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eighteen

Cole

“Holy shit. It smells amazing in here, Cole,” Rory says, stepping into my apartment looking like she walked straight out of my fucking dreams.

She’s wearing a cream-colored sweater dress that hits above her knees, thigh-high brown suede boots, and a light brown faux fur vest.

She looks so fucking good right now.

I’m trying to ignore Ari’s advice, but she’s gonna make it really goddamn hard when she’s over here looking like that.

I walk over to meet her, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. “I made dinner.”

“Why?” Rory asks, looking like she’s confused.

“I’m not going to have you come over in the evening and not have dinner for you, Starlight. I’d be a shitty host.”

She smiles at me. “Well, what did you make then?”

“Chicken Parmesan.”

“That’s my favorite!” she squeals.

As if I didn’t know that.

I may or may not have gone through the entire interview she did with my sister for her blog earlier this year to find that. Harlow asks everyone what their favorite food is, so that was easy to find.

But I dug deeper, reading through every part of the interview. When I saw Rory mention how much she likes Christmas offhandedly, I also may have gone a bit overboard in buying decorations today.

It looks like Christmas fucking vomited all over my apartment.

I clearly have no strength when it comes to Rory Fisher.

With everything I’ve done, this almost feels like a date.

But it’s not a date.

Certainly not a date.

I can’t have her.

It’s just two friends hanging out and eating dinner.

Nothing more.

“I can’t promise the food is the best,” I admit. “I’m not much of a cook, so the spaghetti came from a box, the sauce came from a jar, and the chicken came from the freezer.”

Rory laughs lightly, a smile still lighting up her beautiful features. “It’s the thought that counts, Sparrow. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

She struts past me, heading straight for the kitchen. I follow behind her, grabbing plates from the cabinet and dishing out two servings of chicken parmesan.

After I set our plates at my dining room table, I turn to her and ask, “What do you want to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“No alcohol tonight?” I chuckle, walking to my fridge.

“God, no. I feel like I just beat the hangover from Saturday night.”

“Hair of the dog always helps, though,” I smile, handing her the bottle of water I grabbed and twisting off the cap of my beer. She may not be drinking, but I am—I think I need a little liquid courage to stave off the nerves. One should be enough to just take the edge off.

“No, thank you,” Rory laughs, taking the seat next to me. “Thank you for dinner, Cole.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not even sure it’s edible.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

Rory places her elbow on the table, propping her head up against her hand. I mirror her position.

“You look great tonight, Starlight.”

Her cheeks flush, and a soft smile tugs at her lips. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“It’s the hat, isn’t it?” I smirk. “I know you like a backward hat.”

She groans. “I need the girls to take my phone away from me when I’m drunk.”

I decide to push further because, apparently, I like playing with fire. “Do you not like it then?” I eye her mischievously, stoking the flames.

Rory throws her head back and sighs. “Yes, I like it. Yes, it looks good. Yes, I remember telling you that, and it’s kind of mortifying.”

“I think we’ve had far more mortifying moments recently. You telling me I look good in this doesn’t even crack the top ten.”

She genuinely laughs now. “We have been really good at that lately, haven’t we?”

I smile back at her. “Come on, let’s eat. We can talk after dinner.”

“Well, it wasn’t terrible,” I say as Rory and I both flop onto my sofa.

“Perfectly edible,” she laughs, slipping off her boots and tossing them to the floor.

“You know what? I’m just going to take that as a compliment.”

I lean against the plush cushions, turning sideways to face her. Rory sits on the other side, back against the arm, with her legs tucked under her.

Her face turns a bit more serious. “What is it you want to talk about tonight?”

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Rory asks, clearly confused.

“I feel like I’ve been crossing the line a bit recently, and I’m sorry for that. We’re friends, and I shouldn’t be behaving inappropriately.”

Rory looks down, fidgeting with her sleeves like she does when she’s nervous or uncomfortable. “I… don’t think you’ve been inappropriate.”

My heart beats loudly in my chest. I wonder if she can hear it. “You don’t?”

“No. I, uh…” she looks up, meeting my eyes, “like it.”

“Oh,” is all I can manage. Here I am, trying to apologize, thinking I’ve crossed a line, only for Rory to tell me that she likes it. She likes that I’ve been blatantly flirting with her.

Great.

Really fucking great when I’m supposed to be using tonight to reel it back… again.

I need to change the subject.

“So, how was Vegas?” I blurt, desperate to change the conversation.

“It was fun. We had a great time. The concert was more fun than I thought it would be.”

My evil mind thinks back to the picture she sent me. She can pull off cowboy boots and flannel really damn well.

I mentally curse myself for throwing on joggers tonight because my cock is already stirring awake, and I can’t hide very well in these.

“Great,” I say, voice straining as I try to keep my blood from rushing south. “That’s great. I’m glad you guys had fun.”

“You ready for the bachelor party?”

“Uh, yeah,” I reply, running a hand through my hair and placing my hat back on my head. “Should be fun.”

I push up the sleeves of my black henley, suddenly aware of how hot it is in here. But maybe that’s just me.

Rory follows my movements before her eyes travel over the words of one of my visible tattoos.

