Chapter 11
Fifteen hours later, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Cole’s mouth. I’d made it through tutoring, driving home, eating alone in the dark, and passing out while scrolling social media—all while maintaining a carefree attitude. Inside, I was an inferno of doubt and frustration. I wouldn’t be surprised if I breathed fire on my way into the newspaper office.
I almost kissed him. Again. The moment on Cole’s couch marked the second time he’d pushed me right up to the edge of my boundaries using nothing more than sexy words. Well, and his mouth and his tongue and the bulge in his sweats he hadn’t bothered to hide when we’d actually gotten down to studying.
With a quiet curse, I nearly tripped down the last set of steps to the basement office. Thinking about Cole was dangerous to my mind and my body. A flush swept through me when I remembered just how dangerous he’d probably be to my body based on the sheer size of him. The man was fantastically proportional.
“I know that look. You’re thinking about dick.”
My head snapped up at Marco’s comment. Thankfully, no one else was in the office, as predicted.
“You’ve known me all of a week. You couldn’t possibly know what I’m thinking.”
“Mmm,” he hummed. “No, sorry, babe. I know what someone’s face looks like when they’ve been dickmatized.”
Before I responded, I checked the space one more time to be sure I wasn’t about to create an impression I didn’t want. Jonah’s door was open to his empty office, and Sebastian’s was closed. Marco followed my gaze over his shoulder and smirked.
“It’s not Jonah’s time, but Seb is in there. Make sure you speak clearly if you want him to hear you though. He has a tendency to work with headphones on.”
I studied Marco’s smug expression and raised a brow at him. “I’m sure that has nothing to do with his officemate.”
He held up his hands. “Not my fault he doesn’t like my music. Which I play at a high volume. Pointed directly at his office.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get it. Why are you trying to drive him insane?”
“You’ll see,” he muttered, just as Sebastian’s door opened.
I hadn’t met my editor in person yet. We’d exchanged a series of needlessly polite emails about work policies and story ideas, but he hadn’t been around when I’d shown up to help distribute the paper on Monday.
Marco turned and crossed his arms, squaring off next to me, or maybe claiming his territory. With the lack of other people in here, he had slim pickings for work friends. We hadn’t made it far past the bottom of the stairs, barely to the first desk, but Sebastian frowned and made a beeline for us.
I was immediately filled with an intense dislike. He wore the same thing Scott put on almost every day, pressed khakis and a button-down shirt. Also like Scott, Sebastian carefully styled his hair into business casual boredom. What the fuck had I seen in him? Compared to Cole’s easy comfort, both Sebastian and Scott looked like they were disappointed in the waitstaff for bringing the wrong brand of sparkling water. With Marco’s attitude factored in, I was already prepared to hate the man.
Sebastian took in my outfit of a tight long-sleeved shirt over camo cargo pants tucked into my favorite boots. I’d added a puffy vest because, while the temperature had risen in the sun, the shade was still chilly. A furrow formed between his brows and transformed to an outright scowl when his gaze landed on Marco.
“Shouldn’t you be working on your article? The last one needed a second round of edits before I could put it in the paper.”
My hackles rose, and I had to rein in the sudden urge to go at this guy like a mama bear. Marco had been nothing but nice and supportive to me. Other than Cole, he was the only friend I’d made at TU. Granted, I wasn’t particularly trying, but I appreciated them anyway.
Marco didn’t need me though. He bowed to Sebastian and added a fancy little hand flip. “Whatever you need, Sebastian. I’ll be in my hovel if you need me.”
Sebastian’s frown deepened, but he dismissed Marco and turned his attention to me. Marco sent me a cheeky grin from behind Seb and mimed turning up his music. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Avery, thank you for helping with distribution, but for the future, I’d advise you to choose more responsible footwear.”
Yep, I disliked this man intensely. How did he even know what boots I’d been wearing yesterday? I’d met a couple of the other staff writers, and they’d all seemed nice, if somewhat distant. The only sign of Seb we’d seen had been the schedule he’d made for deliveries.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Do you have any feedback on the articles I sent you?”
He checked his phone, and his eyes briefly flicked over my shoulder toward the stairs. “I do, but I have a different assignment for you. I understand you’re Coach Dalton’s daughter?”
A tight ball of foreboding sank into my stomach. “Yes.”
“I want you focusing on the sports teams at TU, primarily football and men’s hockey, though the women’s volleyball team has garnered some attention lately too. We’re a D1 school, and we’ve been lacking in our sports coverage.”
I struggled to keep my face neutral, but Seb wasn’t really looking at me anyway. “I’d prefer not to write about the sports teams.”
He let out a dry laugh. “I’d prefer to have a reliable staff, but we don’t always get what we want. If you intend to write for the TU Post, you’ll do as you’re assigned.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go fuck himself, but despite the small staff, the TU Post was well known among internships. Getting a regular byline would look fantastic on my resume. I didn’t have to write exclusively about the hockey team.
As if he could sense me trying to find loopholes, Seb focused on my face again. “There’s not much happening with the football team right now, so I want you at every home hockey game. Get what you can about the players, the staff, anything that might prove interesting during the break for your weekly articles. Even better if it’s something salacious. That’s your assignment until I tell you otherwise.”
I ground my teeth together and nodded. Seb’s request for something salacious made me question if the TU Post was right for me, but Jonah didn’t seem like the tabloid type, and while Marco appeared to love a juicy story, he didn’t strike me as paparazzi. I didn’t need sensational drama to write a good article.
At least I wouldn’t need to do a bunch of research. Until my parents divorced when I was eight, I was obsessed with hockey. Dad played in the NHL, and I couldn’t get enough of watching him zoom across the ice.
