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“Sure,” I said, sounding more calm than I felt. The fact that Cole had said five consecutive words to me and was handing me a fork felt like an olive branch. It was the nicest he’d been to me all day.
The beef was tender and juicy. “It’s delish,” I declared.
He nodded. “Is yours really okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” The server deposited more drinks and more bottles of wine, clearing away the empties. We each had an eager, unnecessary sip. Maybe if I were drunk, it wouldn’t count if I talked to Cole like a human being. “It’s a real pretty view,” I said, motioning to the city stretching below us.
He looked up at me, and I caught it—a flash of relief in his blue, blue eyes. “I was hoping you’d like it,” he admitted.
“You were?”
He nodded, then looked back down at his plate. “I think I’m pretty buzzed,” he said.
“Yeah. Me too.”
He took a deep breath. “Do you want to just get drunk?”
A little zip of excitement tickled my belly. I wasn’t sure why Cole was asking, but it seemed promising. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.” He sounded like a little boy, lost and looking for some sign of encouragement.
“We’re on the same page.” I pulled my chair closer to his. I could feel the energy radiating off of him. Cole,myCole, was so close. He was just below the surface of that gloomy but handsome exterior.
And that was all I wanted: him.
Even if I paid for it tomorrow—and every day after that for forever—it was worth it. I just had to feel him, to be close to him one last time. Otherwise, I might seriously lose my mind.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
“Cheers,” he said, raising his fresh rum punch to mine. “To tonight.”
“To tonight.”
He hesitated. And then he slowly reached over and put his hand on my thigh.
At that moment, I was pretty sure I knew what heaven felt like because I died a little bit from happiness.
“The thingis,”I said, jabbing my finger in the air for emphasis, “red velvet’s the best because it’sred. And I don’t even really like the color red, but it’schocolate in disguise.Do you even get that?”
“I don’t think that changes things,” Cole argued.
I stuffed some of my cupcake into my mouth. “Red,” I said through a mouthful. “It’s genius. Chocolate in disguise. Go ahead and take notes.”
“Vanilla’s better,” Cole insisted. “Because it’svanilla. It doesn’t have to hide.”
“That’s because it’s freakin’ boring!” I said, raising my voice. “Red velvet’s the best because you don’t even know what it is until you bite into it. Then—voila!” I polished off my cupcake for emphasis. “It gives you everything you ever wanted and more.”
People were staring. We’d claimed a bench at Faneuil Hall Marketplace, and our neighbors had jumped tables to escape us.That’s how drunk we were. Drunk and loud, arguing over who had the best cupcake, Cole or me.
“You’ve got frosting on your face.” He gently wiped me with a napkin. “My frosting’s better, by the way. It’s buttercream—light and airy.”
“It’s not better,” I argued. “Buttercream’s for pussies. It’s barely frosting. It’s a frostingaberration.”
“Nah, you’re wrong.” Cole made kissy faces at his cupcake. “Buttercream’s my bitch.”
I threw up my hands. “Cream cheese frosting is the best! Everybody knows that.”
