Page 143 of Composed
Cole exhales slowly, peeling his fingers away one by one. “Well, that was—”
“Fucking shit!” I slam my palms on the steering wheel, eyes stinging.
“Woah, hey.” He reaches for my wrist but I shake him off.
I lace my fingers together and rest them on the wheel’s rubber grip.
This isn’t the first time Cole has tried teaching me to drive. Nor is it the first time I’ve nearly totalled his car. But I can’t afford driving lessons and my sweet, adoring boyfriend wants me to have everything—even if it comes at the expense of his own life.
“I’m fucking useless.” I drop my head onto my arms. “Why are we even bothering?”
“Don’t you call my girl useless.” Cole unclips his belt and twists in his seat.
I feel him watching me, his eyes mapping out every inch of my face.
I bite my lip and will the tears away.
It’s not his fault I’m having a shit day. He’s not the one who spent my birthday morning reminding me what a waste of fucking space I am. That would be my dad.
“What’s going on, baby?” he pleads, his fingers brushing up and down my arm.
“Nothing.” I try to smile.
“I beg to differ, if you’re sitting here crying on what is just about the greatest day of the year.”
I shake my head and sniff. “There’s nothing great about today.”
“Today is the best day ever,” he says, his voice soft and sweet. “Because it’s the day you were born. And you make everything better, Rixie.”
“No, I don’t.”
He makes a pained noise.
My belt loosens when he punches his thumb into the clip.
Hands curl around my waist, and he drags me over the centre console until I'm straddling his lap.
He shoves the seat back. Two tall people cramped into one car seat isn’t exactly ideal. He wraps his arms around my back, one hand curling into my hair, while the other skates my spine.
My shoulders tremble and I bury my face into his chest.
He doesn't say a word.
I fist the sides of his white top, breathing in the vanilla clinging to him.
I’m unravelling at the seams, trying to hold on to everything that matters while it's slipping through my fingertips.
Today is the first day I'm seeing Cole for a month and I'm too busy fucking crying to relish in it. The guys have been busy, either in the studio or stuck in meetings with their label. He’s not even supposed to be here today.
Pretty sure they had a planning meeting about some gig they’re meant to be playing next month. But he blew it off to spend my birthday with me. And instead of just enjoying the extra time I have with him, all I feel is fucking guilt.
“I’m sorry.” I rest my cheek on his heart and let the soft beats soothe me.
“What for? Nearly crashing my car?” he teases, a hand tugging at my hair. “Meh, that’s why I’ve got insurance, baby.”
“Just for all of it. This isn’t exactly the fun day you had planned.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” He cups my jaw, tilts my head back, and rests his forehead on mine. “You wanna spend your birthday crying in my dingy car? Then that’s what we’ll do.”
