used to. The only thing that made it tolerable was knowing he didn’t have real feelings for any of them.
Then Violet the Saint happened. The girl looks like a living, breathing doll with her golden hair and big blue eyes, possessing the kind of sweet innocence that’s rarely found these days. If her good looks and wholesome personality weren’t enough to win Cole over, the fact that she’s from a struggling middle-class family was sure to do the trick.
For weeks I watched as the two of them grew closer, my heart sinking every time he looked at her—his entire face lighting up with love and admiration. There had only been one other girl he looked at that way.
Me.
It turned out Cole’s friend Thatcher was the one involved with Violet, but it didn’t take him long to screw things up. Now, he’s gone for the summer, leaving Cole to console a devastated Violet. She’s been all over Cole’s Instagram. The petite blonde has apparently managed to fracture the unbreakable bond of the Westbrook Three. Which means Cole must really care about her.
The next message that comes through is another picture of him. He has a white T-shirt on now, his hair a tousled mess of perfection. The playful pout puckering his lips is contradicted by the gleam of mischief in his stare, but it still causes a flutter in my chest.
Forgive me?
Sure. Whatever. It’s not
like you owe me anything.
Aww…you’re mad. Would it help
if I told you I missed you?
I’m not mad. It’s probably better if we
don’t talk anymore. There’s no point.
What do you mean?
I’m never going to tell you my name.
Why not?
Because I’m me and you’re you.
Trust me, this is a bad idea.
Sounds like fun.
More like dangerous.
Same thing.
I bite back a smile and drop my phone on the bed. This isn’t real, never was. It would be too easy to get lost in this pretty lie I created for myself. But this version of Cole doesn’t exist anymore. Not for me. Not since I was forced to break his heart.
Cole will never forgive me. He’ll never be mine again.
The incessant ringing of the doorbell echoes through the house as I rush down the stairs. A text message was waiting for me from Mia when I got out of the shower, informing me that she was coming over. There was no point in trying to explain it wasn’t a good time. I ignored each of her attempts to reach me yesterday during my meltdown, so I knew nothing would stop her from coming over to check on me today.
My parents are spending the day at some winery with their friends, but I have no clue if Cole is still here or what his plans are today. Mia doesn’t know he’s staying here yet. She’ll probably flip when she finds out.
“What in the world took you so long?” Mia questions as I swing the door open.
“I was getting dressed.”
She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and steps inside, her brow furrowed as she studies me. “What’s with the cute little getup?”
I shrug and close the door, looking down at my outfit. My black short overalls and tight white crop top are a little much for hanging around the house with my girlfriend. But it’s not like I’m dressed for a night out or something.
Her head tilts as I meet her stare again. “Wait. You’re wearing makeup too. What’s going on?”
I definitely went overboard with my face—winged liner, red lips, the whole deal. When Mia said she was coming over, I panicked. It doesn’t normally bother me when her effortless beauty makes me feel invisible. But with Cole…
I shake my head in denial, but my reddening face gives me away.
She gasps, her eyes widening as they roam over to the living room and up the stairs. “Oh my god. Do you have a guy here? Is that why it took you so long to get to the door? And why you ignored me yesterday?”
“No,” I croak.
Her gaze snaps back to me. “Holy shit. You do.”
My stomach drops as she twirls on her heel and runs for the stairs. “Where are you going?”
She takes the first few steps and pauses, a smirk on her face as she looks over her shoulder. “I’m going to go see who you’ve got hiding up there. Unless you want to tell me.”
I sigh, my eyes flickering to the top of the stairs before settling on her again. “I don’t have a guy here.”
She snorts, watching me