In This Moment(33)

She’s still looking out the window. Her profile is shadowed, but I can see the tiny hairs curling around the delicate skin of her face. I want to push them back behind her ear so that I can see her more clearly. I want to cup my hand on the back of her neck and pull her mouth to mine so that I can open up her lips with my tongue. I want to trace the dips and curves of her body with my fingertips and I want to memorize every single inch of her.

But that’s not happening.

Not tonight.

Tonight is about pacing.

Tonight is not about my dick. It’s about being smart.

“So,” I say as I pull up to the curb in front of her place. She lives smack-dab in the middle of a small row of upscale townhomes a few miles from campus. Each unit is protected from the street by a curved stucco wall. The exterior of the entire complex is painted an obnoxious color that seems to only exist in Florida. I would describe it as the evil offspring of pink and peach. I’m guessing that a girl like Aimee would call it coral. “Did you get everything that you need from me for the interview?”

Aimee frowns slightly. “I think so.”

I try not to be obvious about the disappointment storming around in my head. I’m about to tell her good night, but then Aimee starts talking. “I think it’ll be enough, but I probably should have asked you some more general stuff—you know, for background.”

“Like what?” I prompt.

Aimee’s shoulders rise up around her neck. She’s biting her bottom lip again. “Like your favorite color, and the three movies you would take to a deserted island with you, and what kind of music you listen to when you’re getting ready for a race.” Her eyes dart to mine. “I guess you can come inside if you want and we can finish up…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“No,” I say, shaking my head decisively. “I’m actually kind of tired. Can we do the rest of the interview tomorrow?”

Aimee seems a bit surprised, but I’ll give her this—she rallies. She opens the passenger door and hops down from the truck. “Do you want to try to meet on campus sometime during the day? It shouldn’t take me very long.”

“Nah.” I let my eyes rest on hers. “I don’t have practice tomorrow so that means I’m free at night.”

Aimee’s face pinches together. She runs a finger through her long hair and bounces the open truck door against her hipbone. “And? What does that mean, Cole?”

“And, that means that I’ll pick you up at seven.” I lift my eyebrows suggestively. “So be ready.”





CHAPTER SEVEN





Aimee



“You’re acting like this a date.”

I turn my body away from the full-length mirror to look at Mara. “But it’s not a date. Cole and I are friends or at least something sort of like friends. I honestly don’t know how to explain it—it’s weird.”

It is weird, whatever it is we’re doing. I know that it’s just an interview for an assignment, but that’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy myself last night.

I like Cole. I do. I’ve discovered that contrary to popular belief, he’s not an asshole. And even though I can’t go there with him, I like the idea of being around him. I just wish that I didn’t enjoy looking at him so much.

“Okaaaay…” Mara leans back against my headboard. Her arms are loosely crossed above her head. “But once again, you just seem really concerned about what you’re wearing. And let’s be clear: the dress that you’ve got on right now is definitely a date kind of dress.”

I glance at the pile of discarded clothes on my bedroom floor and back to my reflection in the mirror. Seeing myself through my sister’s eyes is a major reality check. I look like… well, she’s right. I look like I’m going on a date. I’ve got on a white sundress that my mother bought for me last year but that I haven’t been brave enough to wear yet. It’s strapless with stitching laced across the bust and a scalloped hem that swishes femininely around my knees. I know that even taking into account the scar running down my neck and collarbone, the dress makes my shoulders look dainty. The starch white of the material is nice against my coloring, but it’s too much. Way too much.

“Freaking craptastic.”

Mara laughs. “I’ve got to say that aside from the fact that he’s slept with half the girls on campus, I think that you could do a lot worse than Cole if you did want to, you know, try.”

She’s teasing, but her words are edged with a hopefulness that sucks everything in and spits it back out. The truth is that a part of me—the part that decided to put on this dress and apply an extra coat of mascara to my eyelashes—is trying. And that’s not just unsettling… It’s terrifying.