In This Moment(6)

Cole



Fuck. She’s blushing and I’m hooked. Just like that.

I’ve got to admit something. I love a girl who blushes and if I know girls—and I do—this is one of those chicks that blushes all of the time.

My eyes move over the thin scar on her neck and drop to the dark shorts and the loose fitting blue top that does not even come close to doing those eyes of hers justice. I’m used to girls parading around in tight shirts with their tits pushed up in my face, so her laid-back outfit is a nice change of pace. And she doesn’t have to prove a point with her clothes because I know that underneath all that fabric she’s got a tight body. I felt it when she fell onto my lap an hour ago.

I take a step closer, drawn in to the gentle lines of her face. She twists a coil of her long, wavy dark hair over her shoulder and breathes in through her nose. Her clear blue eyes widen and she does it again.

Wait. Is this chick smelling me?

“Ivory,” I say in amusement.

She looks confused so I clarify: “My soap. I use Ivory in case you were wondering.”

Jesus. If you had asked me five seconds ago, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for her skin to go even redder, but I would be wrong. Now, she’s stammering and her breathing is all funny and I sort of regret the joke. My intention wasn’t to make her uncomfortable. I’ve just been wondering what it would be like to see this girl smile—to be the one to make her smile.

Afraid that if I look at her too much longer, she’ll bolt or something, I tear my eyes from her face. “Noelle, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Noelle puts a hand on her hip. “I am very familiar with this little game and I’m advising you to go flash that devilish smile elsewhere. If you think I’ve forgotten about Rachel and Deena then you’re mistaken.”

I cringe. Clearly I’ve forgotten about Rachel and Deena because I have no idea what she’s talking about. I like to think of Noelle as a friend, but judging from the nasty glare that she’s giving me, our relationship status is more ambiguous than I previously thought.

“Noelle, you’ve got this all wrong. I’m just being friendly.”

Noelle’s not buying it, which, let’s face it, is probably smart of her. “Friendly my ass. Aimee is one of my girls, not a member of the panty-dropping bimbo squad.”

Aimee. I let the name roll around my head, making room for the idea of her. “Well, if she’s your friend, you should be happy that I’m being so charming.”

Noelle shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. I already warned you not to play this shit around me. I declare this one an official safe zone.”

I feel my pasted on smile start to slip. Damn. Noelle’s not exactly giving me the glowing recommendation that I had hoped for. I rub the heel of my hand over my face and feel my shoulders rising toward my ears.

“What’s a safe zone?” A small voice asks.

I look over. Aimee has finally worked up the courage to interject herself into the conversation. Her mouth is puckered up and her light eyes are rounded. She’s got this one freckle on her cheek that’s fucking killing me.

Noelle gives Aimee a significant look. “That means that you are off-limits and that Cole has to keep his hands and his slut-boy tendencies to himself.” I think that she deliberately exaggerates the word slut for my benefit.

“Ouch!” I throw my hand over my heart and toss my head back in a show of mock-hurt. “What if I’m trying to turn over a new leaf and by automatically making the assumption that I’m hitting on your hot friend, you’re pigeonholing me and effectively halting my growth as a human being?”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Noelle replies, rolling her eyes at me.

The thing is that I’m not joking. I’ve felt it before—that unexpected zing that happens when you check out a particular chick—but this is different. Something about Aimee has my interest piqued. It’s true that she’s hot. Damn. With all that dark hair and those blue eyes, she’s fucking on fire. But I’m not making a play to get her into bed—I just want to know a little more about her. Call it curiosity.

Shit. Even in my own head that sounds like some overused pick-up line. I don’t know why I’m pushing this. Zing or no zing, I’m usually not the type to pursue a random. I’m a smile-and-let-them-come-to-me kind of guy.

And maybe that’s what’s happening here. I can sense the challenge in front of me and I’m craving it—a typical caveman reaction. Aimee doesn’t seem completely immune to me, but she’s definitely not looking at me like she wants to eat me either. It’s been a while since I’ve come across a chick that made me try, and I’m a guy that’s naturally drawn to a fight—on and off the track.