Hockey lost a lot of its appeal when Dad didn’t even fight for custody—too busy with his career to take care of a kid by himself.
Seb hummed absently and returned to his office without any further orders. No wonder Marco hated him. I wondered how Dad would react to knowing I was his new sports reporter. Nothing in my memory gave any indication one way or the other how he felt about the media. Most likely, he’d take the news with the same apathetic attitude he took everything else.
With my assignment set, I sank down at Greta’s desk and pulled out my laptop. I didn’t even know the hockey schedule other than they had a couple of weeks off, which was why Cole was frontloading his lit work.
A laugh bubbled up from my chest. Cole would love this turn of events. Actually, maybe I could start with Cole. He was the wholesome good guy on the team, readers would eat him up. I wouldn’t mention his issues, obviously, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out more about him. Do an official interview.
The rough outline of a series of articles took shape in my mind, and I added notes on my computer until my phone buzzed beside me, pulling me out of the zone. My muscles tensed, and I forced them to relax. It was probably Cole, somehow sensing I was thinking about him. The chances of it being Scott, again, had to be in the single digits.
Obviously, he hadn’t been silent since I’d walked out of my mom’s house, but after the day I met Cole in the library, the quantity of texts from Scott had increased. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was watching me.
Shoving the creepy thought away, I checked the message.
Unknown number: Lunch?
I squinted down at my phone, then looked around the room. No one else had snuck in while I was busy, and I highly doubted Seb was extending an invitation. Movement at the corner of my vision made me glance toward the bonus office, where Marco stood at the window holding up his phone with a grin.
Mystery solved.
Me: How’d you get my number?
Marco: Jonah keeps a list in his office.
Me: Good to know.
I made a mental note to have a talk with Jonah about privacy laws.
Me: Why are you texting me from the other room?
Marco: So Seb the asshole can’t hear me.
Me: I thought you wanted to annoy him with your noise.
Marco: Not this noise. He’s not invited.
Right. Lunch. I hadn’t realized so much time had passed. Honestly, I was surprised Marco’s noise torture was working. I could barely hear his music with the door closed, and I liked most of the Broadway showtunes he seemed to prefer. A couple of them I’d seen live when they toured in Dallas.
I beckoned him to come out of the office because I refused to have a text conversation with someone I could see. The quiet undertone of Marco’s music shut off, and the man himself came out shortly after.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked him when he approached my desk.
“I know a great place.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you didn’t like paying for food in the middle of the day?”
He waved away my suspicious question. “This is a special occasion. You’re new and need to be trained in the ways of eating at TU.”
I stood and grabbed my messenger bag. “I’m not that new. I’ve been here a couple of weeks.”
Marco linked his arm through mine and led me up the stairs. “You’re new to me, so prepare yourself. I know all the best places to eat for cheap in Addison.”
We reached the top of the stairs, and he steered me toward the entrance. “What about your girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be taking her to lunch?”
“She’s home sick today. I’m going to swing by and drop something off for her. She hates being babied when she’s not feeling well. Absolutely refuses to let me in, but she’ll accept food offerings.”
“Ah, so we’re doing double duty. I hope your girlfriend appreciates it.”
He led me to a beat-up Toyota. “She knows I’m a delight—an efficient delight.”
I hesitated with my fingers on the handle. Marco was outgoing and fun, but I really didn’t know him well. If he wanted to murder me, this would be a fantastic set-up.
His head popped up over the roof again. “Everything okay?”
Marco’s face was open and concerned. He didn’t look like a serial killer, but I was under the impression they never did. If psychopaths could be picked out easily, they’d be a lot less effective at murdering people.
I snorted at the train of my thoughts and smiled at Marco. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
He started up the car as I slid in next to him. Cole was probably right about my tendency to search for danger everywhere. The habit wasn’t just a side effect of living in big cities all my life. My mom had drilled into me at every opportunity how the world was out to get us, her in particular.
I’d learned to anticipate when she’d devolve into a narcissistic spiral obsessing over all the wrongs done to her. Marco deserved better than constant suspicion from me. So did Cole for that matter. I purposely guided my thoughts away from my dad, the third man in my life. He’d made his choice, his suspicion was deserved.
Marco let me stew while he navigated the parking lot, but when he hit the road, he nudged my leg. “What’s going on with you and Cole Mathis? Tell me everything. If there’s nothing, make something up. I need to live vicariously through you.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “Why? I state again, for the record, you have a girlfriend. Live your own dirty fantasies.”
He sent me some deep side-eye. “Oh, I do, but none of my real-life fantasies involve Cole Mathis. A guy can dream.”
I desperately didn’t want to discuss Cole’s sexuality after the near miss last night, so I nudged Marco in a different direction. “Has Seb always been an asshole or is it a recent development?”
“Always, as far as I know. I’ve been working with Jonah for almost three years, and from day one, Seb was antagonistic. He’s gotten a tiny bit mellower over the years, but the day I met him, he made a shitty comment about one of the other staff writers. It was all downhill from there. He’s a senior, and I have one more year. I can’t wait for the freedom after he graduates, though I’m terrified for who he’ll pick to take his spot.”
Interestingly, Marco’s experience was similar to mine. I’d been willing to give Seb the benefit of the doubt, but his immediate disdain for Marco cemented him in enemy territory. On the plus side, Marco felt like a gift. He was easy to talk to, impressively loyal, and I already knew his mischievous streak was going to get me in trouble.
Marco nudged me again, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Now about Cole.”
Shit. I needed a better distraction—and I had a pretty good idea of something I could use. Hockey players in their natural environment.