Chapter 10
ten
Reese
Is reverse altitude sickness a thing?
I was up in the clouds a minute ago, but my feet have hit the ground, and I’m trying to figure out where I am. Who I am.
Before the kiss, I was Reese, co-conspirator in a game of fake dating.
Now?
My heart is on its merry way to the dumpster fire in Cole’s backyard.
He, on the other hand, is making jokes and excited to put on the world’s most hideous sweater.
Heartbreaker indeed.
I know we had to sell the kiss. That’s not the problem.
The problem is that I’m the one who bought it. Hook, line, and sinker.
I force a laugh for Cole’s next joke even though I have no clue what he said.
“The timing of this thing between you two is too perfect,” Tess says, leading the way out of the bedroom.
I try to keep my voice casual as I follow her. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on,” she says. “You get Cole for Christmas?”
“Guess you were on the naughty list,” Dylan teases.
The way I reacted to that kiss, I definitely feel a little bit naughty. It seems wrong to enjoy something fake as much as I enjoyed that.
But it’s not just the kiss. I like all of it.
I like being with Cole. I like playing off each other. I like the conversation we had last night before we fell asleep. I like the way he makes me feel normal—no, better than normal.
I just like…him.
But it’s all staged, just like Cole’s house before I bought it. And staged homes are meant to be sold, not lived in. They’re meant to be so appealing, you can’t help but want to make them yours. To settle in and get comfortable.
But the moment you actually start living life in that home, it gets messy. The illusion is ruined.
Cole and I don our punishment sweaters—mine comes down past my knees—and the group heads onto the back deck for a group photo. It’s absolutely frigid outside, and only Tyler’s forethought to salt the deck prevents the group from ending in a mass of hurting bodies.
We’ve done a photo like this every year since we started, but our group has doubled in size since last time.
Hannah gets the tripod, her phone, and the timer ready to go, while we all get situated.
Cole and I are on the end, and he puts his arm around my shoulders.
Feeling a flutter of nerves that annoys the crap out of me, I slip an arm around his waist.
Hannah scans the group and laughs. “Stop breathing so hard, everyone, or we’ll be nothing but a cloud. Okay, here we go! Hold your breath!” She taps the shutter button, then runs to take her place with Tyler.
I smile for the camera, and Cole wraps his other arm around me and leans his head against mine just before the shutter clicks.
I wait to see if Megan suggests taking at least one picture without Cole and Brady.
She doesn’t, though, and I won’t be the one to suggest it.
I have no clue how I’ll feel in five years when we look back on these pictures and see Brady and Cole in them. Maybe Megan and Brady will be married by then.
And Cole…I have no idea where he’ll be. But, for better or worse, I’ll have this picture as a keepsake.
The group breaks apart with Hannah’s reminder that we’ll be playing card games, then doing dinner, then having hot tub night.
Cole makes no move to go back inside, and even though I’m freezing, I stay back with him.
The door shuts behind Dylan, and I turn to find Cole standing at the edge of the porch, looking out toward the trees and the snowy ground.
“Still too cold to leave,” he says.
“Yep,” I agree, wondering how he feels about it.
He turns to look at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say energetically. “Of course.”
The way he looks at me, I’m not sure he believes me.
“Are you?” I ask.
“Never better,” he says with a smile.
I do believe him. This isn’t fazing him at all. He’s out here having a grand old time while I fall for my fake boyfriend.
He points at me, icy blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That face you’re making right now? That’s what I’m talking about. Are you sure you’re okay? Did I do something weird when I kissed you?”
“What? No!” I kind of wish he had.
“Did I go overboard?”
I laugh, my cheeks warming. “Cole, the kiss was fine.”
Fine. Never has a more lackluster word been used for a kiss that makes my legs weak just thinking about it.
“Fine,” he repeats. “So…not great.”
I shut my eyes in consternation and smile. “It was perfect, okay?” When I open my eyes, he’s watching me.
He nods. “That’s what I thought, too.”
My heart skips, trips, and loses its rhythm for a few seconds. What does he mean? Perfect as in it was the perfect kiss? Or perfect as in it was the perfect fake kiss?
It’s a big difference, and I’m desperate to know which, to know how many people he’s kissed perfectly.
Desperate enough to do a little prodding. “Is that why Bree came to my house? Because she was hoping for another kiss like that?” I aim for teasing, but the jealous edge slips through.
Something flickers on Cole’s face. “I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone like that.”
