Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
It almost felt like a threat.
“Dear god, no. Not that.”
I would never recover from being in his arms, though walking alongside him like that wasn’t much different. He had such a firm grip on me. Our hips, arms, chest, legs—everything touched, eliciting sparks, as we trudged slowly down the path. When I swayed on my feet, he held me tighter. When I was hit with a wave of nausea, he paused and told me to take a few calming breaths. I wouldn’t even say we were going at a snail’s pace. A snail shouted at us to get the hell out of his way as we took slow steps toward my dorm.
“Jell-O shots,” I explained, even though he never asked.
“Mmm,” he hummed without a hint of judgment.
“It could have happened to anyone.”
“I have no doubt. I’ve been there.”
“You have? When? Tell me everything.”
He laughed then and adjusted his grip, which made his closed fist accidentally brush against my breast. I froze. He froze. Then we both slowly looked at each other.
Was it the moonlight, or did his eyes have a gentle kindness in them tonight?
I didn’t make it very far with that line of thinking, because a second later, my stomach decided to steal the show.
I managed to get out a desperate “I’m going to be sick” mere milliseconds before bending at the waist and making good on that promise. At least I had the forethought to turn away from him.
Cole didn’t abandon me like he could have. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I begged him to go so he wouldn’t see me at my worst, utterly defenseless, weak, and sick. I’d worked hard up until that point to make Cole like me, and if not like me, then at least respect me as an adversary. Now it was too late for that. It was so embarrassing to be a full-grown adult and drunk to the point of being sick. I have no doubt he wanted to chastise me for it, but instead, he held my hair back as I threw up again.
He told me it would be okay, that I would feel better soon.
His niceness made me cry harder.
Cole stayed with me on that path until I had the energy to walk again. I got the impression that he would have preferred to just lug me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and be done with the hellacious task of tending to me, though maybe it was in his best interest to make sure I was safe and well. What’s a superhero without a villain? If I died, he’d lose his plot.
Outside my room, he took my key out of my purse and helped me unlock the door.
“Do not look at my shit,” I said, like there was any dignity to salvage.
Thank god my room was relatively tidy. My bed was made, my pillows arranged just so. My bulletin board was covered with pictures of my parents and me that we’d taken during all our travels. Tiny Paige swimming with dolphins. Adolescent Paige suffering through the Drake Passage on the way to Antarctica. Teenager Paige waving from the side of a research vessel.
Cole didn’t listen to me. He looked wherever he damn well pleased. I suppose he thought it was payment for his service. He helped me get here safely; he deserved some kind of reward.
“You were a cute kid,” he said, leaning in to look at my pictures, pointing to a zoomed-in one of me going to town on a towering ice cream cone.
“And now?”
He looked back at me over his shoulder, eyes narrowed as if he was really thinking about it. My stomach squeezed tight.
“Never mind. Don’t answer that,” I said quickly. “I only just stopped crying. I don’t have the energy for your barbs tonight.”
He frowned like I’d wounded him, but I was already en route to my bed. It looked so good, so clean and welcoming. That fluffy white blanket was just waiting for me.
“I wouldn’t,” he warned, making me stop dead in my tracks.
Then he pointed at my clothes. I didn’t even need to look down to realize why he thought it was a bad idea. Of course. I needed to shower and change immediately.
I didn’t think I could muster the energy, though. The simple concept of having to prolong my collapse onto my bed sent me down to my knees. By this point I was crawling over to my dresser to get clothes. Showering? Not possible.
Cole stuck it out. “I’ll help you. C’mon.”
From my hands and knees, I protested. “No. Get Lara or Camila.”
“They’re as drunk as you are.”
He was already ushering me toward my bathroom. There was no tub, just a walk-in shower with a translucent white curtain. He turned the water on and checked to make sure it was the perfect temperature. Then he told me to get in.