As Cole continues to talk, I watch the way that his mouth moves and how the soft light catches the golden flecks in his eyes. He talks about races and his teammates. He tells me about the playful bets that they have going and the dirty word game that the guys play on the bus on the way to meets.
“It wasn’t dirty,” I say. “But when I was on the swim team in high school, we’d do this one where you take one letter out of a book title and come up with an entirely new book.”
He pushes his thick blond hair back from his forehead. “Like what? Give me an example.”
I think about it. “Okay… To Ill a Mockingbird is an obvious choice. And The Sound and the Fur.” I hold up a finger for every made-up title that I list. “Rapes of Wrath, Of Mice and Me, and my personal favorite… Mob Dick.”
Cole cracks up. “I’m afraid to ask what that one’s about.”
I’m grinning, pleased with myself. “Now it’s your turn.”
He clears his throat. “How about… Rave New World?”
I nod my head in approval. “Good one.”
“Okay, I’ve got another.”
“What is it?”
“The Da Vinci Cod. It’s the absorbing tale of a detective who follows the trail of a murder at The Louvre and uncovers a two thousand year old disagreement between the Priory of Scion and the Catholic Church over whether or not Jesus was a pescetarian.”
I laugh so hard that I almost spit out my drink. We go back and forth with titles until neither one of us can think of any more. I prop my elbows on the table and lean forward. “So, um, getting back to the interview… Tell me how a Nebraska boy got into running to begin with.”
“A Nebraska boy?” He’s amused. “I like that. It makes me sound like a wholesome farmhand just trying to get an honest day of work done.”
“Wholesome isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind when I think of you.”
“Fair enough,” Cole smirks. “The way that I got into running is that when I was eleven we had this neighbor who coached a local boy’s track team. My mom thought it would be a good idea to get me into an activity. She told me that it would be great for me—build confidence and strength and all that shit.” He hesitates, swallowing audibly. “I… I was sort of small back then and kids at school picked on me and she seemed convinced that athletics was the answer to my problems.”
I try to picture Cole as a little kid with scrawny arms and a head full of blond floppy hair. “And was it?”
Cole looks down and examines the garlic knot that he’s holding between his fingers. “In some ways it was.” He pauses and I see his jaw working. “The thing is that when I look back, I realize that my mom was probably just screwing around with the guy—the coach. She didn’t want to help or make me better. That woman never gave a flying fuck about me or whether or not I was okay. Even back then she was only interested in one thing. Herself.”
I suck in my breath and Cole’s eyes flick to mine. “I—I—”
“You don’t have to say anything. Please don’t tell me how sorry you are. That’s the worst thing that people can say.” He clears his throat. “I don’t really like to talk about my mom because it makes people weird. And I wanted tonight to—” He stops himself and closes his eyes for a moment. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”
So that’s what I do. I don’t let Cole know that the hitch in his voice has turned me inside out. I sit on my side of the booth and obediently eat a few of the garlic knots and way too much pizza. And somehow I wind up telling him about the time that Jillian and I ordered pizza to her car. He looks confused, so I explain. “I was seeing this guy and he was in a band—a very bad one, I might add. Anyway, one night we had to wait for him in a parking lot after a show to give him a ride. It took longer than it should have and eventually Jilly got sick of it so she ordered a pizza to her car.”
Cole laughs and shakes his head. “That answers one of my questions.”
“What’s that?”
“Obviously you used to date,” he concludes. “And he was a musician? I didn’t take you as the type to fall for a guy with a guitar. It’s so cliché.”
I feel my skin flush. “Yeah, well… I was a bit different back then.” Cole isn’t asking but I can see the questions all over his face. I know that I have the words. They’re broken, but they’re in my head. “You know that Daniel’s little sister was my best friend, right?”
He nods.