Page 39 of Stay
An apology sits on the tip of my tongue as I swing toward Cole, but he beats me to the punch.
“I’m sorry about Alex. Believe it or not, he’s actually a decent guy.”
“Clearly,” I agree with a laugh. The jury is out on that one. That’s now two crappy interactions I’ve had with the guy.
His lips tremble around the corners. “I’m serious, he really is. He can just be a little dense sometimes. He’ll come around.” There’s a beat of silence before he tacks on, “Eventually.”
“I’m sure he will.” I won’t, however, hold my breath.
For the next couple of hours, we listen to the band. They’re a local group who play at a lot of bars around town. They also perform exclusively at the hockey parties, since the lead singer knows one of Cole’s teammates. Before I realize it, I’m dancing with Cole, Austin, and Brooklyn. After a while, Alex joins in. In a shocking twist, he turns out to be smooth on his feet.
A few drinks later, he sidles up to me like a puppy dog with its tail tucked between his legs and apologizes for grabbing me a couple of weeks ago. Even though I’m pleasantly surprised by the olive branch, I can’t help but wonder if Cole put him up to it.
Once we’ve exhausted ourselves from dancing, we stand near the front of the makeshift stage, listening as the band finishes up their last set. By now, the crowd has thinned, and the atmosphere is mellower. I stifle a yawn. As awesome as tonight has been, it feels like it’s time to head home.
My gaze coasts over the crowd, searching for Brooklyn or Austin, but I don’t see them.
Cole leans down and whispers, “I think they disappeared upstairs about twenty minutes ago. Do you want me to see if she’s staying over?”
I shake my head, already knowing that I’ll be walking back without her. “No.”
She’s been crashing here with Austin quite a bit. I assume it’s a pattern that will only increase in frequency. Brooklyn is past her usual expiration date when it comes to settling down with one guy. I think she must really like him.
Cole is quiet for a few moments. “I can drive you home or, if youwant—” uncertainty flicks across his expression “—you can crash here tonight.”
I suck in a breath.
Before I can shake my head, he forces out the rest in a rush of words. “We’d just sleep, I swear. Or you can stay in my room, and I’ll bunk somewhere else. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
He steps toward me, drawing me into the warm circle of his arms until I’m able to feel the heat of his body. “I know you need to take this slow, and I don’t want to push you into something that makes you uncomfortable. So, if it does, I’ll grab my keys and take you home.”
Surprised by his thoughtful offer, I chew my lower lip.
Do I want to spend the night?
With Cole.
My mouth turns bone-dry as that thought rolls around in my head. Sleeping is the only thing we’d be doing. There’s no way I’m ready for anything more. Even though Cole kind of makes me want more.
“And you would be okay with that?” I ask cautiously. The last thing I want is to put myself in another bad situation.
“Absolutely.”
His expression is so sincere that I can’t help but believe him. Searching his whiskey-colored eyes, I realize how much I want to spend the night with him. I want to experience that closeness with him.
“Okay.”
Before I can rethink my decision, Cole wraps his hand around mine and tows me through the small pockets of people who are still standing around and drinking, even though it’s after two in the morning. Nerves scamper across my flesh with each step that brings us closer to his bedroom. Cole leads me up the wooden staircase and then down a long hallway until we stop at a locked door. He pulls a key out of his pocket before opening the door and ushering me inside.
The muscles in my belly contract as I grind to a halt in the middle of his room and take everything in. A queen-sized bed with a navycomforter is pushed back against the far wall. There’s a desk situated near the door with neat stack of books piled on top of it. The backpack I always see him carrying around campus lies on the floor next to it.
My gaze slides to Cole who is rifling through a large, dark wood dresser that matches the desk. An overstuffed chair has been crammed into the corner.
Not that I’m surprised, but his room is neat and clean. Sure, there’s a pile of clothing stacked on the dresser along with some hockey gear lying around, but that’s about it.
He pulls out a light gray T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts before handing them to me. More tension gathers inside me. I’ve never spent the night in a guy’s room before.
I shift, pointing toward the hallway. “I’m, ah, going to use the bathroom.”