“You know, I’ve seen that tattoo so many times, but I’ve never actually asked you about it. I don’t know what it says.”

“It’s Latin,” I say, tracing over the line of words on the inside of my left forearm— genus est quod cum satus et finem . “It translates to ‘Family is what we start and end with.’”

“You’re such a family guy,” she replies, shooting me a soft smile that I return. “Did you ever finish out your sleeve?”

“I did, yeah.” I point to my right bicep. “Finished it out right here.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure,” I say before realizing something. “I, uh… need to take my shirt off to do that, though.”

“Oh.” Rory says it so softly it’s almost imperceptible. “That’s… fine.”

With her permission, I do something stupid. Something I can easily regret because I know what could happen from here.

I toss my hat onto my coffee table before grabbing my shirt by the hem and pulling it over my head, leaving me in just a pair of gray joggers.

I’ve never been self-conscious, but I can’t help but feel a bit nervous right now. I’m not often shirtless around Rory, and I certainly haven’t been since things really started to shift between us.

She moves closer to me so she can see the final part of the sleeve on my right arm. “I had PIERCE added, so with the 27 on my forearm and skulls and roses over the rest of the arm, it’s finally complete.”

“Well, the name and number make sense for you. But why the skulls and roses?”

“I like them,” I shrug. “It’s nothing deeper than that, honestly.”

“What about the rest?” she asks, gesturing to the upper half of my body. “I see four more.”

“Those are just the ones you can see right now,” I laugh. “I have a couple more that you can’t.”

Rory raises her eyebrow. “What are those ones?”

I shift in my seat, turning around so she can see the geometric pattern trailing down my spinal column. “There’s this one. No reason for it, either. I just liked the design.”

I turn back around to face her again. “Are there any more I can’t see?”

“One more,” I admit. “But it’s on my thigh, and I probably shouldn’t take my pants off.”

Though I do kind of want to.

“Right,” she replies uneasily. “What about the others I can see then?”

I point to the crossed baseball bats over my heart. “This one is pretty self-explanatory.”

“Because baseball is close to your heart.”

“Exactly,” I smile. I lift my left arm now, showing my bicep. “This one is pretty easy, too—the Brooklyn Bridge. I obviously grew up in Brooklyn, and I wanted part of that on me.” I move to my sides now, starting with the Roman numerals trailing up my right side. “This is my birthdate—July twenty-fourth. And this —“ I show her the other set of Roman numerals, these trailing down my left side, ”—is Harlow’s birthdate—August twentieth.”

“That’s so sweet,” Rory says, voice laced with affection. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo for your sister.”

“Got it before I signed in Kansas. Now, what about your tattoos?”

She laughs. “I only have two, and you know about both of them. I have an infinity sign on my right foot and my dad’s baseball number—fourteen—on my left wrist.”

Rory must have moved closer to me because her legs are practically brushing mine now. I gulp, trying not to think too much about our proximity. “I like those. They look good, Ror.”

“They’re simple,” she shrugs. “Not nearly as intricate as yours.” She reaches out toward the baseball bats before pulling back.

“You can touch me, Starlight,” I smile softly, ignoring the voice in my head telling me how dangerous this is. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The moment her fingers brush over my skin, the same electricity I felt the other night courses again. Rory’s breath catches in her throat, telling me she feels it, too.

The pull between us is only getting stronger, and I’m beyond tired of fighting it.

I lean closer to her as she matches my movement, our faces now only inches apart. When our eyes meet, I’m immediately entranced, lost in their beauty. Wide and deep brown. I’m mesmerized.

“Do you want more?” she asks, not taking her eyes off mine.

“More tattoos? Yes. But there are other things I want more than that.”

My lips are loose, and I spill what I’m thinking. I’d blame the alcohol, but the singular beer I drank tonight has nothing to do with my candor right now.

“Like what?” She slowly leans closer, leaving even less distance between us. “What do you want, Cole?”

The warnings from Knox and Lane escape my mind, and all I can focus on is the gorgeous woman in front of me. The one that’s had my mind tangled since I met her nearly four years ago.

“I want something I can’t have,” I whisper, eyes quickly darting to her lips before returning to their prior position.

For the first time, I see the unmistakable look in Rory’s eyes— desire .

She’s not going to run away tonight.

She wants me to do this.

“Is it some thing or some one you can’t have?”

I sever the distance between us, letting my forehead fall against hers. “You know the answer to that, Rory.”

“I think I do.”

The next moments are silent, no words spoken as the air thickens around us. Breathing is difficult, but I’ll deprive myself of oxygen if it means being like this with the woman who consumes every waking thought of mine.

She rests her hand on my thigh, and I’m done for. “Tell me to stop, Rory. I need you to tell me to stop.”

Her eyes bore into me, defiance shining bright as she confidently says, “No.”

With that, the single thread of willpower I have left snaps.

I capture her lips with mine, finally kissing the woman of my goddamn dreams.

Rory matches my fervor, kissing me just as desperately.

We’re kissing like we may never get the chance again.

And when she threads her fingers through my hair and lightly moans into my mouth, I know this night is only just getting started.