I wasn’t in the mood for blue skies. It wasn’t far from the hotel to the apartment, but I still couldn’t face Jaxon. I called Tiffany, trying to hide the tears from my voice, to ask if she would meet for coffee. As usual, she noticed the tears and told me she would be there right away.
“Can I get an extra-large iced mocha with whip?” I asked the barista.
From behind me, Tiffany said, “So it’s that kind of morning? Make that two, please.” She gave me a very big and much needed hug. “Go sit down. I’m buying and serving.
I found a table in the corner and sat with my back to everyone else. This wasn’t my area of expertise. My dating experience consisted of Cole and a couple of flirtations with boys that never amounted to anything. I grew up in a small town and everyone knew we were a couple in high school. Even without Cole, I wasn’t at the top of anyone’s hot list. The girl whose mother died was a tragic figure in high school. Mostly, people left me alone, as if they thought having a dead parent was contagious.
Since coming to college, my only significant male interactions were with Lance and Jaxon. Lance as a friend and Jaxon as a very complicated roommate. This was probably why my mother told me to avoid boys and drama. She failed to point out that they were the same thing.
“So, are you going to tell me everything?” Tiffany asked as she placed a huge coffee drink in front of me.
I looked down at my twiddling thumbs. “Well Jax and I got into it about that girlfriend he has back home. All he did was yell at me and just stormed off.”
“He was mad you found out?”
“I don’t really know. He didn’t even try to explain anything.”
“So are you going to get back with Cole then?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Umm, I told him that I didn’t want to get back together.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. He reminds me of my life back in Iowa. Maybe it could be different if he hadn’t broke up with me. He did though and I would have a tough time being emotionally involved with someone like that.”
“Plenty of girls do.”
“Yeah, but nine times out of ten they end up with a broken heart again.”
“True.”
We sat in silence and all I could think about was Jaxon. Nothing else. Not even telling Cole I didn’t want to get back together with him. I sighed.
“I just don’t get Jax sometimes. One minute things are good and the next he’s pissed off.”
“Well, you can stay with us, Elana. You know that.”
“I know.”
“But . . .”
“But I’ll never get any sleep on the lumpy couch that shares a wall with the thumpy headboard?”
“That’s true...” She laughed.
“Still, I’ve gotta find a new place. I can’t stay with him anymore.”
“You’ve got some things wrong about Jaxon. I found out so much that I never knew when Lance and I followed him out of the club the other night.”
“He got kicked out for fighting, and it wasn’t his first fight.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t some kind of male ego, ass-kicking nonsense. He was really upset about some things and Bobby was pushing his buttons. I don’t know all the details about that fight, but I know there is some serious bad blood between him and Bobby.”
“What did you find out? It must be big. You’re not usually this supportive of Jaxon.”
“To be fair, I barely know Jaxon, just him and his girls. Lance is a personal information vault. He doesn’t gossip about people at all.”
“I’m not sure any of it matters, Tiff. This is about me more than Cole or Jaxon. I promised my mom that I’d work hard in college and life.”
“I grew up with your mom. She didn’t want you holed up in the library like some kind of scholarly monk. She just didn’t want you dragged down by nonsense. Working hard doesn’t have to mean separating yourself from people.”
I sighed. Outside the windows of the cafe, I could see people—young couples, old couples, families, students—wandering around in the Sunday sunshine. She was right. I’d barely bothered with people since arriving in Florida. I tried to leave home, but I brought a lot of baggage with me.
“I know you’re right. I can’t wall myself off and spend all my time studying, but I don’t think messing around with a beer-soaked, bar brawler is the best way to branch out.”
“I’ll never think anyone’s good enough for you. But you need to talk to him. You’re obviously dra
wn to each other and the argument obviously upset you. You two haven’t even talked about the kiss. You need to talk without fighting before you decide anything.”
“I brought the kiss up during our fight but he was too pissed off by then.”
“Just talk to him again Elana,”
“Give me one reason, something to make me forget that he told me to fuck off.”
