26. Jenna
Chapter twenty-six
Jenna
I don’t know how it’s happened again, but Bridie’s is even busier than it was the last time Olive played a show. Security at the door even had to knock people back.
Word must’ve gotten out that her songs could be on the soundtrack of the film, because there are people here that are definitely not locals, wearing t-shirts with Olive’s name and face plastered all over them.
“Seriously, where are all these people coming from?” Lizzie asks the group of us who sit around the table, knowing damn well that we know as much as she does.
“Your guess is as good as ours, Liz. Don’t question it. Olive is in her element right now. She deserves every bit of it.” Cassandra nods her head toward their sister on stage, guitar in front of her like a shield of armor to keep her safe. She carries it everywhere she goes, and at this point, it would be like a telltale sign that something was wrong.
“Oh my God, is Olive your sister? Could we please get a photo? I can’t believe you guys know the Olive Herring!” A group of young girls squeal, fishing their phones out of their pockets while lunging in front of Cassandra and Lizzie to snap pictures.
Bea is probably kicking herself that she made this an all ages show, but the turnout speaks for itself. The amount of people here is insane.
I zone out of the fan girl conversation beside me the moment my phone lights up on the table for everyone to see. Thankfully, they’re all too preoccupied to see that Cole Green is texting me.
Yes, I bit the bullet and finally saved his number in my phone.
I had the damn thing memorized, for God's sake.
Saving it was the right thing to do.
Cole: S.O.S
I leap out of my seat when I read those three letters in his text.
Me: What’s wrong?? Is everything OK? Where are you?
Don’t panic, I remind myself. He’s probably fine.
Cole: Everything’s all good. Security won’t let me in, though, so I guess that’s an issue.
Cole: Know anyone who could help? winky face emoji
My hand flies to my chest as relief floods over me. I can feel my heartbeat colliding with my fingertips, but then I realize what just happened.
I panicked.
Because I thought there was something wrong with Cole, and that he needed me to fix whatever it was.
And he did. Only, it didn’t warrant any sort of internal reaction from me.
Instead of replying, I place my phone back on the table—face down this time—and slowly rise from my seat.
Three little letters sent me into a fucking spiral.
Who am I?
In my world, we never send an S.O.S for minor inconveniences. Whatever it is, has to be major. World changing.
But Cole wouldn’t know that, because he isn’t a part of my world. Or at least, he’s new to it.
And he’s temporary.
A blip in time. One that will be a distant memory when I’m sitting on my porch swing, living next door to my best friend when we’re old and gray, watching her kids and grandkids run rampant while I ponder over a deck of cards and a bottle of wine.
But I think a small part of me will always want to remember the time I let a man into my life for longer than a twenty-four-hour period.
The man who was supposed to be the love of my life for the night, turned into the love of my life for the morning too, and has somehow over time, become something—someone—I never expected.
The man my mind goes to when I let it wander.
Not that I let it.
But I will forget about him, because he’ll forget about me.
Ducking through the crowd of young girls, I finally make it to the door where Duncan, the security guard Harley hired for the night, stands with his hands clenched together in front of his waist. He’s squared his shoulders to make himself look more threatening. Who he’s trying to intimidate in a small town where most of Olive’s fans are young girls, I will never know, but I don’t have time to ask him about it.
“Hey, Duncan. Could you let someone in for me?” I ask, and he nods, jaw clenched firmly shut on his expressionless face. He opens the heavy wooden door, and I see the top of Cole’s head towering over a group of teenage girls who huddle around him, begging for a selfie.
“Cole,” I shout, and his head snaps my way. The forced smile on his face turns genuine, but I ignore how it makes me feel. I wave him over, and while I notice how his body relaxes, I can’t ignore how mine sets on fire.
“Hi,” he says, leaning down to kiss me, but I turn my face, forcing his kiss to land on the corner of my lips. He awkwardly clears his throat. I’m not used to any kinds of public displays of affection, fake boyfriend or not. I mean, I don’t know the rules of being friends with benefits, but I just assumed that they didn’t show affection when other people were around. That, and we’re not at work where we have to pretend to be anything.
Right here, right now, we’re friends who have had sex a couple of times.
