She folded her hands in her lap and shook her head, staring ahead now. “This town is a hotbed of gossip. When Finn moved back home, we hooked up again, and, well, it didn’t work out, and then he hooked up with Haley. She was my best friend when I was a kid, before I met Finn. Anyway, they met a few months ago and now they’re engaged and adorable and so in love and… I don’t want him or anything, because, I just, I’m not into him anymore, but… dinner with Haley was fun and we talked about their wedding and I’m the maid of honor and…”
Trace didn’t seem to need him here for this entire conversation, but Cole pushed to sit up straighter, translating her rambling as she continued to spew out so much that he’d missed.
“After dinner we walked to Halseth’s and, remember Finn’s the bartender now? Anyway, we sat at the bar and we all three visited and I didn’t feel like a third wheel like I thought I would, I mean they’re the two best friends I’ve ever had, and…”
Her blinks grew longer, and Cole hoped to hell she didn’t pass out on the couch, as he wasn’t in any shape to carry her to bed.
“And I dress like my mother and never have wow-sex and I never make a first move and…” Trace took a long inhale and looked over at him. “I never have to pretend around you either. I like you. We should have sex.”
Long pause. Cole waited for her to laugh or say she was kidding. Nothing. “What, like now?”
“No, I’m trashed,” she said, snorting another laugh. “I mean, I trust you to give me your honest opinion. Do I suck at blowjobs?” She tipped her head back and released a riotous laugh. “Ha. That would be the point.”
“Trace?”
“You think it’s a great idea, don’t you? I mean, I saw your penis the other day and it’s very pretty.”
“Thank you,” he said, swallowing that damn frog even harder and couldn’t think of anything else in the entire realm of vocabulary to utter.
She scanned him up and down. “I was going to say maybe we could try the door thing, but I bet you’re not supposed to do any heavy lifting.”
“Trace,” he tried again, shaking off so many images of… well, fuck, of what-ifs, like what if he was one of those assholes who was okay with messing around with someone he cared about, drunk or not? “I’m really glad you trust me enough to… experiment, but…” He groaned and rubbed his palm against his forehead. Now would be the worst moment in the entire history of confessions of feelings, to tell her.
But what the hell. She probably wouldn’t remember, anyway.
But what if she did?
Or if she drunkenly, heartbrokenly decided they should fool around, tomorrow if not today?
He looked up and opened his mouth to confess. To everything.
Trace’s eyes fluttered closed, and she smiled as she drifted back to lay on the sofa. Hell. Cole pushed to stand and maneuvered enough to slide her legs on the couch, slip off her boots, and laid a blanket over her.
5
Hit the nail on the head
Overthenextfewweeks, the dizziness gradually faded as Cole’s “acute blood loss anemia” resolved. He still hurt everywhere, but the bruises had faded, the headaches and fucking brain fog started to ease. Mostly.
Trace didn’t mention blowjobs again, but that could have been because he avoided her like the plague. Sleeping in late and taking Finn and Asher up on hanging out had helped reduce his time around her.
Not that he could avoid her in his imagination, the idea of playing around flooding his thoughts with wicked new fantasies that he couldn’t help but indulge in. Which only made it harder to be around her. Literally. Like, every time she even looked at him, fuck, especially when she wore that pink sparkly lip gloss, he… well, yeah, she’d planted the seed that didn’t need a drop of water to take root. After years of her residing in his imagination as his default fantasy partner, it hadn’t taken much for his waking and sleeping dreams to explode with renewed enthusiasm.
Friday morning, Trace was already at work, and Cole ducked his head under the shower. Trace’s soap all over his body. Steamy lavender filled his senses, soothing in scent and soft on his skin. Leaned back against the shower wall, he eased the pressure, regret filling him the second he finished.
Definitely time to get his own place. Some sort of life.
As he dried off, irrevocably saturated in her lavender scent, he held his breath. He poured through the head-throbbing calculations of how long he could comfortably live before he had to look for work.
Jeremy bounced up the stairs. Before coming into view, he called out, “Cole? You up yet?”
“Yeah,” he said as he came out of the bathroom, running a hand through drenched hair. After his shower, he’d stolen one of Trace’s hairbands, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t manage a ponytail. It wasn’t the skill, he knew how, but his physical therapist had told him to not push the arm beyond his comfort, and to listen to his body. Tying his hair back with one hand wasn’t happening, and lifting his arm above ninety degrees in any direction for any reason for any amount of time wasn’t happening yet, so he stuck to the loose scruff. “Morning,” he said as he held the towel secure at his waist and opened the door.
Fuck, what would Jeremy say, if he knew even a fraction of the extent of Cole’s imaginings?
“No appointments today, not to worry,” Jeremy said brightly.
Cole laughed and rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s a relief.”
