Chapter 2 Xaden #3
Instead, I’m stuck here, the kind of man who can’t even defend the person he can’t stop loving. The kind of man who hides behind silence and then hates himself for it. I’m Cole the Clueless. Adorable, yes, but otherwise just the guy who sings songs and keeps his head down.
Harmless. Forgettable. Not someone you stay for.
For four years I blamed Xaden for leaving me behind, but when it comes down to it, how hard did I actually fight for him? Or was it all just in my head and Xaden didn’t have a clue that he was my whole world? That I would’ve done anything for him. Anything.
I press my palms into the sand until they sting, and I want to scream, but I don’t.
I just get up and swallow it down like always.
I’m someone who needs to get away. Just to be able to breathe right.
XADEN
I glance up from the dock, towel rough against my face, when I see him. Cole.
Standing alone by the kiosk, a water bottle dangling from his hand.
I haven’t seen him since karaoke night. Since he sang me into oblivion with Sex on Fire. Maybe that’s why my chest feels like it’s about to combust.
Cole has always ticked all my boxes. That quiet strength, the dreamy looks, the boyish grace that’s been my downfall since the day I fled his room in the middle of algebra tutoring. And now, with the sun catching his hair, reflecting on his slender body, I feel breathless with how much I want him.
But then I notice something’s off. He’s standing too still, his knuckles pale around the bottle. He’s looking at the horizon, like he’s bracing for a wave only he can see coming.
I know that rigid posture. It’s the same one I sometimes saw in the school cafeteria, when the noise got too loud.
Or in the classroom, when Mrs. Kirkland wanted him to answer, and he forgot how to speak.
I used to know exactly what to do when that happened.
So before I can think twice, I’m already moving. It’s a reflex.
Then I halt. I’m always stepping in before he breaks. Suddenly I’m not sure if I should.
I see him taking a deliberately slow breath, shoulders squaring like he’s reminding himself he can stand tall. Still, when his eyes catch mine, I see relief. Maybe he wants me close, not as a shield or a rescuer. As a person.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, hovering between wanting to help and giving him space.
He exhales, shaky but not collapsing. “Just… noise. The questions. The gossip.” His voice wavers, but he doesn’t look away this time. He meets me straight on, like he’s daring himself not to shut down again. “And the way they all look at you like you’re… like you’re a prize to be won.”
I tilt my head, caught off guard. Not just by the words, but by the grit in his voice. That tiny flash of jealousy. “Doesn’t it get to you?” he asks.
“Sometimes,” I admit. “But I’ve survived worse than a few gawking moms.”
He nods, and then he does it. He says the thing that flips my whole damn world.
“You said moms,” he mutters. “But I’m just as bad. I can’t stop looking at you either.”
It’s quiet but not mumbling. Not denial. He puts it out there. My laugh bursts out, raw delight spilling through me.
“Did you just admit you’ve been checking me out?”
He doesn’t backpedal this time. He smirks, small but real. “Maybe I did. But it shouldn’t be a newsflash to you that I think you’re hot.”
Jesus. I’m done for.
Who is this merciless flirt and what have they done to Cole Hudson?
“Then keep doing it,” I tell him softly, no teasing in my voice. “Look at me as much as you want.”
His eyes lift, meeting mine, and something molten sparks there. I’m on fire.
Cole doesn’t need saving.
He’s standing right in front of me, holding his ground, flirting with me in his own hesitant, devastating way.
I force myself to ask, “Where’s Noah?”
“Volcano duty. J?rgen’s watching.” Then Cole adds, lips twitching: “He’s married, by the way. To Linda.”
He’s teasing me back. Holy hell. He’s actually teasing me.
I huff a laugh. “Was I that obvious?”
“A little,” he admits, blush spreading but his grin stays. Then, like he’s reminding himself of the world outside us, he steps back. “I should go. Thanks for… the company.”
“Anytime,” I say, grinning helplessly, watching him walk away.
I stand there for a long time, towel forgotten in my hands, my whole chest caving in. Because for the first time in a long time, I don’t just feel hope. I feel… awe.
Cole Hudson just flirted with me.
I swear there aren’t enough chilis in this world to rate the hotness.
COLE
By the time I get back to the others, they are in a heated debate about the school’s ‘color palette policy’. We don’t have one. But according to Becky, we desperately need it.
