Chapter 15
fifteen
The date hadn’t exactly started out well, but Cole interrupting it like that brought it to a screeching stop.
For the rest of the time we sat there, Mitch couldn’t stop talking about him—how annoying Cole was, how he didn’t “know his place,” whatever that meant, and how if he came near Cole again, he was going to fight him.
I chose not to point out that there was less than zero chance Mitch could take Cole in a fight.
Instead, I spent the rest of the date nodding intermittently and looking anywhere but at him.
I stared out the window at the cars coming and going.
I watched the parents corralling young kids through the shop, stopping them from sticking their hands in candy jars or smearing frozen yogurt over their faces.
I watched the back of Cole’s head as he chatted with Katie, wondering if I might have enjoyed today if he was my company instead.
Not that I wanted to go on a date with Cole.
Of course not. But I was sure he would be able to hold a better conversation than Mitch, who didn’t seem to notice that I hadn’t said anything in the last half an hour and hadn’t asked me anything about myself other than if I’d ever gone out with other guys. Clearly, he wasn’t exactly my soulmate.
When he finally got tired of complaining about Cole, Mitch suggested that he should probably get me home before it got too dark. I blinked and looked out the window, not realizing that the sun was already setting, but nodded.
Mitch pushed himself out of the booth with a loud grunt, stretching his arms above his head like he’d been trapped in there for days.
My legs were stiff from sitting, and the thought of leaving—even with Mitch beside me—felt like a small relief.
I followed him toward the door, tucking my hands into my coat pockets and letting the November chill bite at my cheeks.
Outside, the cold hit harder than I expected. I buttoned up my coat and shivered, though it wasn’t entirely the weather making me tense. Mitch fell into step beside me again, moving too close, and I instinctively sidestepped, just enough to put some space between us.
I thought we’d walk straight to the car, but Mitch paused a few steps from the door.
We were still right beside the window of the shop, so the light from in there was spilling over us.
Then his hand lifted, almost casually, and he reached toward my face.
I froze. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The touch was light, barely there, but my skin prickled where he’d touched me, every nerve screaming.
I forced myself not to flinch, not to pull away too fast and make it obvious how much I hated it.
“There,” he said, smiling. “That was driving me crazy.”
I did my best to hide my grimace. I didn’t move his hand right away.
It hovered near my collarbone for half a second too long before dropping back to his side.
I exhaled slowly, pretending to focus on the uneven cracks in the sidewalk.
He rocked back on his heels, hands sliding into his pockets like he was settling in instead of getting ready to leave.
“You know,” he said, glancing at the window and then back at me, “you look really good today.”
My skin prickled. I murmured a distracted, “Thanks,” still staring at the ground.
“No, I mean it,” he went on, clearly encouraged. “Like… really good. I almost didn’t recognize you when you walked up to the car.”
That hadn’t been a compliment so much as an observation, but I didn’t bother correcting him. I shifted my weight, the cold seeping through the soles of my shoes.
He stepped closer again, just enough that I could smell his cologne, sharp and too strong in the cold air. “You clean up nice,” he added, lowering his voice like he was letting me in on a secret.
My shoulders tightened. “We should probably go,” I said lightly, gesturing toward the parking lot.
He laughed under his breath. “Sure.” Before I could respond, he reached out again—not to my hair this time, but to the sleeve of my coat, fingers brushing my wrist as if to anchor me there.
I stiffened.
The light from the shop flickered as someone passed by inside, briefly illuminating Mitch’s face—and for a second, the grin slipped, replaced by something faintly irritated.
Then it was back, brighter than before. “You’re kind of adorable when you play hard to get,” he said.
My stomach dropped.
“I’m not playing,” I said quietly.
He tilted his head, studying me, like he was deciding whether that was true. “Sure you are. Do you know how many girls would kill to be taken out like that?” He nodded back toward the shop, like frozen yogurt and awkward conversation were some grand gesture.
“Then feel free to take one of them out next time.”
“But I don’t want to date someone else, I want to date you.”
I glanced up at him then, meeting his eyes for a brief second. “Mitch, I’m flattered. Really, but I told you I don’t really like dates.”
“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. “But you’ve gotta admit, there’s something there. Don’t you feel that spark between us too?”
I shifted again, the concrete cold under my feet, the glow from the shop suddenly feeling too bright. “I’m sorry, I just don’t.”
He leaned back against the window, folding his arms, blocking the most direct path toward the parking lot without fully meaning to—or maybe meaning to just enough. “Well why don’t we try a second date. A different location. Out of town maybe, so that guy can’t ruin it this time.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, determined to just call it a night and get home.
Before I could move, he reached out again, slower this time, like he was giving me time to pull away. His fingers brushed the edge of my sleeve, then slid lightly to my hand.
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
I didn’t yank my hand back. I should have. Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, hating the way my body seemed to freeze instead of react.
“Please, Imogen,” he said quietly. “I’m just trying to see where we stand.”
I swallowed, feeling slightly guilty for disappointing him. “We’re standing right here. That’s it.”
He chuckled under his breath, thumb brushing once over my knuckles, too familiar for someone who hadn’t earned it. “If we could just have a date where he doesn’t show up, then I think you’ll see—”
I pulled my hand free.
