Page 3 of This Means War

“Okay fine.” I heave an overdramatic sigh, as if I’m the one doing him the favor. “I’ll go to the hotel with you.”

Cole raises an eyebrow, like he’s not buying my nonchalance, but then just nods.

“Okay, then. Let’s go.”

He heads off, and I follow closely behind him. Now that I’m paying for a hotel room on top of all the other expenses of this trip, I may have to forego actually ordering dinner at the fancy five-star restaurant Josh’s fiancée Delia chose for her bachelorette party; but if this night goes as planned, I will be too high on life to even care. Cole thinks he’s such hot stuff with his soft hair and jeans so worn-in they leave little to the imagination in terms of his sculpted, uh, anyway…Where was I? Right. He may think he can just brush me off the way he did when we were teenagers, but I’ve learned a little bit about men in the last decade. Even dated a few. So, yeah. I know what men want. Believe me, what they want is the reason the last two guys I’ve dated broke up with me. They found out I wouldn’t give it to them. The laughter that came following my abstinence skit with Liam may have stuck with me, but so did the point of the whole lesson. No sex till marriage. But Cole doesn’t know that, does he? So won’t it be fun to make him think he has a chance, then at the last-minute look him in the eye, give a soft chuckle and say, “Yeah...no.”

Chapter 3

Lydia

I WAKE UP the next morning with a pounding headache and the fleeting feeling that I’ve done something I shouldn’t have done. My eyes land on the mini-fridge across the room and bits and pieces of the night before start falling into place. I definitely drank some alcohol from that fridge. I grimace, imagining the bill for this and lamenting the poor choice I made of drinking more than one alcoholic beverage, especially after I’d eaten next to nothing due to the fact that my supply of Pastry Treats had run out, and airport food is overpriced. I’d really been planning on going to town on some inflight pretzels.

Other hazy details are clicking into place now.

How Cole offered to get us rooms at the airport Holiday Inn. How we arrived to find out that, like something out of a romance novel, they only had one room left. My impulsive decision to move forward with my plan anyway, figuring that after I shut him down, he’d probably storm off to thelobby… or at least go sleep in the bathtub. Coming up to the room. Cole suggesting we have a drink. Ha! His idea, so I’ll definitely stick him with that bill then.

My triumph is short-lived as I remember what happened next. My confidence inflated by alcohol, I’d made my move. I’m not proud of this next part. Declaring that I had to rinse the mustard stain off before it set, I promptly ripped my shirt off. I had a tank top underneath, but still…The memory makes me cringe. It must’ve worked though, because I remember Cole saying we should get to bed shortly after. Though he may have meant that literally, since a few minutes later we climbed into the room’s only bed, and he shut the light off, rolling over so his back was to me.

I squeeze my eyes shut as what happened next plays out in my head. Out of sheer desperation I did a very, very stupid thing. Announcing that I couldn’t sleep in my too tight skirt, I slid the offending item off. Cole rolled back over with a groan and said, “Lyddie, what’re you doing to me?” The effect those words had on my body scared me. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, like fire swooping through me and lighting up every one of my nerve endings. So, I called it. I forced a laugh to hide my hammering heart, then, with a tremulous glance up and down his body (yet another mistake), uttered the magic words, “Yeah...no.” It was my great moment of triumph. At least until Cole laughed.

“Yeah, no?” he said. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t even remember! Anger replaceddesire, and I punched him in the shoulder, at which point I will admit desire flashed back up just for an instant because, hellllooo deltoid.

“You jerk! I was making a point, and you ruined it.”

“Making a point?” Understanding suddenly cleared away the confusion on his face. “You mean this is about earlier, at the airport? When I said I wasn’t trying to seduce you, and you said I wouldn’t have a chance even if I did try?” He stared at me incredulously, and I realized I had a choice. I could let him in on the embarrassing fact that he ruined my life back in eighth grade, and I’ve never gotten over it, or I could play it off like, yes, my whole song and dance was about what happened at the airport. I chose the latter. To my detriment.

As soon as I said the words, “That’s right. I guess you lose,” something flashed across his eyes.

The rest of the night is catching up to me fast and nausea clutches at my stomach as I sit straight up. Oh no. There he is, still in bed next to me. He didn’t disappear to sleep in the bathtub. Nope. There he is. Fast asleep. Shirtless. I rip my eyes away and let out a moan of horror.

“Morning,” his voice pulls me back to him, and he smiles cockily at me. “I guess I win,” he says, and I burst into tears.

Chapter 4

Cole

ONE MINUTE I’M waking up, smug and satisfied, the next Lyddie, no Lydia, is crying all over the bedsheets. I did not see that coming, and I’m starting to think I’ve totally screwed up. No, I know I’ve screwed up. I slept with Josh’s little sister! Even if she weren’t on the other side of the bed crying, this would be bad. He can never know.

“Lydia,” I say tentatively. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Her tears stop instantly and she hops out of bed, rage all over her face. Then she realizes she’s only wearing her bra and underwear. Her cheeks pinken with embarrassment, and she yanks the sheet off the bed and wraps it around herself before focusing back on me. I quickly move my eyes up to her face, trying to act like I wasn’t just staring at her in her underwear. Another thing Josh must never know.

“You can’t be serious? What kind of asinine question is that?” She throws her hands up in the air, and the sheet slips. I purse my lips, determined notto laugh. She’s just so cute, all flustered and mad like this. Wow, I am a bad man. An anti-hero.

“I didn’t think it was an asinine question,” I tell her patiently. Then, because her chest is still heaving with indignation, and I can see tears welling in her eyes once more, I add, “I’m not going to tell Josh if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Somehow her eyes get even wider, and she puts her hand to her forehead as her mouth opens and closes silently in a fish’s gape.

“Lydia?” I’m honestly getting a little worried now. This is quite the reaction.

“I-I,” she begins, then sinks down onto the bed, all of the fight leaving her body. “I’m going to hell,” she whispers. With alarming force, the true cause of her angst hits me.

“No, no, no.” Now I’m the one hopping out of the bed. My nervous energy making me pace the length of this stupid hotel room. Flashes of the countless hours I spent at the Hamlin’s house over the years play across my mind. Bible verses hanging on the wall, prayers uttered before meals, Sunday mornings spent at church. She’s a Christian. Okay, I tell myself, that’s fine. So am I. In name, anyway. I’m a bit hazy on some of the doctrine itself, and I long ago decided the sex ban was a little archaic, but when asked about my faith I happily proclaim my status as a Protestant. But Lydia? I’m starting to think her faith might be more than a label. “You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, right?” I ask her, more than a hint of pleading in myvoice. “Please tell me you’re not a v–” I break off, not even able to say it.

“A virgin?” Her voice squeaks. “Not anymore.” A fresh wave of tears overtakes her, and my legs give out. This is bad. I’m an idiot. How was I supposed to know though? She gave me no indication. In fact, she was the first one to try and get things started. And sure, then she tried to shut me down, like she’d proved that I had no chance with her, and that was that. I just didn’t let things go. What can I say? I’m a Jacobson, we don’t shy away from a challenge, and she challenged me. Did I have any other chance than to show her I had what it takes to– Oh geez, it all sounds so stupid in the early morning light. I slept with her to prove a point? I’m more than an idiot. I’m a complete jerk. A jerk who has no idea what to do or say next.

“Listen,” I finally say, “I’m sure you’re not going to hell.”

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