by Leah Holt
The heavy beat grew louder and louder as her voice raised to match the music. “This is why I'm hot, this is why I'm hot! This is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot!” Her arms bucked, shoulders bouncing up and down as she jiggled her head around like an idiot. “I'm hot cause I'm fly, you ain't cause you're not—”
“Stop, Vanessa! You're ruining my party!” Stomping forward, I kicked her radio with a grunt.
The small box toppled over, crackling and spitting with sound. I wanted to slam my foot over and over on the radio. I wanted to destroy her stupid prized possession and make her cry.
This was my day, it was my birthday, and ruining it made it her happy. I could never understand why she enjoyed teasing me so much. What had I done to deserve the way she treated me?
Nothing.
“Hey!” she yelled, jumping to her feet and shoving me backwards. “Get out of here, go back and play with your friends!”
Stumbling, I tripped over my feet, landing on my back with a heavy thud. The air shot out of my lungs, forcing me to take quick, slow breaths. Pushing up on my elbows, I tried to hold in my tears.
I didn't want to cry on my birthday, I didn't want to fight or argue with her. I just wanted to enjoy my party, I wanted to have fun and laugh and hang out with my friends. I should have known she wouldn't let me have that.
Looking up at her, Vanessa kicked her leg out and threw a hand to her hip. She didn't look upset or concerned. Not one shred of worry flashed on her face about my safety. She didn't run to my side and help me up or shout she was sorry for pushing me.
All I got was her evil glare.
“I hate you.” Gritting my teeth, I could feel all my friends staring at us.
Their eyes burned into my back, embarrassment and anger flushed my cheeks making my skin burn. Everything revolved around her and I couldn't stand it.
We shared a room, but she claimed seventy-five percent of it. My clothes were hand me downs, my backpack and school supplies were leftovers of hers from the year before.
My birthday was the only thing I could say was actually just mine.
But she had to have that too.
Vanessa loomed over me, fists clenched by her side. “Good, I hate you too.”
Rubbing my nose with the back of my wrist, I pressed myself up and wiped off my clothes. “I'm telling mom.”
“Go on then, run to mommy and tell on me. I don't care, you're just an annoying cry baby.”
Dipping my head into my chest, I glared at her with all the hate I felt. Fire was in my eyes, anger and rage were working my words. “I wish you were dead.”
Fuck, those words were the ones that condemned me to live a life of regret. I had told my sister I wished she was dead. How awful of a person was I?
I knew we were both just young and that odds were we weren't acting any differently than other children who lived too closely together. And I was positive I wasn't the only sibling in the world to ever tell their sister they wished they were dead.
But that didn't change the guilt I felt for saying it and not apologizing to her for it afterwards. That crossed my mind a lot. I apologized to her in prayer, I said I was sorry over and over at her funeral. All I could hope for was that she heard me, that she knew I hadn't actually meant what I said.
If I had known. . . If I had any idea how much those words could truly hurt. . . I would have never allowed myself to say them.
You were a kid. You didn't mean it.
I just wished I had apologized.
There was no taking it back, there was no time to mend the tear between us. A week later everything changed, my world was stripped of normalcy and I was deposited into an alternate universe that was too complicated for a girl that age to ever understand.
Fuck, I still couldn't understand it and I was a grown woman.
I watched her fall into a depression that was so deep, so thick and tarnished, it held onto her with thick claws and refused to let her go. She wouldn't speak, she wouldn't laugh or cry. . . She was just numb. So numb she thought there was only one way to fix it.
Shaking the memory from my mind, I focused on the rest of the shit I had to grab from the store. Turning the corner, I crashed right into the ass of another shopper.
“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see—”
My voice lost momentum, falling to the floor and smashing into a million tiny pieces. Cole smiled down on me, his eyes blazing with hot coals that singed me as I stood still.
“If you want to slap my ass, maybe try asking next time.” Chuckling, he drew his hand over his jaw and tilted his head a hair into his shoulder.
Holding my breath, my lips parted to speak, trying to form letters and words, anything to break the awkward silence that gobbled me up. I stood stunned, staring up at him like a dog begging for food.
“What's your cat's name?” he finally asked, never breaking eye contact.
The air around me grew heavy, cementing my voice in my throat. A heavy lump had lodged itself against the muscles I needed to use to speak. He knew about my cat, he had personal information about me that I hadn't given him.
How did he know?
“Excuse me?” Crooking my jaw, I took a big step back. My first instinct was to protect myself, to keep my world private and concealed from others. No one knew about who I was or where I came from.
All of that was mine and mine alone.
Pointing into my cart, he nodded his head. “Obviously you have a cat, what's its name?”
“Oh, yeah. . . I do.” My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I nervously brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “His name's Frito.”
I have to stop doing that.
Jumping to conclusions, assuming the worst before I even had the chance to dip my toes into the water; it held me back, it kept me silent and alone.
I refused to be blindsided, I refused to be a victim again. My armor was thick, but it only did so much to protect me.
The damn anxiety I had tormented me on the inside. I couldn't stop thinking that someone was watching me, spying on me from the shadows; it was always there. That feeling never left, it made my willing life of solitary confinement bearable when I anticipated evil at every turn.
