10
Cole
I feel rough. Mouth dry, head pounding, eyes gritty from crying, for the first time in ages, like a fucking idiot.
I sit up slowly and rub my face with both hands.
First things first: food. Then I’ll wait for lectures to start, sneak back into the dorm, push my dresser against the door, and just… lie in bed.
I turn the engine over. The truck rumbles to life, loud in the stillness. I reverse out of the spot, glancing up, bird shit splattered across the windshield in fresh white streaks. I don’t even care enough to wipe it off yet.
Five minutes later I pull into the drive-through of the little diner off campus, the one with the greasy bacon-egg-and-cheese on a toasted roll. I order one of those, add extra bacon because fuck it, and a small black coffee. Just enough to keep me going until I can crash.
I park in the far corner of the lot, away from the trickle of early-morning people grabbing breakfast or drive-throughs on their way to class or work.
The windows are fogged from my breathing; I crack one open and let the cool morning air mix with the smell of grease and coffee.
I unwrap the sandwich, cheese oozing, and take my first bite.
I groan out loud, beautiful. Salty, crispy bacon, soft egg, melted cheese, toasted roll soaked just enough in butter.
It’s stupid how much better the world feels with food in my mouth.
I turn my phone on while I chew. The screen lights up with notifications, missed calls from Remy going right through until 2:14 a.m. No texts back to my message, he didn’t reply or explain.
Just called, over and over. I swipe them all away, don’t open the call log or listen to the voicemails.
I load YouTube instead, click on one of my go-to distraction videos…
some guy rebuilding old muscle cars in his garage, low voice narrating, engine sounds rumbling through the speakers. Familiar, mindless, and perfect.
◆◆◆
I wait until my phone says 8:15. Our lecture started ten minutes ago, so the dorm should be empty. Hopefully Remy actually went to it.
I drive back through campus slowly, eyes scanning for familiar faces, but it’s quiet…
early enough that most people are either already in class or lucky enough to sleep in.
I pull into my usual spot, kill the engine, and sit here for a second staring at the steering wheel.
My neck still aches from the truck seat, my head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and my chest is hollow in a way that makes every breath hurt.
I grab my keys, lock the truck, and head inside.
The lift ride to the third floor feels endless. I keep my head down, avoiding the mirror. I already know I look like shit. The hallway’s silent, good. I pull my key out, unlock the door as quietly as I can, push it open, slip inside, and close it behind me with a soft click.
Then I freeze. Remy’s asleep on the couch, curled on his side, one arm hanging off the edge, hoodie pulled up over his head like he was trying to hide from the world.
The blanket’s half on the floor. No sign of Hannah, no noise from the bathroom or Remy’s bedroom.
I don’t know if she’s gone for good or just out for class.
I don’t know what happened after I left last night… I’m not sure I want to know.
I quietly kick my shoes off, wincing as one thumps against the wall, too loud in the heavy silence.
I hang my jacket on the hook with careful, deliberate movements, but every rustle of fabric, and every soft creak of the hanger, feels amplified.
My pulse is thudding in my ears, the quiet presses in from all sides.
Then Remy’s voice comes, rough, sleepy, and thick with relief. “Oh, thank fuck you’re okay, Cole.”
I inhale sharp, refusing to look at him. I just head straight for the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and start down the hall toward my room.
Remy jolts upright fast, almost frantic, tripping over the tangled blanket as he scrambles off the couch.
He stumbles forward and plants himself in my path, hands slamming onto my chest to stop me, palms flat.
I jerk back hard, like his touch burns. I can’t handle it…
the heat of his skin, the familiar pressure of his fingers, the way my body still wants to lean into it even now.
My heart kicks violently against my ribs.
I wrench my gaze away, to the wall, to the ceiling, anywhere but his face…
because I’m not strong enough to pretend I don’t care.
“Cole… please, just… look at me. Let me explain.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh that tastes like ash in my mouth. “There’s nothing to explain. We’re cool. I just want to sleep.”
I try to shoulder past him, but he steps sideways, gentle but unyielding, blocking me again. His hands hover near my arms, not quite touching this time, like he’s afraid I’ll flinch.
“Please, Cole…” His voice cracks open, raw and panicked, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry… it didn’t mean anything, I swear to God… please, just listen.”
I shove his hands away, harder than I mean to, and the motion sends a jolt through both of us. “I’m tired,” I say, low and flat, each word carved out. “Leave me alone.”
The silence that follows is thick, like the air itself is holding its breath.
I barge into my room, slamming the door behind me…
or trying to. Remy’s foot jams into the gap at the last second, desperate.
I roll my eyes, exhale through my nose, and set the water bottle down on the bedside table.
The plastic thuds down too loudly in the tense quiet, like punctuation on my exhaustion.
Remy’s voice shakes, thin and fraying. “I was ready… I swear to God I was fucking ready to end things and then she came back crying and…”
“Remy. Stop.”
My tone cuts firm, no room for argument.
I turn slowly and finally look at him. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, hair a wild mess like he’s been pulling at it all night, face pale and drawn under the hallway light.
He looks like he hasn’t slept either, like he’s been pacing and unravelling.
I don’t care, or I’m trying, really fucking trying, not to.
“I don’t care what happened, okay?” My voice comes out hollow, like I’m reading lines from a script I don’t believe. “You chose Hannah. We can still be friends, but I really want some fucking sleep.”
The words land like stones between us, heavy and false. His face crumples slowly, like I just punched him in the chest. The hope in his eyes gutters out, replaced by something raw and wounded that makes my throat close up. He opens his mouth, closes it, tries again, but nothing comes out.
I hear his breathing hitch once, shaky, like he’s fighting not to cry. “No…” he whispers. “No, I don’t want that… I don’t want her, Cole… listen to me, please.”
I laugh again. “It was just a bit of fun, right? That’s all we ever were, Remy. Just a bit of fun.”
His face falls completely, eyes wide, mouth open like I punched him in the gut. He shakes his head fast. “You don’t mean that. I know you don’t…”
He’s right, I don’t. I turn away, climb into bed fully clothed, and pull the covers over my head like a kid hiding from a nightmare. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Remy’s voice cracks. “I’m not leaving until we talk about this.”
I squeeze my eyes shut under the blanket, the fabric muffling the world. “Fine,” I mutter, voice flat and tired. “If it gets you to piss off, I’ll talk when I’ve slept.”
A beat of silence. Then, small and hopeful: “Really?”
I don’t mean it. I don’t want to talk about this at all. I just want him gone. “Yeah. Sure.”
I hear the tiny, relieved exhale he lets out, like he’s been holding his breath for hours, and it stabs straight through my ribs.
Then, quieter, almost a whisper, he asks, “Cole… can I, can I just… have a hug? Before I go? Please? I swear I’ll leave after.”
The plea hangs there, soft and broken, and for one stupid second my arms twitch like they want to reach for him. I can picture it, his face buried in my neck, the way he always melts when I hold him tight, the little sigh he makes against my skin. My throat closes up.
I swallow hard, forcing the word out. “No.”
“Okay,” he whispers, voice cracking again. “Okay… I’m sorry.”
The door clicks shut behind him, soft, careful, like he’s afraid to make it loud. I deflate under the covers, chest hollow, eyes burning hotter than before. I pull the blanket tighter over my head and pray sleep takes me fast, because this is shit, and I don’t know how to survive it.