“How about the fact that you were totally wrong? He doesn’t have a secret girlfriend back home. He has a mom that relies on him for everything. I don’t know where he goes all the time, but I know that some of it is spent taking care of her and most of the rest of it is spent going to races and running races for Jim. That’s how he makes money to pay for school and take care of his mom.”
Taking a huge sip of my coffee, I tried to absorb what she was saying. Tiffany was telling me that Jaxon was not a drunken slacker that skipped all of his classes. Instead, he was the kind of guy that held down a demanding job while attending school.
“I’m sure he isn’t interested in talking to me anyway.”
“Well, you’re assumptions have gotten you this far,” she said, raising her glass to me in a sarcastic toast. “Did you ever consider that drama and men are part of the world?”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Nope, we can’t. I’m leaving to go find lunch. You’re leaving to go find Jaxon.”
“Some friend you are,” I sulked.
“Yeah, well today I’m not the greatest friend. Today, I’m a momma bird pushing you out of the nest. If you fall on your feathered ass, I’ll come get you.” She stood up and rubbed the top of my head. I never figured out how Tiffany always managed to seem like the older sister despite only being one week older than me.
”You know Elana, Jaxon is working on his car with Lance today at a place called Joe’s Garage. It’s a perfect day to walk a few blocks to the garage.”
“Is that a hint for something?”
“Just go talk to him.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I was surprised she didn’t take hold of my hand and drag me there. After a small hug and a kiss on the cheek, she left the cafe.
Chapter 22
I texted and called him to talk but never got a response. Swallowing my pride, I headed to Joe’s Garage with directions Tiffany gave me. When I got there I could see Jaxon’s red Ford Torino, up on jacks with the front raised and the wheels off. Jaxon walked out of the garage with a surprised look on his face. He wiped his greasy hands on a towel, tossing it on the ground, watching me. His chest expanded with a deep breath before he walked toward me.
“What are you doing here?” he asked angrily.
“I don’t know. I thought we should talk. Is that okay?”
“It doesn't matter to me,” he said, lying on the creeper and pulling himself under the car.
He obviously wasn't happy with me. Years of avoiding my father made me better at hiding from problems than confronting them.
“Are you seriously going to be this way?” I asked, frustrated.
He pushed himself out from under the car and snapped, “Are you kidding me? If this is your attempt at an apology, it’s fucking awful.”
He stood up, looking around for his towel. It was on the ground close to my feet, so I picked it up, handing it to him.
He looked directly into my eyes; I could see his pain. I’d been a colossal ass.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said those things or listened to Amber.”
He sighed again. Looking into the distance, squinting from the bright sun, he stayed quiet for a long time. I looked at the ground, trying to wait him out. Decades passed in moments. It was clear that he wasn’t the forgiving type. I turned to walk away and felt his hand wrap around my wrist.
“Don’t go.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want you to go.”
“I really am sorry,” I said as tears began to form in my eyes.
“Dammit, don’t cry,” he said, wrapping me in his arms.
“I should’ve talked to you first Jax. I’m so stupid.”
“No you aren’t. I’ve done stupider shit than that.”
“That’s true.” We laughed.
We stood in the parking lot, holding each other tightly. He smelled like car grease and perspiration, but in the best way possible. When we finally let go, he kissed me on the forehead.
“You know so many things wrong about me, Toots.”
“You haven’t given me much to go on Jax. You need to open up more.”
“How about I make you dinner tonight? We’ll talk and see where it goes,” his smart-ass grin returned.
“I’ll take the dinner, but nothing else,” I said with a smile.
“We’ll see about that,” he said, smiling.
“Shut up,” I laughed.
Lance walked out from the garage. “You two love birds finally over your problems? Because bitchy Jax is annoying,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“We’re fine now,” Jaxon responded, winking at me.
"So how did you two get into racing?" I asked interested.