“Color choices communicate values,” she says.
“So what we need is a committee for each age group and subcommittees for space purpose and balance. The poor teachers in Baywood are overworked as it is, and the last thing they need is the stress of managing color palette policy planning. It’s up to us, the good people of PTA, to help them. ”
Most of the parents just look at her, overwhelmed and probably thinking is participation compulsory, but Michael, dead serious, asks: “Is there a color that enhances a child’s ability to hold their breath underwater?”
“Yes, orange,” Becky fires away like she had a clue. “Oh, that reminds me, Rhodes showed incredible color instincts when he had his finger-painting phase. Talk about throwing a hissy fit if I gave him the wrong yellow!”
J?rgen and I start packing the kids’ toys away, determined to make a run for it before Becky places us in one of the various committees she mentioned.
I’m just buckling Noah into his seat when Lottie’s mom walks over.
“I apologize on everyone’s behalf,” she says quietly. “I don’t even know what it is about Xaden Bailey that makes us so… I don’t want to say obsessed, but that’s kind of what I’m thinking.”
My first reaction is to mumble thanks and flee.
Instead, high on some bravery fumes from before, I say: “I appreciate you saying that. But the way you guys talk about Xaden and our relationship is actually very intrusive and makes me uncomfortable.” I can hear my voice shaking, but the words are steady.
It’s a small thing, barely a ripple in the Baywood gossip machine, but it feels like a tectonic shift inside me.
Lottie’s mom nods, taking it in her stride. I feel taller than ever.
A few minutes in, Noah’s already asleep, cheeks sticky with juice and streaked with sand. He’s holding his T-Rex in a death grip. The poor thing had to wait in the car today. I’m not risking another archaeological dig after last time.
We spent two hours searching for it. Becky organized the effort like a professional event coordinator.
She turned it into a treasure hunt, got all the kids involved.
It was Luca who eventually found it, and Michael immediately started talking about archaeology as a career path and whether modern-day Indiana Joneses make six figures.
I bought celebratory ice cream for everyone.
It was actually kind of fun. You can think what you want about Becky Fairweather but when it comes to organizing, she’s undefeated.
On a whim, I take the long way home. There’s a McDonald’s in South Ridge, and I figure I’ll surprise Noah with a Happy Meal when he wakes up.
Also, I need a little time.
To drive. To breathe. To process.
I’m talking about the flirting. Because that was flirting, right?
I have never been able to flirt on purpose.
Xaden’s mastered the winks, the lazy smiles, the smoldering looks and having the kind of biceps I’d like to… bite.
Me? I’ve never been smooth.
Xaden could flirt the church ladies out of their favorite pews if he wanted, but when I try, I sound like I’ve just experienced physical contact for the first time since birth.
And God help me; my brain always serves up the worst possible things to say.
Like, I could totally see myself blurting the bicep-biting thing.
Or admitting how I once thought I’d like to taste his back.
So yeah. My flirting is basically a 911 call of awkwardness.
Something about today felt different, though. Maybe because I was angry. Maybe because I was tired of hiding. Who knows. Who cares. Because whatever that was — it worked. Xaden liked it. I mean, really liked it. I could tell. I’m blushing just thinking about his reaction.
Was it smart? Flirting with him after telling him he can’t be in my life? Uh, no. Just like it wasn’t smart to sing Sex on Fire with my eyes glued to him, making the whole damn song about us.
About this pull we’ve never been able to fight.
I exhale, braking at the drive-thru, and roll down my window. The smell of fries drifts in through the window, but my appetite vanishes. Because I see them — Xaden’s prison buddies, JJ and Ronnie.
They’re standing near the parking lot, leering like they invented the Big Mac.
Talking to Sheriff Willard.
Not arguing. Not being arrested. Talking. Laughing. Like old friends.
My fingers tighten on the wheel. I sink down slightly, willing the car to blend into the shadows.
What the hell is our sheriff doing with them?
By the time the food comes, I’ve run through three worst-case scenarios and swallowed my panic twice. I drive away fast, hoping they didn’t notice me.
My heart’s still racing. Does Xaden know?
XADEN
The town square is buzzing, louder and heavier than usual. The air is sticky with maple-glazed donuts, iced drinks, and nostalgia.
It’s Baywood’s annual Summer Sip little details he wants me to catch in the wild.