40. Jenna
Chapter forty
Jenna
My head feels like someone has held a jackhammer to my skull all night, but unlike my typical drunken nights out followed by the roughest hangovers known to man, I remember everything about last night.
Getting picked up by Cassandra and Harley after seeing them for the first time since their honeymoon.
Being at Olive’s gig where she told us afterward that she’d signed a record deal with World Music. Three of us girls, along with Harley, celebrated by getting drunk out of our minds. Cassandra was our designated driver.
But the whole time, I couldn’t wait to get back to Cole and tell him all about it.
Last night, after the article broke, it was a hard pill to swallow. But I knew it wasn’t true, so I did my best to ignore it and whatever noise that followed because I suddenly realized just how important Cole was to me, and how little things like that, didn’t matter.
The vile comments left on social media, though, were harder to digest.
Margot said the business hadn’t been affected, but I had a feeling she was lying to me.
I knew the party was happening, and I hoped to make it for the last hour, ending the night curled up next to him in his bed or mine. But I walked in on what looked incriminating.
That’s not true.
I walked in a minute before seeing what everyone else saw, and I watched as Jude sent Mara over to a visibly wasted Cole.
Watched as she straddled him, and heard his voice tell her to get off him.
I heard him.
But instead of stopping it from getting out of hand, I let it play out. Because I think a part of me wanted to see something happen between Mara and Cole so things could end between us.
Because I’m a fucking coward.
Us ending is the last thing I wanted, and while I’m not in the habit of admitting the truth, I felt like it was time to finally do it.
When he told me that he’d worked at the Lotus for the last few years, it sparked a hope in me I hadn’t realized.
A hope for something more.
Something I never wanted with anybody else.
But drunk Jenna got in the way of things and made damn sure I would be lonely for the rest of my life.
Groaning, I roll out of bed, still in the dress that I wore last night, and walk toward the kitchen.
If the smell of vodka in the air wasn’t enough to make me want to puke, the memory of me doing exactly that last night almost does the trick.
Thankfully, I keep it all down.
I open the fridge and freezer doors, standing inside, and allow the ice-cold air to cover me from head to toe before I rest my forehead on an empty shelf.
I’m too hungover to face any consequences today, but I know that if I don’t face them now, I never will.
I’ll go to set on Monday morning. I’ll pretend as though he and I were never anything but colleagues, and I’ll head home heartbroken, like I promised myself I wouldn’t do.
And once I get home, I’ll constantly be looking over my shoulder for him, hoping fate will force us together, and that God-forsaken curse would be broken. Maybe for once, for once , I could get the happy ending that my best friends tell me I deserve.
If I avoid him, I don’t get any of that.
Closing the doors to my refrigerator, I strip down in my kitchen, leaving a trail of clothes behind me, and head for the bathroom, where I find my phone face up on the tiles beside the toilet bowl.
“Figures,” I mutter to myself as I pick it up, seeing three unread texts from Tahnee telling me to call her when I wake up, one from Cole saying ‘Can we talk?’, and one from Cassandra asking if I’d enjoyed the party.
Ignoring all three, I turn the water on the hottest it can go, hoping to wash away all of my mistakes while constantly telling myself to barge into Cole’s apartment and tell him I love him.
That if he’s willing to give this a go, then I am, too.
“You can do it,” I tell myself, repeatedly. “The worst he can say is ‘no.’” I hoped saying that last part out loud would encourage me that little bit more, but it does the opposite.
It sends panic through me.
I’ve lived with the fear of rejection my whole life.
Knowing my mom never accepted the person she helped create, resulting in me never letting anyone break down my walls.
If they couldn’t get through, they couldn’t reject me.
And if they couldn’t reject me, they couldn’t hurt me.
But that’s not true, is it?
By not letting Cole in, I’ve denied myself a chance at whatever he’s offering me, and it hurts knowing I could have ruined it because drunk me wanted to watch him fail.
“You’ve got this.”
Turns out, I don’t, in fact, got this.
I’ve paced in front of his apartment door for five whole minutes, walking back and forth down the eerily empty hallway, genuinely surprised I haven’t heard voices coming from the other apartment on this floor.
Given the only other room is directly across from his, and occupied by Mara, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still passed out cold.
Once I’d gotten out of the shower, I threw on my typical oversized t-shirt and bike shorts, and ran out the door without shoes.
“I should’ve just baked,” I mutter to myself as I twist the door handle to find it unlocked. “Hypocrite.” I smile with a shake of my head.
His apartment is empty and quiet, with empty bottles littered everywhere, and pizza boxes scattered around his bench top.
“Cole?” I call out softly, careful not to wake his brother. I watch as his bathroom door opens, and he steps out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.
It’s like déjà vu, only this time I’m not here to tell him I want to fuck him senseless. I’m here to tell him I want to give us a real chance.
“Snow,” he whispers, stopping in his tracks, his eyes flicking to his bedroom door as it creaks open. “Shit,” he says. “I promise this isn’t—”
“Morning, big guy,” Mara says with a croaky voice, wearing nothing but the shirt Cole was wearing last night.
Her tits are perky—only just covered by the fabric—her stomach is toned, her bellybutton pierced, and her underwear a lace hot pink. Her thighs don’t touch, and there isn’t a dimple or stretch mark anywhere to be seen.
“Look what the cat dragged in. You’re brave showing your face here after the stunt you pulled last night,” she says to me, crossing her arms over her chest.
I wrack my brain, trying to recall what she’s talking about, but the only thing I seem to remember vividly was her attempting to sexually assault a man who was clearly intoxicated.
The same man she believed to be my boyfriend until that moment.
“Mara,” Cole warns her, because all he fucking does is warn her without following through with his threats.
“I shouldn’t have come,” I say, shaking my head instead of telling him what I came here to say.
“You’re absolutely right about that,” she says, taking a step closer to Cole, attempting to hook her arm around his waist, but he wriggles free. “And it’s about time you accepted it. I’m good for his career. You’re nothing but the help.” My eyes flick between the two of them, hoping he corrects her.
Tell her she’s wrong , I beg him with my eyes.
Tell me this is all a misunderstanding. My hands shake by my sides, but he freezes.
His mouth opens to speak, then slams shut almost as quickly.
“You’re a fucking coward,” I say to him, ignoring the woman by his side completely. “And to think I was coming here to tell you OK. To tell you that we could do what you asked of me. God, I’m a fucking idiot.”
While I thought for a moment that I might’ve loved him, I knew that I loved myself more, and I didn’t deserve to feel this way.
Right now, sitting on a wraparound porch on a house next to my best friend and her husband while we’re old and gray, sounds like heaven.
Because the reality that I’m living in right now?
It’s what I imagine hell to be like.