Page 59 of Acting Merry
He told me from the start that he’s not a relationship person. Bree warned me he’s a heartbreaker. I have no one to blame but myself if I’ve been deluded enough to think I was an exception.
His blue gaze is fixed on me, like he’s watching every thought flit through my mind through the screen of my eyes.
I swallow and nod, forcing a smile. “Okay. Yeah. I understand.”
Something flashes across his expression, but it’s gone before I can even try to identify what it is.
“Do you wanna say bye to everyone?” I ask.
He considers this for a minute. “I don’t wanna make it a thing. Would you tell them I had to run?”
I nod, hoping I can come up with some excuse that won’t make it obvious to my friends that my world is crashing.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say.
It’s quiet as we make our way to the door. My insides are writhing, but I don’t want Cole to know how much this hurts. That’s not his burden. It’s not his problem.
We started this thing agreeing to a mutual performance. I can manage another two minutes of that. Once he leaves, I can come to this room and deal with all these emotions. I’ll have to get myself together before I head back out there and face my friends.
“Thank you,” I say as we reach the door, and he turns to face me. “For everything.” I smile at him. “You totally nailed your part.” I swallow the acrid taste on my tongue.
He lets out a little chuckle. “Yeah, you too.”
But I wasn’t playing a part.
“Promise you’ll drive safely?”
“I promise,” he says, his eyes still fixed on me.
The mere thought that anything might happen to Cole on his way home is enough to break through my promised final two minutes of performing.
I wrap my arms around him and rest my head in the hollow under his chin—the place I thought I fit perfectly.
I still do.
There’s a couple of seconds of…surprise? Hesitation? But then his arms close around me, and he holds me to him, pressing his lips to the top of my head.
My eyes burn, and I feel his throat bob against my cheek.
What happens now?
Are we friends? Is this goodbye?
“Oh”—I pull back—“what about your sweater?”
“You can keep it.”
I have no idea if he’s saying that to be nice or because he just wants to get the heck out of here.
“I promise not to show up on your porch with it,” I joke, even though my mouth tastes like pennies.
He smiles, then chucks me under the chin. “See you later, Reese’s Pieces.”
He opens the door, and a whoosh of cold air blows in, shocking my system.
And then I’m staring at the door and he’s gone.
fifteen
