Page 71 of The Breaking Pointe
“What if you come with me?” he suggests. “If you want— no pressure,” he says quickly.
“Like…to meet your mom?” My voice wavers as a nervous- ness rushes upon me.
“Think of it as only dinner.Not a serious meeting.She loves people,” he says, buttering the offer up.
It doesn’t have to be serious, I know.But, I also know that nobody is bringing home just anyone to meet their mom or dad.That’s personal.I have no practice to referto. Daniel never granted me access to his family that way. I would be going into this pretending like I’ve done it a million times, hoping for the best.Deep down, I’m going to be worryingaboutherabsolutelyhatingme,andmaybeeven
embarrassing him at the same time. “I didn’t bring anything else to wear, Cole. I smell like coffee and dishes,” I counter his idea.
“No you don’t.”He laughs at a soft volume.“You’ll be as lovely as the day is new, in her eyes. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You’ve only known me for over a month and some weeks,” I challenge him, smirking. “I could secretly be the most unbearable, repulsive thing on Earth deep down.I could be a walking, talking nightmare.”
He raises one eyebrow.“I seriously doubt it.You’re far from intimidating, you’re tranquil.”He shakes his head. “And it’s actually been two months and a week.”
My brows raise at his precision in our time spent together. “I can be intimidating and crazy, you know. I have layers, just like you, Mr.Mysterious,” I say adamantly and proudly.
“I am not mysterious,” he says, amused.
“You are.You act nonchalant all the time, like nothing fazes you.Like you’re a living matrix.”I roll my eyes, watching him finish his coffee.
“Things faze me. I’m just good at…concealing,” he says with a nervous laugh.
“What are you concealing? Some sort of secret identity? A crazy, peculiar past experience?” I question him, leaning against the counter as I giggle.
He clears his throat. “Uh, something like that.” He breaks eye contact, his lips struggling to keep his smile strong.
With that reaction, there’s no way he isn’t hiding some- thing, and I just triggered all of it.Or he finds deep con- versation distasteful.Or both, and I have no idea how toread the room.I’m sure it’s nothing large and massively
discouraging, but he must find ways to express it that isn’t talking, based on his disturbing painting that I remember seeing—to which I’ve been curious about, ever since.I wonder if that’s what he sees when he feels creative, or if he’s just as disturbed as I am.I wouldn’t label it as a red flag. Everyone has their flaws.
But like my dad says—everyone needs someone who wants to fall in love with all of those flaws individually.Someone to find beauty in them. Whatever you’ve been through makes you into who you are in the present time. I’m dying to know what Colton’s history is, and why he walks around like he’s carrying a suitcase of secrets.I want to open the suitcase myself, to examine every piece of clothing and accessory to get to know him better.
He makes me curious and interested to know more—like no other man has made me.
I’m making it my personal challenge to break down the walls around his well-built fortress now, since he made it his goal to take me out on a successful date.
Nobody has ever wanted for me like that, and I hate to say it, but it worked like a charm.
Now, he’s made it harder to stay away from him than before.He probably knows that.He might’ve played this game over and over again and I’m just another addition to it. It’s not Daniel’s game, though, and that’s even more of a reason to play.
* * *
His mom’s house is everything I’d expect it to be on the outside.
Flowers everywhere, blooming like they’re at their peak, eventhoughsummerisreachingitsend.It’spairedwith
cute furniture on the porch and tiny decorations to match it all. Colton let us in with his spare key he says he keeps just in case, and the very second he opens the door for us, I can smell the scent of cleanliness and incense giving off hints of roses and musk, filling my nose and the entire room.
I tell myself that I will follow his lead and do my best to give his mom the best first impression that I can possibly give, even though I still feel pretty unsure about the entire thing. “Sounds like she’s in the dining room,” he says as he closes the door behind us.“Come with me,” he adds, grabbing my hand as he pulls me deeper into the house where there is the sound of plates colliding with the table as his mom sets it up.
“Ma, I have someone with me, I hope that’s alright,” he calls out as we enter the room.
Her hair is long and dark-chocolate colored, draped down her back but curly like his, and topped with a crochet hat. She stands at no more than five-feet tall, making her even smaller than me, and petite in body shape. She turns around to face us, already having the warmest and most motherly smile painted along her face.
“Someone?She doesn’t seem like just a someone,” she says, ogling over the sight of me.
I try to replicate her warmth, smiling back.
