In This Moment (22 page)

Cole

I blink against the bright sunlight to make sure that I’m not seeing things. I’m stretching out with the team on the grassy lawn in the center of the track. Today we’re hosting an informal invitational—just a chance for the division teams to showcase what they’re capable of. I sure as shit hadn’t planned to push myself, but then Aimee surprises me by actually showing up.

   
“Isn’t that your girlfriend?” Quentin elbows me just below my ribs.

   
With hungry eyes, I swallow and watch her make her way up the stands. She’s wearing a pair of shorts and a plain white top that molds to her chest like a second skin. The air is heavy with humidity so she’s piled all that hair of hers on the top of her head in a messy bun and a few strands have fallen down to play with her neck. When she sees me, she smiles a wide, toothy grin and waves.

   
Quentin shakes his head. “She’s got a killer body, man. Be sure to give her my number when she finally figures out what a shithead you are.”

   
I don’t know if I’m pissed because he’s looking at her or if it’s because I’m not really allowed to call her my girlfriend since that’s a label that has yet to be approved. “She’s not my girlfriend. And don’t fucking stare at her. It’s rude.”

   
“Not your girlfriend?” Quentin cocks his head to the side. “But she is your girl, right?”

   
I pull on the back of my neck and frown at him. “Yeah, I guess…”

   
“Then chill, man.” He hooks his arm around my shoulders. “The rest is just semantics.”

   
Maybe he’s right. I want to believe it.

   
I’m up in the third heat. Kicking out my legs and rotating my ankles, I settle in at the start. I can feel the tingle of Aimee’s eyes on me and my heart pounds harder than ever. When the high-pitch signal sounds, I push off and I swear that my feet sprout fucking wings.

   
As I cross the finish line going full out, my body completely jacked-up, I know without seeing the digits on the clock that not only have I easily trounced the pack, I’ve just run my fastest time. It’s mayhem. The guys are on me all at once, yelling and slapping me on the back, hooting in my ears. Pushing back, I lift my eyes to the stands and find her. She’s jumping up and down and clapping like everyone else and this crazy, awesome feeling zips through me and it’s all I can do not to hop the barrier to the bleachers and go to her.

   
Much later, after I win in the finals and we celebrate with a large pizza and a bottle of warm champagne that I stole from Adam, I watch her while she sleeps. She’s cocooned between my arms and the pillow with the soft light from the TV playing across her features. Using one finger, I trace the faint jagged line of her scar. I kiss each of her eyelids. Her sooty lashes flutter and she mumbles but she doesn’t wake up. I smile and kiss her again, just craving her skin and everything that is inside of this moment.

   
I wish that she could stay like this—peaceful, no trace of the fear or sadness that she wears around during the day. I hate what she told me last week about the pills and the fucking car. I keep thinking of her voice and how small she had seemed curled up on the seat of my truck.

   
Suicide.
It’s goddamn terrifying. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that this beautiful, brilliant girl ever considered ending her life.

   
“Hey you,” she murmurs, blinking her eyes open. She lifts her arm and runs her finger from the top of my forehead down the center of my face. “What are you thinking about? You look so sad.”

   
I grip her wrist. I am sad but I don’t want to tell her that. “Didn’t you have anyone else after Jillian died?”

   
Her eyelids fall closed and she’s quiet for so long that I start to think she’s fallen back into sleep. Then, she swallows purposefully and I know that she’s still awake.

   
“No,” she says finally. “I didn’t need anyone else until Jillian died.”

    I’m quiet, thinking. Aimee’s arm rel
axes over my chest and she wraps her leg over mine. When her breathing has evened out and I know that she’s gone back to sleep, I pull her body closer and breathe in the scent of her hair. “Now you have me.”

Aimee

insecurity [in-si-kyoo r-it-ee]

noun, plural
in-se-cu-ri-ties.

1.
       
lack of confidence; self-doubt

2.
      
the state of being insecure

    “It’s Aimee, right?”

   
I pop an earbud out and I look up and see bright purple fingernails tapping the barrier that surrounds my study carrel.

   
“I’m Kate Dutton.” She drops into the seat next to mine and leans back. Her light blonde hair is wound into a loose knot below her left ear. She’s wearing fitted shorts and a lime green tank top. Her earrings are tiny golden starbursts. “Alpha Chi in case you were curious. I actually know your sister from a couple of Greek events. Oh, and obviously I know Cole.”

   
I don’t say hello or tell her that I already know her name. I don’t ask her what she wants. I just sit there with one white earbud dangling and a blank expression on my face.

   
“You’re really pretty,” she says, surprising me. Kate Dutton is honestly one of the prettiest girls that I’ve ever seen. I don’t want it to be true but she’s better up close than she was from far away. She’s got straight teeth and perfect golden skin—the kind you see on models in magazines post-Photoshop. Sitting here next to her makes me feel dark and pocked and small. “Not that I’m surprised about that. It’s par for the course, right?” When I still don’t talk, Kate shrugs, makes a funny face. “I just saw you and I figured that I should introduce myself. Considering…”

   
I swallow. “Considering what?”

    She smiles brazenly.
“Considering that soon you’ll be like me and all of the other disposable pretty girls. Passed over for fresh blood.”

Cole

“Wait a second!” Her hand darts out to the side table. “What is that ringtone?”

