Page 21 of The Pact

I reach my hand out, hooking my finger through his belt loop, pulling him closer.

Cole’s hand finds the frame. His other cups my cheek. Heat courses through me as fast as the vulgar thoughts race through my mind. He leans down, pressing his mouth to mine.

I move my lips against his insistently, snaking my arms around his back, bringing his chest to mine. I’m playing with fire, knowing my heart wants to take things slow, yet my body’s making that resolution more and more difficult.

His hand runs up the back of my neck, his fingers gripping my hair gently, eliciting a moan from me. Cole’s lips leave mine and he trails kisses over my jaw before nipping at my ear, sending a shiver through my body.

My hand finds the doorknob. Twisting it, I step inside, waiting for him to follow.

“Thea… you don’t know how much I want to, but…” He trails off. “You haven’t dated in a while and I don’t want to rush you. We have plenty of time.” My ego takes a bit of a bruising at his words, although I’m thankful that one of us has some self control. I’m sure if he came in, I’d be able to stop before it went too far, however he’s not taking any chances.

“I understand.” I force a smile. Cole kisses my forehead, lingering a moment before backing away.

“Goodnight, love. See you tomorrow.”

I watch as he heads upstairs and I give myself a second to regain my composure. I’m about to close my door when I hear my name mentioned from above. Nosiness is one of my weaknesses and I’m not overcoming it tonight.

Walking to the bottom of the stairs, I listen intently. The voices are muffled, so I tiptoe up until I can hear them clearly.

“…gluten or anything with flour. It can make her sick.” It’s Cole’s voice.

“I’ve seen her exposed to it before. She was in bed for days until it was out of her system,” Sutton chimes in.

There’s a momentary pause. “I’ll have Jessie come tomorrow instead of Friday. She can remove everything that has gluten in it and I’ll have her sanitize the kitchen afterwards.” It’s Damian speaking now and his words shock me. “If she’s going to be around. If this is going to be serious, then I don’t want her exposed to anything that will make her sick. Is this heading that way, Cole?”

I hold my breath, straining to hear his answer over the pounding in my ears. “I think so,” he says and my heart leaps. It’s too soon. The logical part of me tries to reason with the surge of excitement.

“Cole…,” Sutton’s voice is tense, although I don’t know why. It sounds like a warning. “You know what that means.” His words feel loaded and full of things I’ll never understand.

“I do.” Feet shuffle above, making me hurry back to my room. Quickly, but quietly, I close the door and lean my back against it. My thoughts race, trying to sort out my feelings.

My head is a mess. What I do know is whatever this is with Cole feels right. I know I can trust Sutton. And perhaps I’m wrong about Damian. He’s cold and hard, yet maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

Sleep came quickly and I wake up well rested. Light streams in from the window on the other side of the room. I’m eager to see these views that were hidden from me last night.

I hold down the power button on my phone. Pulling myself from the softness of the comforter, I walk to the window. Peering through it, I see green—everywhere. It looks like their home has been plopped in the middle of a forest, with no one around for miles. I can make out the river, just barely. From the wall of windows in the living room, I know I’ll be able to see it all.

Peering in both directions, I see the balcony wraps around the length of the house, although this room doesn’t have a door that leads out.

The sound of notifications ding on my phone, one after the other, drawing my attention away from the outside world. Walking to the nightstand, I pick it up. It’s almost dead. I check the time first. It’s ten after eight. Then the notifications. A handful of emails, social media, and two unread texts.

Cassie: Making sure you’re still alive!

I laugh a little. Good God, woman. I see the time of the message—six fifteen. Does she ever sleep?

Me: Alive and well. See you soon.

The second text is one I’ve been expecting and dreading. I’ve let her calls go to voicemail for three weeks. I blame my prying nature on her. My mother can’t let anything be and I know that I’ve kept my parents away longer than I thought I could.

Mother: Haven’t talked in a while. We want to come up in a couple of weeks. Pick a day or we’ll pop in when it’s convenient for us. -Mom

Checking my calendar, I find a weekend that will work, although I’m sure I’ll get shit for it being a couple of weeks after Father’s Day. Not from him necessarily, definitely from her. She doesn’t have to say anything outright anymore. I can pick up on her minor facial expressions and backhanded compliments.

Something as simple as a purse of her lips or what others might see as an innocent observation, I know as criticism. She's rarely blunt. She won’t tell me I’m not living up to her expectations or that I’m wasting my time with a career in photography. Comments like, “It must be nice to uplift your life at the drop of a hat, not a care in the world about finding a job.” Subtle jabs. It’s truly an art form that Kendra Griffin excels in.

Me: I’m free on Sunday the 26th, can you guys come then?

Mother: Yes. -Mom

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