Stop it! Stop assuming! Not everyone is bad.
“Cute name.” His lids grew heavy as a smug grin filled his face. “Good to see you again, Locke.” Tugging the basket up his forearm, he stepped around me, brushing his arm against mine.
Fire surged across my skin from the subtle contact as a chill ran up my spine. Smiling, I nodded, watching him disappear around the corner.
There was something about him, something familiar. I wasn't sure where I knew him from, but I was certain we had met before.
It could have been as simple as having seen him around; in another store, the coffee shop, passing on the street. But it felt deeper than that, like I had known him in another world, another life.
What's that called. . . Deja vu?
He was a stranger in all aspects of the word, and yet, he also wasn't.
Paying for my groceries, the double doors opened and I walked through, folding up the receipt and tucking it into my pocket.
“Hey, wait up!” Cole jogged towards me from across the parking lot. His muscles tensed and bulged as his legs hit the pavement and his arms shifted by his sides.
Stopping short, I pulled my arms in, coddling the plastic handles in one hand. “What's up?”
“Do you. . .” Running his hands through his hair, he glanced up at the sky and down towards the ground. “Do you want to go grab a coffee or something?”
“Coffee? When? Right now?”
“Yeah.” Digging his thumbs into his back pockets, he rocked on his heels. “It's cool if you don't want to, I'll understand.”
My lip twitched to one side as I digested what he was asking. “You want to go get coffee with me?”
“Um, yeah, that's what I just asked.” Cole smiled, dipping his head into his chest with a raised brow. “Why? Is there a reason I shoul
dn't? Are you a wanted criminal?” Chuckling, he ticked his head towards the small coffee shop in the plaza we were at. “We can just go there. What do you say?”
Do it. Go. Have a damn coffee with him, what will it hurt?
“Okay.”
Reaching out, he pulled the bags off my arm. “Here, let me take these for now.”
A tender smirk teased my lips as my body began to tingle and warm. This man seemed sweet and kind, and he was slowly starting to work his way through the gate. Cole didn't strike me as some douchebag asshole who was just trying to get laid.
He had manners and a tenderness that I had never seen. How would you even know if he's different than other guys? You never let anyone close enough to actually judge.
Tugging the door open, he held it for me to enter first. Finding a booth in the back, he dropped my bags on the seat and fanned his arm out for me to sit.
“Thank you,” I said, slipping inside across the faux leather and tucking my hands into my lap.
Cole sat across from me with a sexy grin on his face. Everything about this man struck me deep in the core. His jaw was hard, cut with sharp angles and a broad outline. His hair was the same hot mess I had seen when he showed up in the bar. The dark locks scattered across his forehead, falling into his eyes.
Slipping the jacket off his shoulders, his muscles rolled, firming like stone beneath the skin. My nerves bubbled in sexual tension with every move he made. When he lifted his arms, his chest flexed. When he smiled, his lids squinted on reflex, and a single dimple would emerge at the corner of his lip.
Fuck me, this guy is hot.
“So, where you from?” he asked as his fingertips danced lightly over the top of the table.
“I'm from all over. I've moved around a lot, but I think this place might be where I stay.”
“Oh yeah, and why's that?” Grabbing a sugar packet from the holder, he fiddled with it in his hands.
“It's beautiful here.”
“Well,” laughing, he drew his thumb over his bottom lip. “I don't know about that. I've lived here for a little while now, and trust me, it has shit just like anywhere else, maybe more.”
Shrugging my shoulder, my foot tapped against the floor nervously. “No place is perfect, but this one feels right. I guess that's what I've been looking for, something that just fits.”
“And you think you found it here?”
“Maybe.”
A waitress came over and he ordered us each a coffee. “Well, I hope you're right then.”
“What about you? Why'd you move here?”
“A job opportunity opened up a few months back, it was an easy move for me to make.”
The waitress returned with our coffees, setting them down. Grabbing the handle, I pulled it closer and watched the steam roll off the top.
I wasn't sure what to do. How do you start a conversation when you've barely spoken to anyone on a personal level in years?
It wasn't the same as riding a bike, I didn't climb back on and take off like I hadn't skipped a beat. My eyes kept darting around the room, scanning the other faces around us, watching and analyzing each and every one.
Examining their eyes, their posture, whether or not they happened to glance my way. Counting the heads around the room, there were four older women and six men. All of them seemed to be going about their own business, sipping their drinks and either talking or reading a paper.
Stop, just stop. You need to get a grip.
Cole followed my eyes, looking over his shoulder and at the tables to our right. “You look nervous, you alright?”
Lifting the cup to my lips, I blew cool air over the top. Cole's eyes watched my mouth, exploring my lips as I made a soft O, never blinking as I pressed them to the rim and took a sip.
My sex throbbed as he explored my mouth, my mind wandered to dirty thoughts and forbidden emotions. I shouldn't be feeling this way, I shouldn't be excited by how he looked at me or slowly unfurling as his breath hitched and his chest puffed up.