   
“It’s nothing.” I climb on top of her and grab the phone from her hand. She starts laughing and poking me in the stomach just below my belly button.

   
“Umm, that’s not nothing.” Her nose twitches. “Cole, is that…
Rihanna
?”

   
I silence my phone and settle my head back into the bed pillow. “For your information, Rihanna is my little sister’s favorite.”

   
“That was Sophie calling?”

   
I nod warily.

   
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why didn’t you answer it?”

   
“Because I know that she’ll want to FaceTime and I’m…” I look around her bedroom and down at her bare, creamy breasts, and I smirk. “I’m
here
in your bedroom
,
and you’re pretty close to being buck naked. That’s not exactly the message I want to send to a thirteen year old girl.”

   
“Excuse me? Are you trying to call me a slut?” She pushes herself out of the bed and finds her shirt on the floor.

   
My hands are over my head, showing that I’m defenseless. “I would never call you a slut. In fact,” I laugh, “I think that I like you slutty. I simply m—”

   
She cuts me off, slipping the wrinkled shirt over her head. “Forget it, Everly. Call your sister back.”

   
“Now?” I ask, kind of enjoying this bossy side of her.

   
Aimee is digging around her desk drawer for something. She looks over her shoulder and smiles impishly. “Yes. Now.”

   
“But…”

   
“No buts, Cole.” She finds a rubber band and starts winding her dark hair into a knot. I love watching her do mundane things like this. “I’m dressed now and I want to see what she looks like.”

   
“You’ve seen photos.” It’s true. I showed her some pictures of Sophie the other day.

   
“I want to see her with
you
.” Her voice is subdued and it instantly unhinges me. The mattress dips as she rejoins me on the bed and bends her legs under her butt.

   
“Yeah?” I trail my finger down the slope of her nose.

   
“Yes, so put your shirt on too. We don’t want your sister to get the wrong idea about us.”

   
Feeling a bit of a rush, I laugh from deep in my chest. “Okaaaay, bossy lady.”

   
Aimee props herself up a bit straighter and waits. The phone rings twice before Sophie answers. I can tell right away that she’s in the backyard of our house. Her long blonde hair is speckled in sunlight and the ridiculous dog is wheezing and slobbering all over her.

   
I launch right into it. “Sophie, I got that dog to keep you company, not turn you into a slimy ball of drool.”

   
“Awww, be nice. You know that Babs can’t help it. She’s just excited to talk to you. I told her it was you calling and she ran over here as fast as her little legs would carry her.”

   
“I should have gotten you a lab or some kind of real dog. That thing looks like she’s missing half her face.”

   
“Hey! She’s a pug and that’s how she’s supposed to look,” Sophie defends. Then her eyes zero in on the screen and I can almost hear the squeal before it even begins. “Who’s that? Is it
Aimee
?”

   
Aimee looks at me with surprised eyes. Did she think she was a secret or something?

   
“Yes,” I say turning the phone. “Sophie, this is Aimee. Aimee, this is my bratty little sister, Sophie.”

   
“Ohmigosh, it’s so nice to meet or, um, talk to you finally. I thought you might be a fake person or like a figment of his imagination because Cole
never
has a girlfriend, but here you are. You’re real and you’re so pretty.”

   
Aimee flushes pink. I wonder what she thinks of the “girlfriend” comment. She takes the phone out of my hand so that she can see my sister better. “Not as pretty as you. And your dog there is adorable. Don’t listen to what your brother says about her. I’ve always loved pugs and when I was your age, I begged my parents for a dog but my sister is allergic. I thought we should get a dog anyway and get rid of her.”

    Sophie laughs and they talk some more about the dog. Then my sister changes the direction of the conversation.
“So, Aimee… my brother has told me
so
much about you.”

   
Aimee’s eyebrows go to the top of her head. Her gaze slides over to me. “He has? All good stuff I hope.”

    S
ophie giggles. “Of course it’s good. Actually, it’s better than
good
. For the past few weeks, every time your name comes up he starts gush—”

   
“That’s enough!” I interject. It’s okay for Aimee to know that I’ve mentioned her to my little sister. She does not need the detailed play by play. Taking the phone back, I lean on my side. “So, how is he?”

    Sophie
knows that I mean our dad. She shrugs. “I guess he’s fine. We had dinner together Tuesday night. I made us tacos.”

   
“That’s progress at least. And what about everything else? Have you heard from her?” I wonder if Aimee understands that I’m asking my little sister about our mom.

   
My sister drops her head, shielding her eyes. “Yeah, she called the house last week and left a message.”

   
“She tried me a few weeks ago.”

   
Sophie looks directly at the camera. “Did you talk to her?”

    I frown. “No.”

    Sophie is quick to answer. “Me neither.”

   
“Sophie,” I say, brushing my hair out of my face. “You know that if you want to talk to her, you can.”

   
My little sister’s mouth is set in a grim line. She swallows hard. “If you’re not going to talk to her then neither am I.”

   
Shit. This conversation is getting a little intense considering the fact that Aimee is right next to me. I’ll deal with it later. “Fine. I want to hear how school is going.”

    “Oh,
it’s the usual. Aaron Miller is coming over in a little while so that we can finish up a project for our science lab.”