by Blair Holden
I slap his chest and push away. “Firstly, I’m five seven, so calling me ‘shortcake’ doesn’t make sense, and second, don’t touch me ever again, Stone, or I will castrate you.”
“Seriously, the only girl who could want harm to come to my balls would be Tessie, but you aren’t her . . .”
“No, I’m her evil Russian twin, Svetlana, and I’m here to kill you in your sleep,” I growl at him.
“The sarcasm, the threat to my balls, and calling me nincompoop when you want to curse so badly. You really are Tessie, aren’t you?” he says like he’s in shock.
In his defense, the last time he saw me I weighed as much as two sumo wrestlers and proudly sported a double chin. My hair had always been stuck in the unfashionable bob while now it reached my waist. It’s soaked and frizzing at the speed of sound, but it’s still long.
“Oh, I’m so grateful that you believe me, now get out of my way.”
“Tessie, you look different,” he says, still looking slightly dazed, turning a deaf ear to all the profanities coming out of my mouth as I realize that my teeth are chattering.
I try not to blush when under his attention, but he’s basically the first guy to notice me and my cheeks can’t help but heat up. I cannot seriously be blushing because of something Cole Stone said. That’s sacrilege.
But he’s here. He’s actually here, in the flesh, and I’m blushing, for crying out loud.
“Well, that’s more than what I can say for you; you’re still as ugly as ever.” I stick my tongue out at him and he smirks, bloody conceited jerk.
“That doesn’t seem to be a popular opinion. In fact, the women I know have referred to me as a god on multiple occasions.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I feel my dinner coming back up.
“Okay, all right, way too much information. You’re making me sick, and I should leave before I throw up.”
“Like you did in third grade during your memorable performance as Snow White?” he says innocently and I glare at him.
“You! You gave me that rancid cupcake; I did not throw up because of nerves.”
Although chances are that the cupcake was perfectly fine and I did throw up because of nerves, but I will never admit that to him.
“Whatever you want to believe, sweetheart.”
I groan and push past him, heading for the door. But it just so happens to open before I can get to it, and with my luck being as brilliant as it is, Jay walks inside. Of course he looks edible in his jeans and muscle tee. I temporarily forget my current state of distress and openly ogle him.
“Tessa?” His eyes widen as he takes in my appearance. Great, just great. The one time I run into him without Nicole standing over his shoulder, I look like a dog that’s just been hosed and then dipped in green Jell-O. Oh, the joys of being Tessa O’Connell.
“Hi, Jay,” I say stupidly and give him a small smile. He smiles back awkwardly and we stand in silence just staring at each other. It’s the perfect silence, the kind that is in all the romance novels I read. It’s the kind that is only interrupted when the guy kisses the girl and everything becomes magical.
However, this one ends because Cole starts making fake gagging sounds.
This is my version of a romance novel, and it would make the publishers of Harlequin shed tears of blood.
“You guys are pathetic.” He pretends to choke, and I wish he really would. Jay glares at him and strides past me to hit him on the back of his head.
“I thought I told you to leave her alone,” he growls, but Cole just rolls his eyes.
“You’re jealous, aren’t you? Christ, what’s wrong with you?” he says to his stepbrother, who averts his gaze shamefully.
“Why would I be jealous?”
I immediately wince at the lack of care in Jay’s voice, but try not to show the hurt.
“You would care or wouldn’t be nearly this blind if you could escape the leash your girlfriend’s got you on.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I see Jay’s temper rising but the conversation has stopped making sense to me.
“I know enough, bro.” Cole pats Jay’s shoulder in fake sympathy.
“Come on, shortcake, let me get you some dry clothes before you become a human Popsicle.” He says this without taking his eyes off his brother. Both seem to be involved in some sort of staring contest, but it’s Jay who gives up first and turns to face me.
“You can come with me. I’ll get you a towel and maybe a different set of clothes,” he says kindly, and I nod eagerly before Cole snorts and destroys the moment once again.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jay Jay. What will your girlfriend say when she finds out you’ve been spending time with Tessie here?”
I’m about to tell him off and say that Jay isn’t afraid of Nicole and that he can be friends with me without thinking about how Nicole would react. But the hesitation that comes across his face is like a punch to the stomach as I realize that Cole’s hit the nail right on the head. Jay pulls away from me like there’s some sort of invisible force field between us.
A force field named Nicole Andrea Bishop.
Before I know it, Cole’s tugging me by the hand and guiding me up to his room. I keep my eyes on Jay even though he’s trying to look anywhere but at me. I’m in love with the guy but sometimes I wish he was stronger than this.
Cole pulls me into his room, or what looks like the framework of one. White sheets cover the bed and the two-seater while boxes are lined up everywhere. A thin film of dust coats every visible surface, and I wrinkle my nose when I notice the pigsty that is his floor. Clothes are strewn all over it and I tiptoe carefully, hoping to avoid coming across his underwear.
