Page 22 of My Return to the Walter Boys (My Life with the Walter Boys #2)
I nodded in agreement, though the last thing I wanted to do was walk away from Cole, even if it meant getting out of our chore.
Taking a deep breath, I gave him a goodbye smile and followed after Alex.
I could feel Cole’s gaze heavy on my back and was unable to resist glancing over my shoulder one last time.
Our eyes met immediately, my heart twisting at the longing expression on his face.
I allowed myself a brief moment to feel that same longing before pushing it down and turning away.
***
All anyone could talk about for the next week was homecoming: who asked whom, what their dress looked like or how they planned to do their hair, where dinner reservations were made, and which after-party they wanted to attend.
Even the Walters were making plans for Saturday night.
Alex and Kim were obviously going together, and Nathan with a group of friends.
Lee, the grumpiest grump in the world, had somehow secured a date.
The only person who wouldn’t be there was Isaac; his grounding had been extended after flipping Katherine off.
I found the constant, single-minded focus exhausting, especially since my friends kept pestering me to come.
They all had someone to go with, and I didn’t want to be a third wheel.
Heather offered to set me up with her cousin, but as thoughtful as her suggestion was, there was only one boy I could picture wearing Lucy’s dress for.
I wanted to go with Cole, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him.
To do so now wouldn’t be fair. Not when I’d pushed him away, again and again and again.
It was a hard pill to swallow, realizing that I started running from him the moment we met.
Of course, that didn’t stop me from remembering how it felt to be held in his arms as he spun me around the kitchen.
These indulgent recollections led to a willfully stupid idea—that I could purge the image of us together from my head if I tried on Lucy’s dress.
After school, I went straight to the art studio. It was strange, knocking on what used to be my bedroom door, but I learned my lesson about entering rooms unannounced the hard way. Twice.
“Yeah?” came a groggy reply.
I froze, not expecting an answer. Cole always worked on Thursdays, so why the heck was he home?
I’d thought I could sneak in, grab the garment bag, and slip out, leaving him none the wiser.
Plan ruined, I momentarily considered retreating without a word, but the springs in the mattress suddenly groaned, and two seconds later, Cole was answering the door as he tugged a shirt over his head.
It was dark inside, but light from the hall flooded the room, highlighting the tangled bedding.
“Hey,” he said through a yawn. The hair at the back of his head was sticking up in different directions, and he combed his fingers through the mess, trying to smooth it down.
My stomach swooped at the sight of him looking so disheveled. In that moment, I wanted to shove Cole back on the bed and press my body against his.
“Sorry,” I said, my cheeks heating. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but can I grab something out of the closet?”
He held out a hand in welcome and moved aside. “Be my guest.”
Not wanting him to notice the longing look on my face, I attempted to keep my gaze downcast as I shuffled inside, but my eyes kept flitting up to him. When the corner of his mouth twitched, I let my breath out in a huff. “What?”
“I appreciate your tactic, that’s all.”
“Tactic?” I echoed. “What are you talking about?”
“No need to play coy, Jackie.” He stepped closer to me and gently tugged on the curl framing my face. I fought off a shiver when he brushed it behind my ear. “You purposely left some of your clothes behind to have a reason to visit me.”
I scowled and slapped his hand away. “I don’t need a reason, Cole. I literally see you every day.”
“Yet here you are, making excuses,” he teased, “Am I really that irresistible?”
“No, you’re obnoxious.”
Fed up with the conversation, I marched over to the closet and flipped on the light. Between my and Cole’s belongings, the moderate-size walk-in was packed to capacity. I had to shuffle around a stack of moving boxes and step over an overflowing laundry basket to reach the back.
Cole trailed in behind me. “What’s in the bag?” he asked when I extracted it from the rack where it was hanging.
“One of Lucy’s dresses.”
His face went blank. “For homecoming.”
“I don’t think I’ll go to the dance, but I figured”—I swallowed the lump in my throat—“my mom made this. I should try it on at least once.” I draped the garment bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be back later to put it away.”
He reached out to stop me. “No. I can wait outside while you change.”
Before I could protest, Cole stepped into the hall and closed the door. It would take just as much time to extract myself from his insistence as it would to get dressed here, so I unzipped the garment bag, shimmied out of my clothes, and pulled the backless a-line on.
Even with the light from the closet, the bedroom was dark, so I turned on the desk lamp before moving over to the mirror. I stared at my feet for a few seconds—trying on Lucy’s clothes always made me feel like a kid playing dress-up—before finally finding enough courage to look at myself.
The air froze in my lungs. Everyone always told me how much Lucy and I looked alike, but I’d never believed them until this exact moment; the girl—no, the young woman—gazing back at me was the spitting image of my sister.
All I could do was stare, tears prickling in my eyes as I momentarily pretended there was no mirror and Lucy was standing here in front of me.
A knock on the door shattered the fantasy. “Jackie? Everything okay?”
My lips parted, but no sound came out. There were so many feelings coursing through me—surprise, joy, wistfulness, anguish—that I turned away from the mirror before they could overwhelm me and opened the door.
Cole was smirking like he planned on saying something teasing at my expense, but when he saw me, the mirth melted away, and his chest hitched. He was quiet for a moment before he swallowed and cleared his throat.
“You should go to the dance,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The sound made my stomach flip.
“I don’t have someone to go with.”
Eyes flashing, he stepped into my personal space and grasped my upper arm, but his grip was gentle. “That’s bullshit , and you know it.”
Goose bumps swept across my skin, emanating from his touch. “Is that… I mean, are you asking me?”
“That depends,” he said carefully. “Are you saying yes?”
We were standing so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
“I—yeah,” I whispered. “I think I am.”
“Then I’ll be your someone, Jackie.”