39. Cole
Chapter thirty-nine
Cole
I’ve been on damage control since midnight when the article dropped and Tate burst through my door.
“I told you she was bad for your image,” he’d said to me as he paced my bedroom floor. “I told you to focus on your fucking career,” he seethed as he typed frantically on his phone. “I told you that Mara would be better for you.” He shook his head in disbelief. All while I blocked out the noise and tried my hardest to get in touch with Jenna.
I just needed to see if she was OK.
His words flew straight over my head, while each attempted call I made went straight to voicemail.
The article itself wasn’t bad, per se. But it wasn’t exactly kind, either. And after the day she’d had, the last thing she needed was her face splashed all over every news outlet, and her body talked about—like being curvy was a bad thing—especially when none of it was true.
She’s no home wrecker; Mara and I aren’t anything other than cast mates. And Jenna and I are…I don’t even know anymore.
I just wanted her to consider me.
Consider us .
But I saw the panic flood through her once ice-blue eyes, turning them into the darkest ocean blue the moment I asked her to think about what we could be.
I didn’t regret it then, and I don’t regret it now.
There was one photo that stuck out to me.
She and I holding hands as we walked down Main Street after I’d just stood up for her in front of her mom.
Her smile was wide, and if you looked close enough, you could see that her eyes were slightly red and puffy from crying.
But she looks happy. We look happy. We look comfortable. We look as though each other is all we know, and no one else exists in our world.
But most of all, we looked real .
That’s exactly how I felt at that moment. I didn’t care that we had an end date in place, or that this wouldn’t go anywhere because she deemed it couldn’t.
I just wished she knew how wrong she was.
***
The first thing I notice when I get to set is the eerie silence and discomfort from everyone around me. Mara sits in her chair, eyes full of fire as she shoots daggers at Jenna, who is trying her hardest to focus on her job—the most important thing to her.
I should’ve known she would be OK, or at least that she would put on a front to make herself seem that way.
Mara looks up at me, and a sob escapes her lips as if seeing me broke her heart all over again. The performance she’s putting on is exactly the reason she’s Hollywood’s most sought-out actress, because it’s fucking believable .
Hell, even I’m digging through my memories for any time I could’ve possibly led her on, but I come up short.
Her wails echo through the room, and Jenna’s eyes flick to mine, a knowing grin spreading across her lips, almost reaching her eyes. I let out a deep sigh of relief, because I worried about her for no reason.
Of course I did.
She can handle herself.
One thing I’m realizing about Jenna Rogers, is that she always has her own back, no matter what. And yesterday, I saw firsthand why she is the way that she is. I saw the person at fault for making her feel like she constantly needs to be on guard, and my heart aches for her, knowing that the person behind it all is her mom.
The cause, but hopefully no longer the cure.
The morning flies by quickly. I’m in and out of Jenna’s chair in no time, and because all eyes are on us, we barely say a word to each other. I did, however, notice how her body pressed up against mine for longer than usual.
My hand automatically gravitated toward her legs. I noticed how she’d shudder at my touch and nibble on her bottom lip when our faces were mere inches apart.
We’ve grown comfortable being around each other like this, and that article shouldn’t threaten to change a damn thing.
I watched as Mara sat in Jenna’s chair, too. Mara acted as if she weren’t just heartbroken only moments prior. She complimented Jenna’s hair, her fair skin, and how blue her eyes were.
It was confusing as fuck, but clearly the only person Mara seems to be pissed at, is me.
I can handle it, though.
“Let’s get this show on the road, everyone. It’s crunch time with not a lot of time to go.” Laurel Jo, our executive producer, claps her hands together with her headset over one ear.
“You ready to do this, big guy?” Mara stalks toward me, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor as she closes the distance between us.
Her natural blonde hair in large waves dancing around her shoulders, making her face almost look bare.
“Let’s just get it over with.” I huff, gesturing for her to walk ahead of me, and she wiggles her brows with a devious smirk. I wish everybody could see this side of her, but they’re all blinded by it.
“You wanna check me out, Green?” Her voice booms, echoing through the enormous space, and all eyes flock to us as if they weren’t already.
I don’t respond, but I follow behind her, maintaining a safe distance between us. She stops suddenly, spinning on her heels and our chests crash together. “All you have to do is ask, and this can be all yours. For real, Cole,” she whispers for only me to hear, but I grab her wrist before she can walk away, our bodies still as one.
“Cut the crap, Mara. You’re doing more harm than good, and you know it.” I bite back in a hushed tone while she bats her eyelashes at me.
“Oh, big deal, Cole. Any publicity is good publicity. The sooner you realize that, the better.” She rips her wrist free from my grip, and we both make our way to our marks as if the tension between us could be tasted by anyone who got too close.
This is going to be a long fucking day.
***
I was right.
We ended up shooting way later than intended, and on our way out, Tate invited everyone back to our apartment for drinks.
All I wanted to do was get Jenna alone, and talk to her about how she was feeling, but it’d have to wait.
She and Tahnee were the first to put their hands up to stop for alcohol on their way home, and bring it over.
From day one, our colleagues have believed that she and I have been together—we’ve made it believable.
And yet, they still look at Jenna like she’s the bad guy in this for going after Mara’s man.
“Why’d you have to invite everyone over?” I groan to Tate as we step out of our now parked car. “The place isn’t even clean. We don’t have enough food to feed everyone, and there certainly isn’t enough space.” I slam my door closed and stalk toward the building.
“Then good thing everyone lives in the same building, so they can go home whenever they want to.” He jogs up behind me. “Hi, Marv,” my brother says, tossing his car keys to the man who runs the building, and nods his thanks.
“Enjoy your evening,” he tells us as he makes his way to the desk, and Tate and I head toward the elevator.
