stuck at the top of a wave, and then settles back to where it should be. When the room is no longer moving, i t takes me longer to focus on Cole, but I do. He has stubble on his cheeks. It makes him look older than he is. There’s a drink in his hand, probably scotch. His dark hair hangs over his eyes, making them seem bluer. Torment lines his face, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Col e watches me, his eyes never drifting from mine.
I hold the drink longer than I intend, but I want to be able to walk home. Right now, with the way the bar seems to be swaying beneath me, that won’ t be possible. I giggle to myself. I love boat rides. That’s what this feels like, a boat ride. The waves roll up and down, gently swaying me , or the room, or both. I don’t really care. My mind snaps back to Cole and the momentary happy thought is blasted to bits.
I roll the rim of the glass between my thumb and forefinger, watching Cole . Neither of us speaks. Words pile in my mouth of things I want to say, but I know I’ll never have the chance. It makes me feel hollow and brittle. In all my life, a single man has never had such an effect on me. I feel broken without Cole , like a piece of me snapped off and will never return.
I wonder if I’m like Jesse, if Cole admires me, but that’s all. The look on Cole’s face says something else, but I don’t know what. I lean forward on the bar, stretching my arms out to help hold me up. It forces my cleavage up , pressing hard against my neckline . I lift the glass and put it to my lips. Cole’s eyes track the movement, and his lips part like he wants to say something. Our eyes lock and for some reason it feels like he’s telling me not to drink it, to put the glass down. We stare at each other for a few moments and then I toss b ack the shot. It do esn’t even burn this time. I place the glass on the bar top and look at it. It’s very pretty, all short and thick. The light shines through the clear glass, making an illuminated star on the bar top. I gaze at it and all the pretty points , and w hen I lift my head , Cole is gone.
Anguish rushes into my chest, crushing me. I can’t do this. I can’t see him and not react. My arms slip down and I rest my head on the bar.
A second later I feel a hand on my back, and Cole’s voice is in my ear, “Come on, Anna. I’ll take you home.” He slaps down some cash and it sounds way too loud.
It tak es me a second to realize that Col e’s trying to get me to stand up. The bartender and the bouncer both look at me like they’re concerned, but neither of them says anything. Cole pushes us through the door and I’m hit with a gust of cool air. It makes me shiver. I wrap my arms around myself and look down. Sparklie yellow sneakers are on my feet. I love them! We stop walking so I can wiggle my toes and watch them glitter.
Cole’s warm hand wraps around my arm, “What is it with you and those shoes?” He pulls me gently, encouraging me to walk. I look up , surprised to see him.
“I saw you in the bar,” I say , smiling at his beautiful face. We stop walking and I speak to his chest, not looking at his eyes . My fingers lift and fuss with his collar. “I never thought I’d see you again, and there you are.” I blink and look up at him like he’s not really here. Narrowing my eyes, I try to focus harder, expecting him to vanish when I do so. When he’s still there, I lift m y finger and press it hard to his chest. “You are he re. ” I want to cry. I want to weep. I want to giggle. My emotions are short circuiting and I have no idea what to do.
Col e takes my hand as my finger presses to his chest again. “I’m here. I admit, I came looking for you and lost my nerve. I didn’t expect you to walk in and get plastered.” He’s looking at me with those sexy eyes and I feel paralyzed.
I know I need to say something. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither could I.” He looks at me with such a humble expression on his face. Cole
Donald Luskin, Andrew Greta