“I’m not a mess,” I say, fighting the urge to shrink and show him his words hit the way he intended. No, instead I channel every bit of girl boss energy I have deep inside and glare right back at him. “And I’m not desperate enough to agree to this arrangement, so you can leave.”
Cole is the only one who can make me feel this small, and not in a good way.
Tall people who make my five-eleven frame feel tiny?
Awesome.
Whatever this small, pathetic feeling is?
Awful. Itchy. Squirmy.
Zero out of ten. I would not recommend.
He holds my stare, harsh lines edging his mouth.
One beat.
Two.
Maybe three.
I don’t cower. I don’t back down. I don’t blink.
“Right,” he sighs. “Well, have a Merry Christmas then, Natalie.”
He turns away, and I catch a flash of a pink peony bouquet in his other hand.
My favorite.
“Were those for me?” I ask. Cole’s footsteps echo down the tiled hallway. He stops and looks at the flowers.
“What these? Nah.”
“Seriously, Cole. Did Caden get those flowers for me?” I shut my door, locking it, and chase him down.
“I thought he’d at least tell you he’s in Michigan,” he hollers, walking away.
“Yeah, but before he left,” I say. “Because if he did, I think he’d still want me to have them, even if his plan was shit. I should thank him anyways and apologize for wanting to kill him.”
Cole’s shoulders tense. He rakes a hand through his hair. It’s freshly cut, come to think of it, he was freshly shaven too, which is weird where his hockey team is in the playoffs. In the doorway, I was only focused on Cole’s face, but now I notice the sleek black dress pants and the thick cable-knit sweater he’s wearing.Slowly, he turns around, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I bought them for you, Natalie, so save your apologies for someone who deserves it.”
“You bought me flowers?” I ask, struggling to understand why Cole not only agreed to help his brother out considering he loathes my presence entirely, but also went out of his way to buy me flowers. “Why?”
He tilts his head. “Because I told Caden I’d pretend you’ve been dating me instead? I thought you got his plan with your whole cyber-assault.”
Dillon never bought me flowers—not even for prom. My finger traces my wrist. The hollow pang in my gut returns, remembering watching all the girls admire each other’s corsages, telling myself I should be thankful that someone like Dillon was even paying me attention.
“But you don’t buy people flowers.” Internally, nothing feels right. My skin is itchy, tight. I want to crawl out of it. Because…it feels nice getting flowers. Cole is making me feel…nice.
“I’d buy you flowers,” he says, softly.
At the foreign soft timber of his voice, I meet his eyes. He’s not wearing his usual harsh scowl—his eyes pleading with me, as if he wants to say something, but can’t. I shift my weight on my foot. This is wrong. No one is here. He shouldn’t be performing. “You don’t have to mock me,” I say, deflecting.
He drops the act and shakes his head. “You’re welcome for the flowers, Natalie,” he says, heading toward the stairwell that leads to his apartment.
With each distancing step, a nagging question digs deeper into my psyche. One I don’t want to hang over me all of Christmas break.
“Why would you even agree to this, anyway?” I call again, chasing him and saying goodbye to whatever little dignity I had left.