I don’t want to risk the lines blurring for either of us.
If we start with the public displays of affection now, I might never want to stop.
I don’t have the slightest urge to find out.
“Hi,” I reply, trying to not lose my breath at the sight of him, but my eyes drink him in anyway. Checking out your fuck buddy is allowed. Acting on it, though? No, no, no.
Not for me, anyway.
“Our table is right up the front,” I say to him, taking his hand in mine, leading us to our group of friends.
“You won’t kiss me hello, but you’ll hold my hand?” He whispers in my ear, goosebumps coating every part of me, and going by the cocky smirk on his face, he absolutely knows what he’s doing to me.
“I didn’t want to lose you in the crowd and risk you sending me another S.O.S.” I roll my eyes. “Speaking of, never use an S.O.S unless it’s actually important.” I take my seat, and he sits in the one beside me I’d reserved for him earlier.
“Noted.” He nods, his jaw ticking, and we both turn our attention to watch as Olive strums the intro to her next song.
“If you know me, you know I’m not open about…well anything,” she says, and the crowd laughs quickly, eagerly hanging onto her every word. “While I like to write about my own experiences, I don’t like to sing about them. It just so happens that the people around me live very fascinating lives, so I write songs about them instead.” She giggles, winking at her sisters and me, her fingers fiddling with the knobs on the top of her guitar. “This song is called ‘Toxic Water’, and it’s about a relationship that you can’t seem to break free from, no matter how hard you try. It’s also the song I submitted for the film Two Hearts, One Town. ”
She takes a small step back from the microphone and pedal board at her feet before plucking the strings on her guitar, and the crowd falls completely silent.
When people talk about being able to hear a pin drop, you imagine hearing a faint sound of metal hitting the ground. But with the way Olive has captivated every single person in this room, I swear, you’d be able to hear someone drop a single feather.
And no one deserves it more.
***
Olive is packing up her equipment while Harley and Cassandra are talking to Bea at the bar, and Lizzie is flirting with a random guy in the back corner.
Which leaves Cole and me alone.
Together.
In a public place.
Without Olive to focus our attention on.
The way his eyes linger on my lips makes me shift in my seat. I see the want—no, need—written all over his face, and I can’t help but nibble my bottom lip. I notice his hands twitch by his sides, probably wanting to touch me as badly as I want him to, but knowing he can’t.
Not here, at least.
No one has ever made me feel this wanted.
This sexy.
This insatiable .
Still, I force myself to remember that the way he makes me feel is temporary.
Even though it is, at least I’ll know forever that I was wanted by someone for longer than a day.
“How did you get here?” Cole asks.
“I hitched a ride with the newlyweds,” I say with a smile, flicking my thumb over my shoulder toward Harley and Cassandra, who are hand in hand as they walk back over to our table.
“I have my rental car here if you want to come home with me,” he replies when they’re within earshot.
“We’re out of here, guys—early flight tomorrow,” Harley says, and Cassandra giggles as she looks up at him with hearts in her eyes. They leave for their honeymoon in Turks and Caicos for ten days, and I’m forced to be without her. Again.
“I assume you’ve got a ride?” Harley says to me before pulling me in for a hug.
“I guess I have no choice,” I reply sarcastically with a genuine laugh as he pulls back, shaking hands with Cole while Cassandra squeezes me in her arms.
“Are you going to be OK?” my best friend whispers in my ear, and I nod against the side of her head.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I whisper back, and she pulls away from me to eye me carefully.
Cassandra tilts her head to the side. “Don’t fight it, Jen. Just go with it. Let it happen.”
She’s so bossy, and so sure, and I wish I felt just a little bit of her confidence right now.
“Don’t let this,” she says, tapping my head, “Control this.” She taps my heart, and I swallow hard, scrunching up my nose.
“I will do whatever this,” I say, tapping the front of my lady bits, “tells me to do.” I laugh and she snorts, rolling her eyes. “Have fun while you’re gone. Ten whole days without you is going to suck.” I jokingly pout.
“I’ll FaceTime you on Thursday!”
