20. Cole #2
I put my jacket on, tuck my helmet under my arm, and grab my keys. I jog down the stairs and push through the front door—only to freeze in place.
Because my bike is parked exactly where I left it. Except straddling the seat, with her fingers curled around the handlebars, is Aurora.
I stand there for a minute, not saying a damn thing, just watching her, trying to figure out whether she’s real or another hallucination I’ve conjured out of sheer frustration.
When her eyes finally lift and lock onto mine, her mouth curves in a smirk.
“Get off my bike.” The words are dragged through my teeth.
She kicks her heel against the metal and cocks her head. “Or what? You’ll spank me?” A wicked smile tugs at her lips. “We both know I like that.”
Yeah. My cock remembers that just fine.
My jaw ticks, but I don’t give her a reaction. “What the hell are you doing here, Prescott?”
She shrugs, her eyes roaming down my chest. “Got bored.”
Ah. She wants to fuck.
“Go find your boy Miller, then.”
She doesn’t even acknowledge what I’ve said, turning her attention back to my bike as she runs her fingers along the handlebars. “This is a nice bike,” she says, glancing back at me through her lashes. “Take me for a ride?”
I should say no. Tell her to get the fuck off and head to the shop.
Instead, I sigh—already annoyed at myself—and step toward her, lowering the helmet onto her head.
I adjust the strap beneath her chin while she watches me through her lashes, eyes too blue, too pretty, too aware of the effect she has on me.
I look away quickly and swing a leg over the bike, feeling her settle in behind me. I turn the key and the engine growls to life beneath us as I ease us away from the curb.
I’ve never had anyone on the bike with me before. It’s always been me and the road and whatever speed it takes to burn the noise out of my head. Tonight, there’s someone else, someone I shouldn’t even be around, her breath fanning against my neck through the helmet every time we hit a bump.
So I keep my speed slower than usual, making sure I’m not going to send her flying if I take a corner wrong. Don’t want her death on my hands.
But apparently, Aurora isn’t as concerned about safety, because a minute later I feel her hand slide down, fingers tracing the waistband of my jeans, before she cups my dick over the denim.
My grip stutters on the handlebars.
“Get your hand off me before we crash,” I bite out.
She laughs into my ear. “Scared?”
I twist the throttle, harder than necessary, and the bike surges forward, the wind slamming into us. She lets out a sharp little gasp, her arms flying tighter around my torso. I let out a chuckle and take the next turn too sharp on purpose, just to hear her yelp and feel her grip tighten around me.
“Where the hell are we going?” she asks, tightening her hold on me.
I don’t answer, cutting down a side street a few minutes later. I kill the engine when we pull up to the old abandoned bowling alley, and the sudden silence rings in my ears.
For a second, she doesn’t move. Her hands stay right where they are, her fingers splayed against my stomach. But then she slides off the seat, tugging the helmet free and shaking her hair out.
She looks around, brows lifting as she takes in the boarded-up windows and the faded neon sign. “You bring all your victims here, Ellis?”
“Relax,” I mutter, shoving the keys into my pocket before throwing out my gum. “If I was gonna kill you, I wouldn’t waste gas doing it.”
I head toward the back, the gravel crunching under my shoes, and I hear her follow. Once I get to the door, I shoulder open the side door where the lock is busted and step inside.
“Place has been abandoned for years,” I say, kicking aside a crushed beer can that skitters across the floor. “But once a month, some guys clean it up, party their asses off, and leave it looking like shit again.”
She follows behind, scanning the place. “Well,” she says, stepping over a tipped barstool, “can’t say I’ve ever been here.”
“I know.” I shoot her a look. “It was the only place I could go without seeing you.”
First time I saw her at Colton U, I lost my shit.
I hadn’t seen her—or Chase—since that night in high school when everything went to shit.
I’d left for Colton a few months later, telling myself I’d be done with them.
Sure, I played against Chase sometimes and saw her hanging around the stands, but I could walk away after the game.
Imagine my surprise when I saw Chase’s girlfriend at Colton U a year later.
I couldn’t stand looking at her. Couldn’t stomach the reminder of what she did. And suddenly she was everywhere—at parties, at the bar, hanging with my teammates.
So this became the only place I could breathe. The only place I could get drunk and forget the things I’d spent years trying to forget.
I blow out a breath, forcing my shoulders to loosen. Now it seems like all I do is look for her.
