Page 48 of Muddy Messy Love

“Awhat?”

“This frown line that appears right here”—I trace the spot on my forehead—“whenever you seem confused or deep in thought. I’ve coined it your WTF line.” His face lights up as he presumably deciphers the acronym, and I shrug. “That’s what it looks like you’re thinking.”

Cole’s smile grows, then his shoulders shake with laughter, triggering my own. The resonant and pure sound tickles my heart and glides over my skin like silk, leaving goosebumps. He looks younger when he laughs—when he lets in the light.

The server returns with our drinks, setting them down in front of us. We thank her, and Cole fills our glasses with water before resting an elbow on the table. He rubs his chin, skating his fingers around the edge of an impish smile. “So what’s with the blue warpaint?”

“Huh?” I ask, emptying a packet of raw sugar into my latte.

Cole flickers his gaze across my face, and I stiffen. “Oh my God. Where?” I rub at my flaming cheeks, forehead, and chin with the heel of my hand, while Cole watches on with a smirk so smug and endearing at once I want to strangleandkiss him. I check my hands for paint. Other than lavender nail polish, there is none, so I unravel my sleeve, but it’s already dry. Goddamn it, why do things like this always happen to me? “Has it gone?”

Rather than answer, Cole quakes with laughter and watches me drown, throwing no lifebuoy. The café grows stuffy, and I growl. The lady’s room it is. “Excuse me.” My chair screeches against the dimpled tiled floor as I push back, but then he finally speaks.

“Wait.” Cole grabs a serviette and dips one gathered end into his water, then leans across the table, beckoning me closer. When I hesitate, he cocks a brow. “I won’t beg.”

I flash him a lopsided grin. “Why? Wouldn’t be the first time today.Please, Avery.Don’t go,” I grovel in my best Cole voice.

Cole shakes his head, but his cheeks pinken. “For Christ’s sake, woman, come here.”

The wordwomanisn’t lost on me. It flutters through my chest like a happy butterfly unaware of its incredibly short lifespan. Tucking my chair back in, I meet him halfway across the table and eye the ceiling. “Please kill me,” I grumble.

Cole chuckles and gently wipes across my right cheekbone, then the left.

“Both sides? Really?”Fuck me.

“There. As beautiful as a Parisian sunset.”

We stay too close together, hovering over the table as the bustle in the café fades away. That’s the second time he’s called me beautiful today, and nothing about it feels shallow. I search his face as he does mine, like we’re unearthing each other’s secrets—discovering each other’s truth. There’s something achingly soothing about Cole whenever the tizzy he triggers in me calms. A solidity—a steadiness—that my internal chaos craves.

My gaze dips to his perfect Cupid’s-bow lips that look smooth, full, and utterly kissable, but then I shift back in my chair and re-scrunch up my sleeves, shutting down all wonder about how they might taste or feel against my own.

Looking conflicted, Cole shifts back too, rubbing the nape of his neck. So much for a clean slate, but to break the awkward, I fold my arms, nudge up my chin, and badly fake annoyance. “You could have told me sooner.”

Cole’s mouth tilts, then he throws me a wink that turns said arms to jelly. “Consider us even. Oh, and one more thing… I accept your apology.” He lifts his coffee towards his lips, arching a brow. “Regarding section four.”

Ten

Slade:

C’mon, Aves. Gimme another chance. I miss you.

Without replying, I tossmy phone into my bag where it dangles from my designated hook, then hang my jacket over the top. It’s the fifth message Slade’s sent since yesterday’s encounter, and the most phone contact he’s ever bestowed.

“So who is he?”

I snap my gaze to Hannah and knit my brows. “Sorry, what?”

Highlighter shimmers at the tops of her cheekbones, and mischief glints in her ocean eyes. “I haven’t seen you in anything but jeans and sneakers since your first day. Now here you are in paisley print and ballet flats.Who is he?”

Warmth creeps up my neck, and I stare at her, speechless, before looking down at my new dress. The hemline could be aninch longer if I’m honest, but at least I’m wearing tights. “No one. And I take offence to your anti-feminist accusation.”

Hannah twists her lips into a smile. “You’re a terrible liar. Do you know that?”

Yes, I do. And so will Cole when he sees me. I’m so full of shit I should be a septic tank.

She leans in conspiratorially. “Is he one of the dads?”

“Hell no,” I say, fumbling through my bag in search of Narnia. But that requires a wardrobe, not a Vinnies vinyl tote.

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