Swallowing the hot liquid, I cleared my throat, and ignored the impulse that crept inside to sink further into his eyes and submerse myself in his unrelenting stare.
“I'm good, thanks for asking me to do this. It's been a really long time since I've been able to just sit down with someone else. It's nice.”
Eyeing me with a curious look, his brows knitted together. “Come on, you can't tell me a girl as gorgeous as yourself hasn't been on a date recently.”
My heart slammed against my ribs as the simple four letter word spilled into my veins and worked its way into my chest. Date? This isn't a date. This is coffee, that's it.
“Date?” Lowering my lids, a flitter of excitement transcended over my skin and buzzed through my muscles. “Who said this was a date?”
Grinning, Cole took a long swig of his coffee. Swallowing it down, he hissed as the heat scorched his throat. “Two people, sitting down together, enjoying a drink. . .” Winking, his teeth burned bright behind a giant smile. “It looks like a date to me.”
“Mm, is that what you think?” I was starting to feel different. Feelings I hadn't felt in years were floating to the surface. The first being happiness.
Happiness was the first one to go when my entire world was shattered. It was ironic that it was the first one to show up right then. And I liked it, I wanted more of it, I needed more of it.
“I'm pretty sure if we were in court, I'd win this argument.” Holding his cup up high, Cole toasted with the air. “So yeah, I'd say this is our first date.”
I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the short time I spent with him just having a coffee. He was easy to talk to, I found a piece of the voice I had long forgotten. He listened and asked questions, nothing too personal, nothing too uncomfortable or awkward.
He didn't try to dive into my past and find out secrets and dirt like most people do. I heard it all the time when I was at work. Two people meeting for the first time, they always seemed to be drawn to the past.
But Cole wasn't like that. We talked about music, we talked about art and the history of the city. He knew so much about the place we shared and I soaked it all up. I liked hearing his voice and watching his lips move and curl as he formed letters.
“Thanks again for this.” Pushing the bags up my arm, I raked my fingers through my hair. “I guess I hadn't realized how much I needed this.”
“Maybe we can do it again the next time we run into each other.”
“Maybe.” Smiling, I started forward, heading back home.
He didn't ask for my number, and I didn't jump at the chance to try and give it to him. We had coffee, that was it. That didn't mean I was ready to leap back into the world and open up my door to someone I didn't know.
Cole was nice, but it had to end there. I came with too much baggage. I knew that more time together meant more chances to dig into my life. I wasn't ready to flip that page forward or backward, revealing a plethora of shit that would drive away anyone.
For now, leaving the bookmark on this page was just fine with me. This memory was good and I wanted to keep it that way. I had something good to look back on, a moment in time that I could drudge up when the old thoughts wanted to stalk in.
The three bags weren't too heavy, but navigating the lock to my building was tricky.
Fumbling with my keys, I dropped them onto the cement. “Shit.” Whispering under my breath, I leaned down to pick them up.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a figure. A thick, firm body was pressed against the side of the building across the street.
Whipping my head up, the figure ducked into the shadows, morphing from body into black mass.
Splitting the keys between my fingers, I dropped my bags and started walking forward. Holding the keys perched in my hand like a fan of razors, I tried to look into the alley.
“Hey! Hey you!” Yelling, I stalked to the edge of the sidewalk and stopped.
No one called back, no one poked their head
out to wave and acknowledge my sudden outburst. Waiting for a few cars to pass, I jogged across the road, keys firmly tucked into my palm with the sharp ends jetting out like tiny knives.
“I see you! Come out of there!”
I wasn't sure where the sudden balls came from. Normally, I would have scrambled to get inside, cowering behind closed doors and hiding behind my walls for protection.
Not today, today I felt different. I felt empowered, I felt like the cowardly lion who had found courage and was finally using it. And it felt good to feel like I was in charge, like I had taken control over something that haunted me every day—my fear of others.
I was sick of being that girl. I was sick of assuming that the bad guy was always out there someplace close by, watching and listening.
I'm done being a prisoner to myself and to my past.
I can't do it anymore.
Maybe having coffee with Cole started something else. Maybe it spoon-fed me a sliver of strength to look for answers instead of backing away from questions.
Heavy feet slammed the pavement, echoing deeper into the alley. The broad shape darted and ran, leaving me with just the impression of his back.
I might have felt braver than I ever had been, but I wasn't stupid. I wasn't about to chase a cloaked man into the darkness. The street was my safety, the light shining down and various people walking or driving by were my security.
He was gone, and following was not an option.
The realization sickened me, it drummed up an angry hoard of locusts in my stomach. The taste of bile fizzled up the back of my throat, the burning acid sat dormant on my tongue as I peered into the quiet passage between the buildings.
Did that just happen?
Is someone really out here watching me?
The question shouldn't have been if they were watching. . . I should have been asking who was watching.
Chapter Six
Cole
It's really her.
I wanted to understand what the hell was happening, but I couldn't.
Locke, that was the name she had given me, but that wasn't who I knew. When she said it, it didn't set off alarm bells or give me that moment of clarity as if I had it wrong all these years. Locke was not her name, and I wasn't wrong, it was definitely her.