Cole is digging into one of the boxes and produces a hoodie. “Catch, shortcake,” he says, but with my reflexes, the hoodie smacks me right in the face, nearly blinding me in the process.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice muffled by the fabric as I escape into the nearest bathroom to change out of my wet shirt. I turn the faucet on and splash some cold water on my face. I’m feeling a bit dazed, the twilight zone lingers in the periphery. Since when is Cole nice? Okay, so he’s being nice after turning me into a wet poodle, but I know what I saw in his interaction with Jay. It looked like he was standing up for me. But why?
Scratch that, I’m not analyzing his actions. He belongs in the one confined box in my head, the one for people I severely dislike.
When I come back, Cole is lying down on his bed staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped beneath his head. He smirks slightly as I enter, and props himself up on one elbow.
“This is the part where I say you look sexier in my clothes than I ever did, but the narcissist in me won’t let me do that.”
“I’d rather you not.”
“No, I’m serious, Tessie, you’ve really changed. And before you start calling me a shallow pig, what I mean is that you just stood up to me and I didn’t expect that.”
“So the water dumping was some kind of twisted experiment? To see how I would react? You do realize how wrong that sounds, don’t you?”
“Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have done that—scratch that, it was a stupid move. Would you believe me if I said that I was nervous?”
He sounds serious, and for a moment I let myself believe that he means everything he says. I let myself believe that he might actually have a human side to him. I don’t often let myself make excuses for his actions, and before knowing that he would be coming back I had managed to forget about our history. But this moment feels different, he seems different.
“So, what? You want me to believe that I make you nervous?”
At first he seems at a loss for an answer but then he says, “So do math tests, so you shouldn’t really conflate that with me actually liking you.”
Then again, I’d rather just slap him than have him say nice or crude things to me.
“I would rather pull my teeth out with pliers than ever imagine being someone you liked in any sen
se, Stone.” I cross my arms in front of my chest to look intimidating.
“Oh, but you like me, don’t you? After all those years of verbal sparring and pranks, I think your heart may have warmed toward me at some point. I won’t blame you, though.”
I scoff at his arrogance and realize that I’m just killing brain cells by trying to reason with him, so I decide to make a run for it.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure having you back to ruin my life, but I need to go before I strangle you.”
“Kinky.” He winks at me and I throw my hands in the air, exasperated to a point where the instinct to just put an end to his life is uncannily strong.
“Good-bye, Cole.”
I turn on my heel and slam his door shut as he chuckles behind me. I have been in the house for no more than thirty minutes but it feels like I’ve been going at it with Cole for centuries. A dull ache is spreading through my skull as I realize that today’s only the first of many to come and that he’s back for good. Any peace and quiet that I had expected in my senior year evaporated the minute He-devil decided to return to our great town. I’d learned to deal with Nicole, albeit in the most cowardly way ever, but we were coexisting and it’s been okay. Apparently my carefully constructed habitat is about to be bulldozed by a certain blue-eyed miscreant.
There are no signs of Jay as I’m leaving. His lack of presence is morbidly depressing.
I’m on their driveway when the devil reappears. Cole calls my name as he sticks his head out of his bedroom window. That’s how he knew I was in the house when he tipped the bucket over me, sneaky bastard.
“What?” I shout as he grins at me with that devil-may-care smile.
“How about I give you a ride to school tomorrow? We can begin the beautiful journey that is our new, everlasting friendship.”
“What makes you think I’d even sit in a car with you, let alone go for a twenty-minute drive?”
“Hey, it was just an offer. I know we’ve got a long way to go but it was worth a shot, right? I figure if I begin trying early, you might warm up to the idea eventually.”
“You’re crazy!”
“No, Tessie, but I am fond of the ‘so crazy it just might work approach.’”
The entire conversation consists of us yelling sentences to each other, and it isn’t long before a woman with graying hair comes out of the adjacent house. She’s tugging her robe tighter around herself and yelling at us “filthy teenagers” to shut our traps. Cole disappears from my view and I like to think that the old lady scared him, but in a minute or two he’s downstairs and out the door, slightly breathless as though he ran. He walks toward me and I feel the need to disappear beneath his mammoth hoodie.
“Now that we have that sorted out,” he runs a hand through his hair as though nervous, “I’d like to be friends. What I just did up there with the water? It was stupid. So how about we try another route?”
He extends his hand toward me and I look at it like it’s been infected by zombies, contagious zombies. He must have seen the look on my face, as he lets out a laugh.
“I don’t have any life-threatening diseases, Tessie. It’s just a handshake.”
“I’m sorry, but given our history, you might understand why I’m a little skeptical of your newfound desire for friendship.”
He nods and an emotion passes across his face that I can’t decipher. It couldn’t possibly be hurt, right? He withdraws his hand and we stand there awkwardly. I refuse to feel bad about what I’ve just done and so turn around and begin walking home.
“See you tomorrow, shortcake,” he says to my retreating figure and I wince. One more year of him, just one more year, I could totally get through this. Right?
Chapter Three: Death by Spearmint—I’d Revolutionize the World of Crime
I can honestly say that I’m not the lightest of sleepers. In fact, a crane could scoop out the roof of my house and I’d sleep through it because that’s just how I am. It’s purely genetic. We all cherish sleep a lot more than regular people, and my brother took his love for it the extra mile since all he ever does is sleep; well, get hopelessly drunk and then sleep.