By the time we arrive at the top floor, it seems a lot of people have already made themselves comfortable in our home, as we hear the music blaring from behind the door. “I told some of the crew the door would be unlocked and to make themselves at home.” Tate looks me up and down with his hand on the doorknob, giving me a quick shake of the head.
“What?” I cross my arms over my chest, furious that he’s let people we hardly know into our home without one of us present.
“This whole thing is a mess, brother. Please, just sort it out. I don’t understand why you can’t just end things with her now. We’re only a few weeks away from finishing. Then you can do what you want.” He rubs the back of his head.
I pinch the bridge of my nose with a sigh. “You don’t fucking get it, Tate.”
“So explain it to me, then. Because from where I’m standing, you guys told everyone you were dating as a joke, and never came clean about it. So, either it’s become real, or you want it to be.”
I attempt to push past him to join the party, but he places his hand on my chest.
“Last I checked, Tate, I owe you my career. I don’t owe you details on my personal life.” I shake my head, swatting his hand off of me.
“You do owe me your career. So, if you fuck this up over pussy and everything we’ve worked so hard for gets taken away, that is on you.” He opens the door, plastering a wide, fake smile on his face, saying ‘hello’ to a small group of people.
Closing it behind me, I spot Jude and Laurel on the couch, deep in conversation, Tahnee in the kitchen loading the fridge with beer and wine. But Jenna is nowhere to be seen.
“Tahnee,” I call out and her head snaps in my direction. “Is she here?” She closes the fridge, and shoulders slouch when she gives me a slight shake of the head.
Disappointment swallows me whole.
“She’s with the Herring girls at Olive’s gig, but she said she might show up later.” She shrugs, and I force a smile.
“No worries. I’ll keep a lookout.”
That wasn’t an understatement.
Every time my apartment door opened, I was filled with nervous anticipation, only to be let down when I saw someone else on the other side of it. I think every single cast and crew member were accounted for tonight apart from her.
Her absence has been noticed. “I’m sure she’ll be here,” Tahnee assured me five times in a row, and by the sixth, I came to realize that Jenna was going to be a no-show.
“Nothing comes between Jenna and those girls, Cole.” Tahnee hands me a beer, and at the rate I’ve been going, I’m surprised there are any left. I haven’t left the couch. She’s been acting as my personal bartender, doing her best to make sure my hand is never empty, while making small talk that none of us really care for.
“Thanks,” I say with a slur, trying to keep my voice even. “You know things between her and I are—”
“Confusing? Yeah, you could say that.” She chuckles. “I love her more than I love a lot of people, but if you’re hoping to lock her down when this is all over, then you’re wasting your time. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.” She clinks her glass against my beer bottle and I chug it down. Sinking back into the couch, I close my eyes, desperate to drown out the sound of music and chatter that surrounds me.
I’ve convinced myself she isn’t coming, and I hate that I’m disappointed about it. But when I feel fingertips tracing my biceps and down my forearms, my thoughts all but stop.
When I feel lips nip at my ear, I shudder, then relax my body.
But when I feel legs draping over my lap one by one, I freeze completely.
“Get off me,” I whisper to the blonde I don’t want, careful not to cause a scene in front of everyone we work with. My hands have remained firmly by my side this entire time, my eyes glued shut, but I know the person on my lap isn’t who I’ve waited for all night.
Even in my intoxicated state, I’m suddenly all too conscious of how this looks to watchful eyes, and even more aware of how it feels .
“Now, Mara. Don’t make me force you.” My once slurred words are suddenly clear as I warn her, gripping her hips to physically lift her off me, but she bucks them to grind herself against my waist, placing her forehead down on mine.
“Just give in to it, Cole. Why are you fighting it so hard?” She attempts to kiss me, but I turn as her lips scrape the side of my mouth and the chatter around us mutes. I don’t need to look toward the door to know why.
She’s here right on time to see this whole thing unfold, and everybody’s watching as it plays out.
“Snow,” I whisper, shoving Mara off my lap onto the other side of the couch, and Jenna’s head shakes slightly as she swallows hard. “This isn’t what—” I attempt to say the oldest excuse in the book, but she raises her hand to shut me up.
“Fuck you, Cole.” She’s drunk. That much is obvious from the redness in her cheeks, and the way those three, painful words, sounded coming out of her mouth. My only hope is that she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow, but I know my chances are slim.
I rush off the couch in an attempt to close the gap between us, not caring that everyone is watching, but she heads toward the kitchen, not the door.
“Can we at least talk?” I ask, suddenly sober and so fucking desperate. “Please.”
“What for?” she answers, her back to me, rummaging around in my nearly empty cupboards in search of a glass. “So you can act your way out of it?” She finds what she needs and heads for the fridge. “No, thank you.” Pulling out a bottle of soda, she tucks it under her arm before ripping open the freezer, and taking out a tray of ice. “We always had an end date. It’s just a little earlier than we expected.” She forces a smile, twisting the plastic tray in her hands as the ice cubes pop out, and throws them into her cup.
“This can’t be over. I don’t want—”
“You don’t get to decide what I want. And what I want right now, is to forget you even exist.” I watch as she fills half her glass with vodka, adds a splash of soda for color, and chugs it back before the ice can even make it cold.
“I’m taking this.” She picks up the bottle of alcohol, and I watch as she walks out my door, slamming it shut behind her, the walls vibrating in her absence.
I’m not imagining the silence this time, and it’s the loudest thing I’ve ever heard. I look over my shoulder to see Tate beside Mara on the couch, comforting her as she pretends to cry. Tahnee rushed out after Jenna, so she’s not here to call me an idiot, and everyone else is just…staring at me. Their mouths hang open like I’ve just confessed to murder, but Jude is the one to break the silence.
“You really fucked that one up, didn’t you, Green?”