* * *
Once I got my emotions under control, I finished packing and decided to get acquainted with my new flatmate. I didn’t want Rae to think I was antisocial, although perhaps she would prefer it if I was. I’d find out soon enough.
Instead of Rae, I found Cole in the sitting room. I almost tripped over my feet at the sight of him on the armchair near the balcony, his right ankle hooked over his left knee. My eyes drank in his long-limbed body before I could stop myself. When they eventually traveled upward, Cole was staring at me with this knowing, cocky little grin on his lips.
His very, very kissable lips.
Man, he was annoying.
“Thought you might want to join a few of us for a drink to celebrate the job and the flat.”
Processing how comfortable and at ease Cole seemed in Rae’s flat, I felt my eyes narrowing as they scanned the room. They stopped on a large black digital photo frame. Every few seconds the picture would change and in among pictures of Rae with people I had never met were lots of pictures of Rae, Cole, Simon, and some Italian-looking bloke I could only assume was Tony.
Bugger.
Rae and Cole weren’t just colleagues; they were friends. All of them were good friends. This meant I not only had to dodge Cole at work but I had to bloody well dodge him in my own home.
He was beyond annoying.
“I’m kind of tired,” I said, looking anywhere but at him.
“Rubbish!”
This came from Rae. I turned around as she strode into the sitting room now dressed in jeans, a Celine Dion T-shirt that seemed incongruous to her personality, and a black leather jacket. “Get your shoes on,” she said. “You’re bloody well coming with us.”
“I don’t think—”
“Bollocks to whatever you’re going to say.”
Assessing her authoritative tone and demeanor, I didn’t take long to surmise that I was not getting out of this. Instead of glaring at Rae, I shot a glower at Cole. “You knew exactly what I was getting into and didn’t do a thing to stop me.” I stomped out of the room, ignoring the delicious sound of Cole’s laughter.
* * *
I was introduced to identical twins Grant and Patrick and Grant’s girlfriend, Karen. They were Cole’s friends from art school and Rae had adopted them too. Grant and Karen owned a small gallery and a professional photography business. Patrick was working toward qualifying as an architect. They were all very friendly and welcoming, but the uneasiness I felt as we joined them in Rae’s local pub, the Walk, wouldn’t dissipate. I felt I had no one to blame but Cole.
As soon as we sat down, Cole somehow finagled it so he was sitting next to me in the booth that curved around the table. Almost immediately he pressed his thigh against mine. With Rae squashed in on my other side, there was nowhere to go and no way to remove myself from physical contact with Cole.
Heat burned into my jeans where we touched and I tried—oh, how I tried—to ignore his presence and listen to his friends talk about work and the odd things people said in galleries.
“You have the best hair I’ve ever seen,” Karen suddenly said to me.
Everyone laughed at the random comment.
“She does, though,” Karen insisted. “I’d love to photograph you.”
“Me?” I was bemused by the notion.
“Yes, you.” Karen smiled. “You’d make a great subject.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I fucking knew it.” Rae groaned.
I looked at her in question and she frowned in response.
“You’re one of those.”
“One of what?”