Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
With a turn, I find the captain of the Pine Valley Bruins hockey team, shirtless and his pants rumpled with sleep.
If it were anyone else, I’d be embarrassed he caught me talking shit about him.
But considering Cole’s always looked down on me and my presence in this apartment—complete with a sour mood he doesn’t flash to anyone else on campus—he probably doesn’t give a shit what I think about him.
Generally, I try my best to be polite and treat people with kindness, even if they’re assholes. But Cole…Cole is always the exception to that rule, because he formed an opinion of me without saying a word to me first.
The day I bought Caden a coffee to thank him for his bathroom heroics, he invited me to their shared dorm room.
Cole walked in, shaking snow off his coat.
He briefly looked at Caden and me on Caden’s organized side of the room, and then at his messy side, then back at us with a dumbstruck look on his face.
Caden introduced me, and I told Cole how much I owed his brother. And Cole? He stood there, his expression a mix of disbelief and indifference, then shook his head, muttered something under his breath, and walked away with a slam of the door.
I tried to tell myself I was reading too much into one interaction and decided to give Cole a second chance.
A few days later, though, when I went to share a tin of my mom’s immaculately decorated Valentine’s day cookies with both of them, I overheard Caden and Cole fighting through the door.
Cole’s annoyed tone as he shouted at Caden is still burned into my skull.
“You can be friends with anyone, Cade. Please, I’m begging you, not her, not Natalie.
It’ll kill me to have her around all the time. ”
Cole lit his second chance on fire. I don’t give out thirds.
“Sorry, does it hurt wittle Colie’s feelings to hear that not every girl is falling at his feet?” I flutter my eyelashes as he shuffles into the kitchen. With an eye roll and a dismissive shake of his head, he pours himself a cup of coffee.
Begrudgingly, I admire the way his biceps flex as he raises the cup of black liquid to his mouth and takes a small sip.
I can’t help it. I’m a mere mortal and he’s an imposing hockey player with the same gorgeous, chiseled jawline and effortlessly mussy hair as the man I’ve fallen for. Of course I’m attracted to him.
But Caden? He’s the golden boy, and I’ve always preferred the Prince Charming types to the Prince of Blood or Darkness or whatever Cole is reigning over these days.
“Rough night, bro?” Caden flashes his trademark carefree smile as he flips his eggs with a flourish.
“Yeah. For fuck’s sake, Cade, would it kill you and your house guests to keep it down?”
My shoulders tense. You’re too loud. Too big.
Too embarrassing. Too much. It’s what I’ve heard repeatedly in my life, but I don’t know how to tone it down.
Down feels itchy. Down feels impossible when my appearance is loud.
Is my hair auburn? Red? Brown? Nobody knows.
What color are my eyes exactly? Hazel? Amber?
Mud. And good luck trying to count the freckles smothering my cheeks and the bridge of my nose.
I’m tall. I’m clumsy. My existence takes up space a daintier woman would never dream of inhabiting, and I’ve tried to put my personality in a box, I really have, but it won’t stay put.
“I can be louder next time, if you want.” I bite back.
Cole’s eyes widen like who are you to dare speak to me, and then he flashes the same look to his brother. Caden shakes his head, and Cole’s shoulders relax.
A door in the hallway I’m forbidden to enter quietly closes. Cole’s tight about his privacy and doesn’t like me going down there, so I don’t. Although plenty of other women leave that hallway for a man who prefers his privacy.
I groan, hating the uncomfortable aftermath of Cole’s one-night stands.
“Well…” A cute, petite blonde peeks her head into the kitchen, silver heels in her hand. Her hair is half-mussed, half-finger raked. Her makeup is flaking on her face, and her shirt is rumpled and haphazardly tucked into her mini skirt.
Still, she’s somehow more put together than I feel most days.
Cole doesn’t look up. Doesn’t respond. Just leans against the counter, sipping his coffee.
“I—uhm, I guess I’ll be going,” she says, hesitating to make a move to the door. If she’s hoping Cole’s going to stop and ask her to have breakfast with him, she’s going to be waiting in that spot for the rest of her life.
In all the mornings I’ve spent here, he hasn’t acknowledged anyone who’s left his room.
Caden stops his hurricane around the kitchen and waves with a cheerful, “Have a good day!”
“How’d your economics final go, Natalie?” Cole asks, still not acknowledging the woman he just slept with as she walks out the door with sagging shoulders.
I don’t answer, keeping my gaze on Caden, pulling sizzling bacon out of the oven.
Cole hates being ignored, but he might as well get a taste of his own medicine.
My decision not to answer him has nothing to do with the fact that I’m pretty sure I bombed the final, and Cole—who is annoyingly smart—had offered to tutor me.
Obviously, I said no. I’d rather fail on my own than owe my success to that smug ass.
“Natalie?” Cole presses.
Again, I don’t respond.
Pushing himself up off the counter, he walks over to me with determination in his stride.
