Page 27 of Riding the High

And I’m not ready to throw that away.

By the time I’ve drained my glass, I can feel it. The tears that creep in sometimes when I think I’ll end up alone forever in my tiny apartment, long after Cole has found his soulmate.

I recall my mother’s words from the other night. When she asked if I was still spending time with Cole Ashby. She’s always liked Cole, but after realizing nothing would ever happen with him, she’s encouraged me to put distance between us.

“The right one will come. Stop giving your best years to the playboy ‘friend’ that doesn’t ever want to settle down.”

After spending the weekend around Cole like this, without the distraction of TV or Mabel, I know she’s right. I have been pining for him. For years. And it’s self-sabotage at its finest. Howmany other opportunities am I ignoring on the off-chance Cole texts me and asks me to come over?

It has to stop. Right here, right now. I pull the paper menu off the bar beside me and flip it over, then snatch a pen from my purse.

I, Ginger Lily Danforth, herby commit to stop thinking about Cole Weston Ashby.

I will stop coming when he calls.I will only come when he calls if it’s important. I will stop wanting him. I will ignore the way he brushes his hair off his forehead, and how his incredible eyes sometimes turn me into a melty puddle of scientific matter.

Read this everyday so you don’t end up alone for the rest of eternity.

P.S. No matter how old you get, your ass still looks hot.

Ginger

“Writing your memoirs?” I jump when I hear Cole’s voice, and instantly smack a hand onto the paper, spinning around on my stool.

Well, fuck, he looks devastatingly gorgeous. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats, a black Nike workout t-shirt and his Yankees hat. And I’ve just vowed to stay away from him.

“The life and times of Ginger Danforth, challenging fools and taunting strangers by way of a blue sundress.” Cole says it like it’s up on the silver screen, framing his words with his hands.

He drops his workout bag with a thud to the floor and sits down on the stool beside me, folding his arms across his chest and stretching out his long legs. They’re almost touching mine.

“Am I anywhere close?”

“Hardly,” I sniff.

He closes the short distance between us and swipes awaythe rogue tear that’s escaped onto my cheek. I close my eyes when the callused pad of his thumb caresses my skin. Cole looks at me with a worried expression, then spins around to get the bartender’s attention. As he glances away, I shove my written pact into my purse.

He turns back with a questioning stare.

I sigh. “I’m just contemplating how everyone I know is happy and in love, and I still live in a studio apartment with absolutely zero prospects in sight.”

“Knock it off,” Cole says, his jaw tense. “If you’re feeling like this, how should I feel?”

“Cole, you’ve got a beautiful daughter,” I say in an almost whisper, my words beginning to blend together. He smiles and the warm buzz of the martinis makes it look that much sweeter.

“You’re definitely right there. But, as you so eloquently put it every chance you get, I also can’t seem to stop sleeping around.”

I pat him on the shoulder. “I have hope for you yet, Law Daddy.”

“At least you’re smiling now. Can’t have you crying over …?” He tilts his head in question.

“Oh, just having a self-reflection moment. Thinking about the pressure my parents put on me.”

“Still trying to control your every move?” he asks.

“That and telling me I should be trying to meet a nice man this summer, since I’m not teaching summer classes and I have the whole thing free.‘Your mother and I aren’t getting any younger you know,’” I say in mock-impersonation of my dad.

“Your parents should be proud of what you’ve already accomplished. Which is a lot. What you do is important. I see kids in their teens every day. A good teacher guiding them through those years makes all the difference. Plus, you’re for sure the hot teacher, and every kid needs one. Shapes their formative years.” He smirks.

“You always know just what to say,” I fire back sarcastically. “Here lies Ginger Danforth. Cereal Connoisseur and Hot Teacher.” I snicker, hating the way I wish that he would touch me.

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