Page 17 of Stay

Chapter 6

Haley

I stare at Cole’s text message, my heart pounding in my chest. Holy crap. Is he serious?

Haley: Absolutely!

Excitement bubbles out of me. And before I read into why he’s asking, I get busy with the basics.

Haley: What’s the budget? Do you have a theme in mind?

Haley: Is this in-house or do you want to rent a space? Hotel? Museum? Art gallery?

Haley: Date?

Haley: How many people?

Haley: Cocktails and light food or full menu?

I’ve got a great concept in mind already if he wants a Winter Wonderland scheme. Or does he want something more festive, like candy canes and shit? Ohhhh, maybe they want a more rustic vibe with evergreens and holly? Hey, they might like jewel tones and funky décor.

Typing another question, I pause and look at what I’ve sent so far. Shoot, I need to back off a bit. He probably thinks I’ve lost my mind. He hasn’t answered a single one of my texts yet and is likely already scratching his eyeballs out with frustration that I’m blowing his phone up.

Cole never was one for snaps and texts. He hates being on his cell.

My phone vibrates.

Cole: I’ll get back to you.

He doesn’t say anything else. The highs I felt twenty seconds ago crash to the ground. It’s fine. All good. He probably wasn’t expecting so much from me so soon.

That’s a current theme for the two of us, I guess.

Sitting back on my couch, I put my feet up and blow out an exasperated breath. “Way to bombard him, Hales. You suck.”

Running my finger over my bottom lip, my mind flashes back to that dynamite kiss we had earlier. Talk about mind-blowing. He’s definitely changed.

Cole’s a lot more aggressive than he used to be.

Does that go for all sex acts or just what he does with his mouth? My pussy clenches when I imagine him going to town down there.

Pulling up his Insta, I lock onto a photo of him playing basketball. He’s dunking—arms up with the ball ready to slam into the bucket. He’s so high off the ground, he looks like he’s flying. It’s my favorite photo of all the ones he’s posted this year. I know I belong in the stalker category, but I don’t care.

I’ve missed him every day and these photos make me happy. Every time he posts a new reel or photo dump, my heart cheers. Then it sobs because I’ve lost out on so much with this man.

It’s my fault. No sense in crying over it anymore.

Scrolling through several posts, I stop on a pic of him fishing on a boat. Wearing sunglasses, a backwards baseball hat, and no shirt, his skin gleams with a sheen of sweat and I can count all six of his abs.

He’s holding a beer in one hand and flipping the camera off with the other. He’s got a huge classic Cole smile on his face that makes my heart melt. In the next photo, he’s leaning against the side of the boat, looking to his right. The one after that, he’s holding a huge fish. The one after that is of him swimming in the ocean—the water so blue, it’s got to be in the Caribbean.

Returning to the first pic, I run my hand down to the joining of my thighs. I changed out of my pencil skirt and blouse the instant I got home, which means reaching my pussy is a whole lot easier in these sweatpants and hoodie.

Yes, I still have his hoodie. I wear it so often, it’s a miracle the threads haven’t disintegrated.

Shoving a finger in my pussy, I pleasure myself with the memory of how Cole kissed me earlier. It was wild, aggressive, possessive. As if the instant he confirmed I was single, he claimed me.

Dramatic and inaccurate, I know, but the thought makes me so horny I could die. I’m good at pretending. I’ve fantasized about this man ever since we played our first game of flip cup and I’ve never stopped.

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