Page 42 of My Best Friend's Bully

Cole’s hands clench into fists at his sides. I’m still eagerly waiting for him to hit me, to just once let the golden boy image collapse and show me how he really feels. I don’t know what would be more gratifying, seeing Cole lose control or getting the chance to pummel him the way he deserves.

I’m disappointed, but not surprised when he swings with his words instead of his fists. “Fine, but as soon as Dad is recovered, I want you gone. I don’t want to see your face again. Ever. Lose Jordan’s number and don’t even think about showing up around her again. She’s way, way too good for a bully like you.”

The words hit hard. I don’t even disagree with him — sheistoo good for me. Too good for anyone. Definitely too good for Cole. But what’s with thebullycrap?

“That’s total bullshit, Cole. I deal with bullies mistreating my people at work every day, and I can’t stand them.” I reply. “Andyouare the one who’s being a bully if you think you can make Jordan’s decisions for her. She’s a grown woman, so drop the overprotective brother act because we both know it doesn’t suit you. Admit you’ve got it bad for her and can’t stand that someone else got there first.”

“Enough!” Jordan’s voice interrupts whatever Cole was about to bite back with. She’s furious, eyes flashing as she stares us both down. “I’m sick of being talked about as if I’m not standing right here. I don’t want to be the center of whateverthisis,“ she gestures between us with her hand, “and I don’t want you two fighting over me. We’re in the middle of the street, for God’s sake.”

Cole looks down at his shoes but I can’t take my eyes off Jordan. Who is this girl? Every time I think I know her, she surprises me.

“You’re right. This isn’t the place for this and it’s your voice that needs to be heard. Have all the space you need, Jordan, I’ll be here when you want me to be.” And I hope she will want me to be. “Enjoy your coffee.”

Before I can walk away, Cole strikes again. “How about you get lost, instead? Bully me all you want, fine, I can take it. Bullying Dad? A man who was fighting for his life just a few days ago? Low, Ty, even for you. So get lost. Get out of Jordan’s life before you ruin it.”

I leave without another word to Cole, striking off in a random direction. Anywhere away from here will do. My blood is boiling hot and the frigid air can do nothing to cool it down. I try not to think about Cole and Jordan, getting cozy in a café booth, sharing a pastry, and talking about the mess I made, but it’s futile. The thought burns in my mind the entire walk back to the car. By the time I make it back there, snow has started to fall and my fingertips are frozen. I speed out of downtown, heading for the only place that can calm me down right now, the gym.

Set after set of bench presses, I work until sweat soaks through my shirt and drips onto the floor below. Everything is coming to a head all at once. The product launch, family tension, Jordan. It was so much simpler when the only thing I had to worry about was work. When Cole and my father were only a distant memory. Now it’s all in my face. Worst of all, just as I’m getting close to Jordan, Cole sticks his controlling attitude in the middle of it and fucks everything up.

I hang the barbell on the hooks behind my head and sit up on the bench, wiping sweat from my face with a towel. If Cole thinks that a few harsh words is all it will take to drive me away from Jordan, he’s in for a big surprise.

Chapter 22

Jordan

IwatchTysonashe shuffles away, his head down, kicking at large chunks of frozen snow plowed slush balls with the violence of a football field goal kicker in the final seconds of the big game. I watch until I can no long see him and continue staring in his direction long after he’s gone.

Cole clears his throat. “Earth to Anders.” His voice is light, teasing, but I’ve known him long enough to discern the brittleness woven into his words. “Ready for Cupitol? You look like a girl in dire need of a carb fix.”

He holds out his arm for me like he always does, and I hook my elbow around his like I always do, and we both pretend things are normal. But as we walk toward the café, we don’t banter the way we always do, and the silence stretches like a chasm between us. I stare at my shoes the entire time, thinking about the pile of schoolwork waiting for me at home. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on it anyway, not with the convoluted rift I’ve created between the three of us.

“Oh, that’s cute,” says Cole.

I lift my gaze from my shoes to discover we’re standing in front of Cupitol. The windows are decorated with glittering snowflakes and fake snow pillows on the windowsills.

“Festive.” I grumble. It’s all I can muster. God, I sound like the Grinch. I work up a smile for Cole as he pulls the door open for me, and we step inside, struck with the warm and familiar aromas of fresh roasted coffee beans and caramelized sugars.

The energy of the chattering crowd combined with the familiar sounds of grinding and frothing behind the coffee bar should raise my spirits. Cupitol has become like a second home to me, and nothing is more soothing. The normal lift of my spirits doesn’t come, though.

“I’ll get the coffee.” Cole lets go of my arm and heads toward the counter.

“I’ll get our seats.” I turn toward the back of the café to scan the seating area and let out a sigh of relief when I find our usual spot open. The last thing I need right now is to deal with Cole’s oh-so-subtle trumpeting that our new seats are nice but they aren’t as nice as the spot wealwayssit in while he glares daggers at the poor strangers.

I sit on the bench, my back facing the windows, so I can watch the people going about their simple and uncomplicated lives. I feel a bit naked without my bookbag, and I’m unsure of what to do with myself while I wait, so I pull out my phone to check for messages. Nothing — Cole is here with me and Tyson is doing whatever Tyson does when he’s upset. Probably working out. Whatever he’s feeling, I know he’ll give me space until I’m ready.

Watching Cole banter with the barista from across the room, I marvel at how completely different the two twins are. Cole is the big brother I never had, and his vibe is all about protecting me, and that need to protect doesn’t have much regard for silly things likespace. Orfreedom. Tyson is much more hands-off. He’ll wait for me to make the next move. Ty is so different it’s no wonder he butts heads with Cole over me.

It’s more than that, though. Tyson would never chat up the barista. He is always polite to staffers, but he avoids casual conversation in a way that borders on cold.

Cole turns from the barista, and as he weaves his way through the crowd toward me the plate full of pastries he’s carrying teeters, threatening to dump onto the floor. In his other hand, the foamy topped mugs of coffee are dangerously close to spilling over with each step. I jump up as he approaches, offering to take the coffees as he lays the plate of pastries onto the table. I set his mug on the table opposite where I’m sitting, but Cole doesn’t take the hint. He picks up his mug and slides in next to me on the bench like nothing has changed, and reaches for a chocolate croissant.

“Pistachio?” He pushes the plate toward me. Beneath the croissant, there are two frosted sugar cookies decorated to look like snowmen.

“Dessert for after dessert?” I try to chuckle, but it comes out more like a sigh, as I pick up the croissant and use it to gesture at the cookies.

Cole nods. “Yes. Today calls for more desserts than normal.”

“You’re not wrong,” I say, biting into my pastry, leaning my head back on the cushioned bench. The sweet, nutty filling touches my tongue and fills me with a primitive comfort powerful enough even to break through my most morose of moods. Sometimes, sugar reallyisthe answer to everything.

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