Page 173 of The Breaking Pointe
up his keys and leads up straight to the car.
“Cole, I’m not dressed for anything spectacular,” I tell him, letting him drag me still.
“You don’t need to be.This won’t take long, and we aren’t meeting anyone of importance. Trust me, this will be worth it,” he says in a fast pace, opening the car door to put me in. Idon’targue.Thethingis,Idotrusthim.Iwantto speculate,butthat’sjustthetriggerstryingtospeakfor me.I like that we don’t have to argue, or create tension with
our words.He’s too sweet.He can’t help it.
It pulls me in. His love holds me and pulls me in so deep that I can’t get out.I don’t want to.I want to enjoy being attracted to him. It isn’t hard to notice his sex appeal, and his intense yearn to show he wants to please me.Everything he does, he makes it attractive. When other men do it, it’s almost repulsive. I wonder if that’s a universal thing with other women and their boyfriends.
It’s like his demeanor had switched, the moment he sensed me losing faith in his words.The car ride felt as though it only lasted a matter of minutes, and within those minutes, Cole was able to stay silent.While his mouth stayed shut, his fingers violently tapped against the wheel, and he leaned back and forth in the driver’s seat, restless with himself as we waver through traffic.The more we drove, the further we got into the city, going and going until he stops at a building with different color papers covering construction patches— some finished, and some spots being almost finished. Most of the building was built though.
“Here,” he says, parking the car and leaning over me to pop the glove compartment open. He reaches in it and pulls out a large, rolled up sheet of construction paper with outlines on it.He rolls it out over my lap so that I can view the entire page. Before my eyes is a complete map, with an architectural sketch nearly filling up the large paper’s pace.
“Look at it,” he says, pointing to different areas of the page.
“This is…wow.” I nod, examining it. It’s beautiful. Like a huge store or something of that nature. A lot of rooms and even a basement.
“So what is it?”I finally blurt, looking up at him.
He looks down at me then back at the page, pointing to the corner where there’s some writing. “Look.”
I direct my eyes to it, reading it off in my head.
Noelle’sPersonalDanceStudio
“The community art thing isn’t that much community based, as it is you based. But that’s the part I love. It’s worth coming home dirty.”He chuckles deeply, rolling the window down now. “This is it. This is the place,” he adds, pointing to the nearly finished studio we were parked beside.
I want to say words, but words can’t even be formed.I have more questions than I can process and ask. I wouldn’t know where to begin.This is a dream, and I need to be pinched as soon as possible. Nobody could, or ever would do such a thing.
Wouldthey?
I push the car door open, scurrying to get myself out so I can get a better view.Hearing his keys jingle, he doesthe same, and meets me at the front of the building with a hand to my waist.
“Isn’t it huge?They really got the vision,” he says with satisfaction.
“Are you saying that this is being built…for me?” I manage to muster my first question.
“Yeah—well it’s pretty much done.” He nods. “Thought you might like to, you know…begin again, per se. You caught me red-handed before I could take you to the final product. I guess this is more of a sneak peek,” he responds, running a hand through my hair slightly, kissing it as he turns to me, turning my body with his so we meet.
“You’ve been so good to me, Noelle. I waited entirely too long to tell you how I really felt.This feels like my way of saying that I’m sorry about that. You mean the world to me.” He kisses my head again, taking a breath. “Thoughts? Are you angry with me?”
I push myself up and into him, my arms swinging around his neck as I pull him into my body, firmly holding on for dear life, I feel as he grabs hold of me and squeezes my body into his, lifting me off of the seat into the air.
“No thoughts.Just happy.”I breathe out laughter that quickly turns to tears.“I don’t know how you’re able to be this perfect.”
“Woah—perfect? Me? C’mon now, that’s your job.” He chuckles, hugging me just as tight, lifting me up from the concrete.
But he is perfect. He’s perfect for me. He does it right—he gets it. This love thing? He’s been a master this entire time, and if I didn’t go to that fight, if I didn’t think of olives—if I didn’t go to that club, and take a chance, then I would never know. I’d never be me again, and I would never learn how to be happy.
I get to know now.I do know now.
IunderstandBonnie,andI’msohappyIdo.
44
my number one
COLTON