There goes my heart again. With how often it’s giving out today, maybe a dumpster fire is the right place for it.
Cole’s smile turns teasing as he takes two steps toward me. “Is all of this your way of saying you’d like to come back for more?”
I laugh, my cheeks Christmas red as I look up at him. “Keep dreamin’.”
He meets my eyes. “I will.”
I feel warm and jittery all through an intense game of nerts, food prep, and dinner.
It’s probably this ridiculously hot sweater and a strong dose of cabin fever.
I refuse to accept that it’s connected to the guy sitting next to me or the way my body tracks every touch point between us—every bump of our knees, every square inch of contact on our arms—like I’m logging data in a scientific study that relies on 100% accuracy.
And when he and I catch eyes, and his linger on me for a second longer than I expect…it’s all I can do to keep from running back to the porch for a gulp of icy air.
Dinner gets cleaned up, and everyone goes to change into their swimsuits. While Cole’s in the bathroom, I pull out my phone and open Instagram to distract myself.
I go still.
The first picture that pops up is of Cole and me, his lips pressed to my cheek.
I remember taking the picture, obviously, but it’s weird seeing it. Seeing us.
We look so happy—at least I do. It’s harder to tell with him, since his face is turned and his mouth is…otherwise engaged. There are a lot of likes and a number of comments—none from anyone whose handle is obviously Bree, though.
I swipe to get a different image in my brain and a better hold on myself. It’s been all of twenty-four hours since we arrived, and I’ve basically turned into Bree. Next thing you know, I’ll be following Cole home and keeping my thermostat on 85.
The door opens, and he comes out of the bathroom, a swimsuit on and his torso bare. The evidence that his job involves the regular use of power tools and carrying heavy loads is written all over his chest and abs.
“Your turn,” he says, throwing a towel over his shoulder.
“I’ll meet you out there,” I say.
“Nah. I’ll wait.”
“Go save us a spot,” I argue. “Eight people will be a tight fit in that hot tub, and I want a spot by the jets.”
Seeing my point, he grabs another towel for me and leaves the room.
I look at the swimsuit I brought, imagining it on these pasty winter legs and a stomach full of dinner.
I’m not particularly thrilled with my figure at this stage of my life, but I live in that thrilling and confusing space of simultaneous dissatisfaction with my body and determination to defiantly exist in it despite that.
I also know that any man whose feelings for me—even the fake kind—are poorly affected by how I look in a swimsuit isn’t worth my energy.
So, I put it on and don’t let myself spend more than ten seconds looking in the mirror before heading out to join the others. I stop in front of the back door.
Apparently, I sent Cole prematurely. It’s just Megan, Brady, and him there. They’re chatting while Brady’s hand plays with the braid hanging over Meg’s shoulder.
I feel a little sting in my chest. It’s not even because I want him.
It’s because I want that. The easy, cozy comfort of being with someone who wants and accepts you.
“You coming out?” Hannah asks, gripping the towel around her waist with one hand while she opens the door with her other.
“Yep.”
The air bites every inch of exposed skin, and I scramble into the hot tub. Cole helps me with a hand on my back and an amused smile.
“Better?” he asks as I slink down into the water.
“The best,” I say, letting my eyes shut with warm relief.
Soon, the hot tub is nearly overflowing thanks to the sheer number of bodies in it. There’s barely any space between couples, and Brady pulls a laughing Megan onto his lap as a way to make space. Allegedly.
He whispers something in her ear, and she laughs some more.
I feel Cole’s arm slip around my shoulder, and I look up at him.
By the way he’s looking at me, I know he saw me watching them.
I smile and interlace my fingers with his, hoping it’s enough to reassure him I’m fine. If Cole has a two-date policy, I can only imagine how he’d feel if he knew what sort of thoughts were filtering through my head about him. About us.
I need the weather to change…like now. I need it to be 55 degrees and sunny so we can get the heck out of Dodge, and I can…
clean some nasty teeth or something. It’s hard to feel swept off your feet when you’re wrist deep in someone’s mouth, cleaning teeth that have never seen a string of dental floss.
The hot tub is full of laughter and ridiculous stories—many of them about past years’ shenanigans—but after twenty minutes, people start to get out.
Thank the heavens. If I have to watch Brady kiss the spot beneath Megan’s ear one more time, I’ll lose it.
I push myself up to beat Megan and Brady out of the tub, but Cole’s grip on my fingers tightens.
Wait, his eyes say.
I relent, and Megan and Brady get out.
“You guys staying in?” Brady asks.