"I don't know, I guess I always loved cars since I was a little kid. I would carry those little Matchbox cars around and then I became obsessed with car shows. My father was also interested in cars so that helped. Then when I was a freshman in high school I took shop class. As a class we rebuilt a 1970 Dodge Charger. That's when I knew that I had a real love for cars and that I wanted to rebuild some of my own. I did the dishes for a local country club. I was able to save up enough money to get an old 1971 Ford Torino Cobra at the end of my senior year. Lance and I then made the move to Florida for college. He came with me just like Tiffany decided to go to college here with you. We both have really good friends."
"And then you suddenly started racing?"
"No, it was after Lance and I were invited to a party to watch the races at the mansion. Lance and I both thought it would be awesome to try and beat some of the guys that were racing. Lance too was interested in cars. We took shop class every year through high school together. So we completely rebuilt the engine, got a good carburetor with money we didn't have, and everything else."
"How did you afford it?"
"We borrowed money from Lance's dad for the entry fee and everything else we used to rebuild everything underneath the hood of the car. Then after we won the first race we used the money and bought better equipment and parts. Race after race after race we won and I haven't lost since I started. We were able to pay back his dad real quick and now we make really good money together racing all the time. Even though I'm the one racing he decides what we put under the hood of the car."
"Beginners luck?"
"No, I'm just that good," he said laughing.
I laughed. "Then how did you get the second Torino?"
"I bought it with the money we made from the races. I didn't want to use the race car to drive around town. So I got another muscle car and rebuilt it."
Amazing.
Simply amazing.
“That’s amazing guys.”
“But hey, Lance and I have got more work to do here. Let’s say seven for dinner at home?”
“Seven it is,” I said.
“It’s a date.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
Chapter 23
On my way home, I kept turning that phrase over in my mind: at home. It never occurred to me that Florida was home now and Jaxon’s place had become part of my home. It was my home, temporary or not. I hadn’t gone to the university housing office in almost three weeks to harass them about a dorm room. Somehow, I’d forgotten that there was any place else for me to be.
After my afternoon class ended at five, I rushed back to the apartment and showered, dressing in a pair of jeans that fit me just right and a low cut shirt showing just enough cleavage. I could see the swell of my breasts as I examined myself in the mirror
and a flush spreads along my cheeks.
I dabbed on perfume as I stood in front of the mirror. "God, you're ridiculous," I said to myself. "You're not a slut. It's just one date, one date. It's nothing else."
Maybe it was.
The events of the last few days exhausted me so I laid down in bed to rest while I waited for Jaxon to get home. I fell asleep thinking about him, napping until the sounds of cooking woke me hours later. I made my way to the kitchen, pretending to be calm. I gasped when I saw him.
He was freshly showered and wearing jeans and a black fitted t-shirt. He displayed his muscles the way some girls showed off their cleavage. Even when you knew he was doing it, you couldn’t look away.
Wow.
I felt underdressed and bedhead couldn’t have looked good.
“Hi,” I said softly.
He looked over his shoulder and responded, “Hello, sleeping beauty.”
I shook my head side to side, rolling my eyes. “I know. Serious attack of laziness. I’m going to go fix my hair before we eat.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I’m kind of a mess Jax.”
“Are you kidding, Toots? There are women that spend all day trying to look like that. Stay and chat. It’s boring to cook alone.”
I was blushing again. “Thanks.”
I sat at the counter, bouncing my knee up and down. I watched him from behind as his biceps flexed with each stir of the whisk and shake of a pan. The sound of a knife slicing through broccoli and clicking on the cutting board added rhythm to the scene. His feet were bare, tapping a consistent beat on the wooden floor. Everything in the room seemed to tingle with his energy, including my entire body.
“I'm putting broccoli in the Chicken Alfredo. Is that okay?” he asked, turning his head just enough to see me in the corner of his eye.
“Sure, they always say to eat your broccoli,” I replied, squinting my face at the ridiculous words coming out of my mouth.
I was nervous around him for the first time in a while. We had lived together, made out, drawn each other, argued, and slept in the same bed, but we had not been on a date. We were in the same apartment in the same kitchen, where we had breakfast many times, but this was all new. He was different.
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