“Does this still work?” Aurora asks, bringing me back, standing in front of the middle lane.
I reach behind the pillar and flip the one breaker in this place that still works. A low hum fills the alley, then the old lights flicker on overhead, washing everything in that dim blue glow.
“You wanna play?” I ask her.
She gives me a little shrug, steps forward, and grabs a ball from the rack. She takes a couple of steps forward and swings, sending the ball down the lane. It veers left and knocks over… maybe like three pins?
I blow a quiet laugh through my nose. “Christ, Prescott. You suck.”
She shoves at my chest, narrowing her eyes. “Alright, Reaper. Let’s see how you do.”
“You remember what happened when you challenged me at pool?” I arch a brow.
Her look sharpens, heat flickering in her eyes. “I remember what happened afterward.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw. Yeah. I remember that night, too. Remember thinking one time would burn her out of my system.
What a goddamn idiot I was.
I grab a ball and line it up, but just as I’m about to take the shot, Aurora drifts into my space, sliding her hand over my back, making me shiver.
I glance at her. “What are you doing?”
“Me?” She blinks up at me. “I’m not doing anything.”
Bullshit.
I tear my eyes off her and try to focus as I throw the ball. It knocks out most of the pins—except for two on opposite ends.
I huff out a laugh when I turn around and see a smirk tugging at her lips.
“You were saying?” she chirps.
I shake my head, trying to fight the urge to smile. Christ. This shit is so weird. I never thought I’d be having fun with Aurora Prescott, of all people.
“I knew bringing you was a mistake.”
“You invited me,” she says with a shrug.
I start to tell her I didn’t invite her anywhere, that she invited herself onto my bike, but the words die before they ever make it past my teeth.
Because she’s not wrong.
I could’ve told her to get off. Could’ve told her to walk home, or go fuck Holden Miller and leave me the hell alone.
But I didn’t.
I head for the vending machine by the entrance, pry open the busted front, and reach inside. I grab a bag of chips and a Diet Coke, then turn, toss the chips to her, and hold out the can.
“You like Diet Coke, right?”
She looks at it, then up at me. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
Because I’ve been paying attention to her for years. More than I ever should have. More than I wanted to.
I shrug and shut the vending machine door. “Lucky guess. C’mon,” I say, jerking my chin toward the narrow hallway at the back of the alley.
We pass the arcade machines that haven’t worked in years, heading toward the concrete stairwell tucked at the back.
“Where are we going?” she asks when I step back and let her go up first.
“You’ll see.”
She glances back at me over her shoulder. “You know that’s exactly what serial killers say, right?”
I scoff and follow her up the stairs. At the top, she pushes open the rusted door, and the hinges let out a long groan that makes it sound as if nobody’s touched it in months, which isn’t true, since I was up here two nights ago.
I step out onto the roof, sidestepping the busted AC units before I drop onto the ledge and swing my legs over the side. She follows a second later and settles beside me, folding her legs under herself.
I tear open the chips and look out at the buildings stretching across the city under the darkening sky and the streetlights flickering on below us.
For a minute, neither of us says anything. We just eat in silence. When the wind picks up, she draws her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them.
I let out a sigh, shrug off my jacket, and drape it over her shoulders before she can pull away.
Her brows draw together as she looks at me. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I’m aware,” I say, bracing myself back on my hands.
“Then why did you?”
“I’m doing something nice, Prescott.” I shoot her a look. “Just accept it and stop arguing with me for once.”
Her mouth twitches, some of the fight bleeding out of her eyes. She tugs my jacket tighter over her shoulders and presses her lips together. “Thanks,” she murmurs.
I just nod and look away.
She shifts beside me, tucking her knees in a little more. “When did you buy the bike?” she asks.
“A couple months ago,” I say. “I’d been saving for a while. Found it cheap from some guy who clearly had no idea what the hell he had. It was missing a few parts and needed work, but…” I shrug. “I know a guy.”
“Of course you do,” she scoffs. “You realize that thing is a death trap, right?”
I arch a brow and glance over at her. “Pretty sure that death trap got you here in one piece, Prescott.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. I’ve heard so many horror stories. My mom’s best friend’s son—”
“Let me guess,” I cut in. “He wasn’t wearing a helmet and took a corner so fast that it knocked him on his ass?”
She squints at me. “I mean, he wasn’t badly hurt but… kind of, yeah.”