Page 26 of Thunderstruck
“And third of all, you’re right. It’s none of your business. You clearly don’t like me, so there’s no reason for you to worry about me.” Even if a part of me yearns for his concern. I put up a confident front, but especially after my career-damning relationship with Peter, I have zerofaith in my own abilities. I couldn’t figure out a bus schedule more than one day in a row! I only have a part-time job, I’m not paying my own rent, and the homesickness hit me so hard last night that I almost called Darcy at three in the morning to ask if I could go back to St. Louis to stay with her. Newlywed stage and all.
It’s only when Cole’s expression softens that I realize tears are welling up in my eyes.
Sniffing, I turn to look out my window and will myself to calm down.
“I realize we’re not friends,” Cole says. “But if you need to talk? I’m a good listener.” We’re both quiet for nearly a minute before he adds, “And I don’t know you, Carissa. I don’t have the right to dislike you.”
Huh. That’s actually really…nice. “I’m extremely likable,” I mutter, mostly to fill the silence. Not because I think that highly of myself, though history would agree with my statement. Honestly, my likability causes problems sometimes, like when a high profile client starts wanting to spend time with me away from the PT office because he tells me I “bring sunlight to his life” and he “doesn’t want to give me up.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Cole says, and we fall into silence again.
In general, I’m not a silence kind of person. Darcy and I are both talkers, so our childhood was filled with endless conversation that sometimes drove our parents mad. So I last maybe two minutes before I blurt out a new topic.
“Why don’t you drive?”
Never would I have called Cole relaxed, but he must have been because he suddenly tenses up.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I say quickly. “It’s none ofmybusiness.”
But I do think the driver thinks it’shisbusiness because his head is tilted toward the backseat, like he’s hanging on our every word.
Cole notices this too, his eyes narrowing into slits as he looks forward at our eavesdropper. Without saying anything, Cole unlocks hisphone and opens up a text. He reads for a moment, and then he curses under his breath. “You can drop us off here,” he says, though we’re still several blocks from the stadium.
The driver’s shoulders slump. “But—”
“Pull over.”
He does, and fear grips my heart as I reluctantly slip out of the car, followed closely by Cole. Cole grabs his bag from the trunk, and we stand there in the sun next to a cinder block wall until the Prius is out of sight.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have asked about—”
“I’m not angry about that.” He holds his phone out to me.
I have no idea what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t a tabloid article about a football player in Oregon. What does this have to do with…oh. There’s a picture. Ofme. Well, the back of my head, anyway, but I’d know those unruly curls anywhere. The focus is on Cole, but that’s definitely my hair. Still confused, I read through the article quickly. It kind of feels like I’m suddenly outside of my own body, like this moment isn’t real. I’ve heard of this tabloid. Houston was in it once, several months before he met my sister, but that makes sense because he’s famous and he was dating a movie star. Bonnie.
And Cole isfriendswith famous people, but this article is insinuating he’s just as famous as his friends.
“I’m sorry,” Cole says when I hand his phone back. His lips are pursed as he reads through the article again. “I didn’t think anyone would bother hanging around practices.”
I think I’m going to have to do some Googling as soon as I’m away from this man. Just how famous is he? Famous enough that he doesn’t bat an eye at handing a hundred bucks to a rideshare driver.
“Okay, so…” I don’t even know what I should ask. “What does thismean?”
Cole shrugs and adjusts the strap of his bag. We are definitely both going to be late to today’s practice, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On ifHot Scoopdecides you’re important.”
“I’m not important.” In fact, I cannot stress enough how much Ido not want to be important.“And it’s not like you and I would ever date.”
“Obviously not.”
Okay, well, that was a bit uncalled for. He didn’t even hesitate. And while I’ve accepted the fact that he doesn’t like me, I refuse to let him brush me off so easily. I told him I was likable, and I am determined to prove it. There’s noobviouslyabout it. “I’m a great girlfriend,” I say as casually as I can manage.
Cole’s eyes jump down over my body once more, leaving me feeling like I’m on display. “Girlfriend,” he repeats, like he’s seeing how the word tastes in his mouth. “Not a fiancée?”
I frown. “I don’t think there would be much of a difference.”