“If you don’t answer, I’ll assume you failed because you were too busy staring at my gorgeous face all semester and regret not having the courage to accept my offer to tutor you.
” With his coffee mug in hand, he comes to a stop just a foot away from me, his irritating smug grin still on display.
I straighten my spine, facing him with my full five-eleven height, but still, he towers over me. “Trust me, I’d much rather fail that class than spend a minute alone with you.”
“Oh, but sweetheart, I’d make that minute so worth it,” he replies with a wink.
Something pulses, low in the pit of my stomach, a tug, tug, tug.
I hate it—the nervous energy that hums in my body whenever Cole is around.
I hate when people dislike me. And I hate that I let that get to me.
Any energy spent on him and what he thinks of me is energy wasted.
I clasp my hands to my chest. “You’d last a whole minute? Really? Would that be a record for you?”
“I was talking about teaching you about aggregate demand, but good to know where your head is at when we chat.” He raises his mug as if to toast me.
“In your dreams,” I roll my eyes.
“No, in my dreams we don’t do much talking on this,” he says, one of his fingers lazily draws circles over the counter.
My eyes betray me, stuck on his forefinger as it taps, taps, taps, on the same spot, slow, slow, fast, faster, another lazy circle.
My throat grows hoarse, dry from a scream that’s never left my lips.
A pulse thrums between my thighs. Tap. Tap.
Images of Cole lifting me onto the counter, hungry for me, terrorize my over-active imagination, kicking out the ones of sweet and caring Caden that I’d much rather cling to.
He’s brutal, cruel with his mouth, punishing me for every rude quip and barb I’ve ever tossed his way and I whimper for him, desperate and pleading for more—more of his fingers—more of the teasing circle of his finger—just like he wants me to be.
I blink back to reality, burying the terrible intrusive images deep down where they belong and raise my eyes.
I find a knowing gleam in Cole’s gaze. Like we somehow just shared that awful nightmare—except it doesn’t look like it was torture for him.
“This counter is where you murder your victims, isn’t it? ” I ask, through trembling lips.
“I believe the French call what you’d do a tiny death, sure.” His eyes land intensely on me, tracing the hollow of my collarbone like now he’s plotting how he’s going to strangle me.
“I wouldn’t go through all that trouble. Your presence is torture enough. No need to bring out the rope and knives.”
He chokes on his coffee with a muttered, “Fuck’s sake.”
A victorious grin takes residence on my face, happy to get him as off kilter as I feel.
But it doesn’t last as Caden pulls out the blender from the pantry, drawing my attention away.
My hand tightens on the scarf around my neck and I subtly pull it up to my mouth.
Caden’s favorite peanut butter protein powder is seconds from filling the air with a plume of dust. As someone with a peanut allergy, the tiny explosions spike my anxiety every morning, but I’ve never told Caden to stop.
He knows I have an allergy.
It’s up to him to choose to prioritize it or not—and since he doesn’t, it’s probably selfish of me to expect him to.
Because Caden is anything but selfish.
Cole’s gaze sharpens on me, as if he’s expecting me to say something.
The pull between us turns hot—angry. His annoyance bubbles up and he sends daggers Caden’s way.
“Hey, asshole, how many times do I have to tell you? If she’s going to be here every day, we shouldn’t even have that in the house.
” He strides over to Caden, grabbing the peanut butter canister before he can open it, and tosses it in the trash.
“Dude, that was full,” Caden whines, looking incredulous.
“Yeah, I know it was, because I threw the other one out, too. It’s not safe to use that around her.” Cole hitches his thumb toward me before walking over to the sink and washing his hands.
“She has a name, you know.” I cross my arms, an unbearable anger flooding my veins—but it isn’t mine, or at least it doesn’t feel like it belongs to me, however weird that sounds.
Cole turns, taking a step toward me. “Yes, Natalie, you’re welcome.” I used to hate that everyone called me “Nat,” but now that Cole is the only one to use my full name I’ve grown to hate the full moniker more. Coming off his lips, it always sounds like a curse.
“That’s not—I’m not thanking you. I can stand up for myself, for your information.”
“I’m well aware of that fact, but I don’t think I’m the person you should stand up to.” Cole tugs at the edge of my scarf, pulling it off my neck. “It’s a little warm in here for a scarf, don’t you think?”
He shoves the balled-up piece of fabric into my hand before walking away. His bedroom door slams moments later, and I’m left staring at Caden, who’s making a goofy face like, Can you believe that grump?
Walking over to the trash, he pulls the container of powder out. “You really don’t mind, do you? Because the chocolate one is too chalky.”
I glance at the scarf balled in my hand, the only barrier between me and the looming threat of a three-hour headache and throat closure. Cole can’t possibly know why I keep it on, right? No way he’s paid me that much attention.
“Totally fine, make whatever you like best,” I offer a weak smile, wrapping the scarf back around my neck.