“I don’t want this,” I said, still calm, still measured, even though my pulse was racing. “I’ve been pretty clear about that.”
His smile faltered for half a second, then reshaped itself into something more determined. “Imogen—”
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I really am. It’s just not going to happen,” I said. He stared at me for a beat, his expression melting into disbelief. I shifted on my feet in the awkwardness, then, without looking at him, I quietly said, “Can you take me home now?”
That seemed to annoy him. He straightened, jaw tightening just a little. “Wow,” he said. “You make it sound like I forced you to be out here tonight.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” His tone sharpened, then softened again, like he was course-correcting. “Look, I’m just saying… most people would be grateful.”
“For what?” I asked quietly.
He laughed, low and humorless. “For the attention. For the effort. I don’t usually try this hard.”
I took a step back, bumping lightly into the cold glass of the window behind me. “Then maybe you should stop trying.”
For a moment, he just stared at me like he couldn’t quite believe I’d said it. The noise from inside the shop faded into the background, and the parking lot suddenly felt too quiet.
Mitch glanced past me, just briefly—so quick I almost missed it. His eyes flicked to the window, to the inside of the shop, and something sharpened in his expression, like a decision clicking into place.
Before I could move, he stepped in.
Not fast. Not rough. Just close enough that the space I’d been carefully guarding disappeared all at once. His hand came up to the window beside my head, palm flat against the glass, boxing me in without technically touching me again.
“Mitch,” I said, my voice low and tight. “Don’t.”
He smiled like he hadn’t heard me. Like this was the moment he’d been building toward all night. “It’s just a kiss,” he murmured. “To prove to you that there’s a spark.”
He leaned in.
I turned my head instinctively, the movement sharp and immediate. His lips brushed my cheek instead of my mouth, but my stomach still dropped.
“No,” I said again, louder this time, pushing lightly at his chest. “I said no.”
The door behind us banged open.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cole’s voice cracked through the night, rough and furious. Relief washed over me just at the sound of his voice.
Mitch turned just in time to sneer, “Stay out of it—”
Cole didn’t.
He crossed the distance in two strides. His arm pulled back. Then he swung, fast and unforgiving.
The punch landed hard, snapping Mitch’s head to the side with a sickening thud. Mitch staggered back, colliding with the window, shock written all over his face.
“Don’t,” Cole said, already grabbing the front of Mitch’s jacket and shoving him away from me. “Ever. Touch her. Again.”
Mitch recovered enough to shove back, stumbling but not falling. “You psycho—”
Cole hit him again.
This one sent Mitch reeling, feet skidding on the concrete. Someone inside the shop gasped. I heard Katie yell Cole’s name, sharp and panicked.
“Cole!” I started, my heart pounding.
Cole didn’t look back. His shoulders were tense, fists clenched, breathing heavy as he stalked forward again.
“I warned you,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “I told you to leave her alone.”
Mitch wiped at his mouth, staring at the blood on his knuckles from the fall like he couldn’t believe this was real. Anger flashed across his face, replacing the smug confidence from seconds ago.
He lunged. It was sloppy and rushed, more anger than skill, but it still connected enough to snap Cole’s head to the side. I sucked in a sharp breath.
Cole didn’t go down.
He barely even staggered.
Instead, he grabbed Mitch by the front of his jacket and drove him backward, forcing him into the side of a parked car with a loud thud. Mitch let out a startled curse, hands flying up as Cole shoved him again, pinning him there.
“I’m not going to warn you again,” Cole said, voice low and furious.
Mitch shoved back, managing to slip free, and swung again. This time Cole blocked it easily and returned the favor, a sharp punch that sent Mitch stumbling sideways across the pavement.
Startled shrieks sounded from inside the shop. I was frozen in place, eyes wide and breath coming out in gasps as I watched the fight, unable to look away.
Mitch regained his footing and rushed him, tackling Cole around the shoulders. They crashed to the ground together, skidding across the sidewalk in a tangle of limbs.
“Cole!” I shouted again.
For a split second, his eyes connected with mine. Then, Cole rolled them over, coming up fast, already back on his feet. Mitch scrambled up too, breathing hard now, confidence cracking. He swung again, wild and desperate, but Cole dodged and shoved him backward.
“Stop,” Cole snapped.
His chest was heaving, fists clenched at his sides. For a long second, I thought he might go back for him, but after what felt like an eternity, he stepped back.
“Don’t go near her again,” Cole said, voice steady but dangerous. “Ever.”
Mitch just glared after him, a red splotch already blossoming on his cheek from the punch. Cole held his gaze as he backed up a few steps. Once he was right next to me, he finally broke the stare and looked to me, his eyes held a hint of worry as they roamed over my face, my arms, my body.
“Are you okay?” he asked. I simply nodded in reply. I was okay now. I may have just watched him throw several punches, but I still felt far more comfortable with him than I ever did with Mitch. I felt safe. Cole dipped his chin once. “Good. Let’s get out of here.”
I nodded again, not able to talk past the shock. I didn’t spare Mitch another glance as Cole wrapped a gentle arm around my shoulders and led me away from the scene of the fight.