Now, this hereditary love of sleep would explain the amount of hatred I would harbor for any person who wakes me up before I absolutely have to. Anyone and everyone who knows me well enough knows better than to mess with my sleep. You can bully me all you want, you can call me all the names in the world, and you can also so cruelly snatch the love of my life away from me, but you just cannot wake me up when I don’t want to be woken up.
Sadly, one person didn’t get the memo, and the fact that it’s my own mother makes it worse.
“Time to wake up honey, we’ve got someone waiting for you at breakfast.”
I do some mental calculations and lift my head from the most comfortable pillow on earth to take a look at the alarm clock that sits on my bedside table. I’m right, I do have fifteen more precious minutes of sleep that are being rather cruelly snatched from me. I don’t care if it’s the president waiting to share oatmeal with me, I would rather sleep. That is exactly what I tell my mom.
However, she refuses to take no for an answer, or leave my room for that matter. Having never been the nurturing sort, Mom hasn’t woken me up for school in a long time, and I think she’s still stuck at a place where I’m six and throwing a tantrum about not wanting to go to school. She rips the covers off me.
“It’s rude to keep guests waiting, Tessa. Please get dressed and come down.”
My early morning now effectively ruined, I grudgingly get ready and stomp downstairs, ready to chew out the person who has upset my morning routine.
Of course it’s Cole Stone.
“You!” I seethe, having gotten over the shock of seeing him in my dining room pretty quickly. Luckily, Mom is out of earshot and doesn’t hear me be rude to our ‘guest’. He’s casually helping himself to a generous serving of eggs and bacon while I plot ways to make him choke on his coffee.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss as I stride toward him.
“Your dad asked mine if I could drive you to school today. He said he wouldn’t be able to drive you because he had to leave early for work and your mom’s car is stuck at the mechanic’s. Does this ring a bell at all?”
I shake my head. “No, he never mentioned that last night.” How very convenient, well played, Father.
“My dad told me you were waiting for me. Uh, that’s why I’m here bright and early.”
Somehow I find myself believing him, because I know that my dad is capable of doing this. He’s had some strange matchmaking fetish for me and one of the Stone boys, and maybe this is him attempting to set me up with Cole. He’s the one I’m angry with, not Cole, because it looks like Cole’s as clueless as I am. Begrudgingly, I let him eat as I head to the kitchen to grab some food for myself, but the weirdness of him being in my house and us being civil to one another never goes away.
***
The thing about my mom is that she never cooks. Any maternal instinct that might tempt her to want to care for her children enough to feed them is long since gone. I know from experience she’s a terrific cook. But somewhere down the line, she stopped being the mom who used to make dinner every night and insist that we all sit together and eat.
Seeing the spread on our table right now, I can’t help but feel jealous as I realize that Mom would cook for Cole and not for our family. It’s stupid, I know. My family’s problems won’t be solved by over casserole. But I need a scapegoat for all the resentment I’m feeling, and it now seems to be directed toward Cole. Cole, who seems to be oblivious to all the tension surrounding him and is plowing through his breakfast like a tractor on crack.
“So Cole, what are your plans for college?”
My mom’s question takes me by surprise since she has shown negligible interest in my future plans. She doesn’t even know what classes I’m taking for senior year or that I’m a straight-A student. I sigh internally and try not to drown in self-pity
. It makes sense that mom is sucking up to him. He is, after all, the sheriff’s son, and the sheriff is a very important man in the world of small-town politics.
Cole stops inhaling his food and disarms my mom with a charming smile.
“I haven’t actually planned anything. I might not even go to college this year, you know. I’m thinking about taking a year off. Maybe go backpacking through Europe, see the world.”
I snort in disbelief. “Backpacking through Europe? Only people who don’t have the grades to get into college use that excuse.”
My mother gives me an admonishing look and I realize she’s warning me to back off. I pout like a stubborn child and cross my arms over my chest, matching her stare. I’ve told her before that I will not under any circumstances suck up to Cole Stone. There’s nothing on the planet that could make me be nice to the one guy who’s taken it upon himself to make every waking hour of my life difficult. If my mom thinks I’m going to become Cole’s best buddy, then she is obviously delusional.
“Tess, sweetie, about that car you wanted for your birthday . . .” She trails off, on purpose, no doubt, but her words have the desired effect. I freeze, my fork stopping halfway in the air as my mother smirks at me from across the table.
She wouldn’t . . .
All year long I’d been saving up for the most beautiful Range Rover Sport. My dream car is also why I’ve let myself be driven to school right up until my senior year. It’s not that my parents couldn’t get me a car, but I want the car and so I still get rides to school at eighteen. I practiced driving with my parents’ cars regularly just so that when I finally owned my Range Rover, I wouldn’t let that beauty down. However, in the end my savings had been somewhat meager and my parents stepped in to stop me from sinking into depression. They promised me that I could have the car for my birthday, no strings attached. I’d been floating on cloud nine, dreaming of me and my car cruising down the highway with the wind blowing in my hair and Maroon 5 blasting from the radio . . .