“You will do no such thing. Enjoy your time as husband and wife. Drink cocktails, have lots of sex, and come back with a nice tan. Don’t forget to always wear—”
“Sunscreen. Yes, Mom, I know the drill. Love you.” She kisses my cheek, and I swat her arm. “Get my girl home safe, Green.” She briefly hugs Cole, and they head out the door.
He stares at me, waiting for me to make a move.
Any move at all.
Will I run?
Will I change my mind?
Will I tell him this whole arrangement needs to end before it’s even really begun?
I consider all my options, but when my phone rings in my hand with my mom’s name on the screen, any thoughts of running from Cole, turn to thoughts of sprinting toward him, and away from the woman who birthed me.
I hesitate, my hand subtly shaking, but he grabs it to calm me down, and I draw a deep breath.
“Hi, Becky.” I don’t want to wake the dragon by calling her mom. Heaven forbid anyone around me finds out I have a mother.
“Jennifer, I’ve been trying to reach you for days. Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” A typical greeting for her, and I puff out a breath, knowing exactly where this is going to go.
“I’ve been busy,” I remind her. “You know, with the job I’ve wanted since I was sixteen.” Not like she would know, no matter how many times I told her.
“Right. That television show. But…I need to see you. It’s important—” She’s distracted. There’s a lot of chatter in the background, which for Becky Rogers, isn’t unusual, but I can barely make out what she’s saying. Her words are hushed but slurred, like she’s drunk, and needs to be discreet about it.
“Look, I’ll be back home in California soon, for about a week. I need to check on a few things with the salon, but when I have a free day, I’ll let you know,” I tell her, eager to hang up. Cole threads his fingers through my hand that he’s been holding this whole time, leading me out of Bridie’s and away from the noisy crowd.
Sure, I held his hand on the way back to our table, but this feels different. It almost feels as though I’m clinging to him so he can protect me—comfort me—let me know I’m safe, without truly knowing what I need saving from.
“It’s just that…wait, did you say you’re coming home ? When?”
That got her attention. Being back in California means I’ll be closer to her than I am currently in Grangewood, which means she can’t just utilize my home whenever she feels the need.
“Stop beating around the bush, Mom. Spit it out. I think I’m as excited to hear about this as you are to tell me, so spill.” I sigh, forgetting I’m with company, and he probably thinks I’m a bitch for speaking to my mom in any way that isn’t respectful. But if he thought worse of me, he doesn’t show it.
“When did you say you were coming home?” she asks again. Her voice calmer this time, and that’s how I know she’s desperate.
“I don’t know. Sometime next week. I haven’t figured it out, Mom. I’m really busy. Can I call you when I get there and we can organize whatever this is?” I ask. I’m tired. I haven’t slept, and my feet hurt because I’ve been on them all day, and now I’m frustrated that she can’t seem to get the hint.
“Can you come back the week after? I’m…a little busy.”
“Sure, Mom. I’ll tell the entire cast and crew to move everything around just because the mother of the onset hairstylist is busy.” I roll my eyes, pulling my phone away from the side of my face, put it on mute, and tap it against my forehead a few times.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I force a deep breath and unmute the call, bringing it back to my ear. “If you could, that would be wonderful. Thanks, Jennifer.” She hangs up before I can tell her I was being sarcastic, and that under no circumstances would the shooting of a major film production be put on hold for that .
God, that woman irks me in ways I never knew was possible.
I still, to this day, have no idea how I came out of her and lived to tell the tale.
“Where too?” Cole asks, and I realize I’m now sitting in the passenger seat of his car.
“My place.”
He doesn’t ask about the conversation with my mom, but I know he was able to hear both sides of it.
Even so, his hand rests in my lap the entire drive back to the apartments, his thumb gliding back and forth to remind me of his presence, and I am grateful for it.
Grateful because he seemed to just know I needed the distraction, and knew he could provide it.
We got back to my place not long after, and I dragged him to my bedroom, making sure to lock my front door behind us.
And while I craved him in all the ways I’d had him before, he gave me a part of him that I didn’t realize I needed so badly.
He was slow, gentle, and careful.
But it was intense.
Passionate.
Earth shattering.
And in that moment, we no longer felt like a friends with benefits type of situation at all.