“What’s the problem? Don’t you like it when I fuck my own girlfriend? Maybe I should fuck yours instead. Oh…that’s right, you broke up with her.”
Cole grabs my hair and knees me in the head.
I laugh even harder. My nose is busted. I swipe my hand through the pouring blood before collapsing onto my back, tasting iron at the back of my mouth. “Feel better yet?”
Walking past me, he plops onto the bed, shoulders slumped. He puts his elbows on his thighs and drags his fingers through his hair.
I frown as I sit up and wipe more blood from beneath my nose. It’s everywhere, coating my arm and soaking the front of my T-shirt.
“Why are you trying to piss me off?” he asks, tugging on the strands.
I glance at him. “What makes you say that?”
“Why the fuck are you doing this?” As he lowers his hands, he levels me with a look that cracks my heart wide open. “Why are you putting on a show?” He motions to where I fucked Mia not five minutes ago, and I look over as though I’ll see what he saw.
“You think me fucking my girlfriend was a show?”
“Wasn’t it?” His voice crackles. “Everything you do is a show. The girlfriend. Your grades. Your friends. Football.” He glancesaway, fisting his hand, and then he looks back at me. “What’s real, Blaise?”
My heart clenches tight, and I look past him at the snowflakes outside. “I don’t know.” An inch of snow lines the bottom of the window, but it’s warm in here. Warm and safe in a way I only ever feel when Cole is around. I can’t place the ache in my chest.
“I broke up with her because I can’t pretend with her anymore. My feelings are just…nonexistent.”
When I look back at him, the ache in my chest burns brighter. I want to crawl closer, but I stay rooted to the floor. My dick is still out, flaccid, but Cole never looks down. His eyes search my face, offering me a rare glimpse behind the anger that’s always close to the surface. Beneath it hides a depth I doubt many have witnessed before. It’s both intriguing and scary as fuck. I realize, as he breaks eye contact to look out the window, that I want him to trust me.
“I don’t do feelings either,” I admit, trying to explain something I struggle to comprehend myself.
A muscle clenches in Cole’s jaw. He stays silent, watching the peaceful night.
“Not because I don’t want to.” I continue, feeling my heart thud harder. Why is it scary to be vulnerable? Especially with someone like him, who has always tried to cut me down. Even if he did it to keep himself safe from further hurt. His father fucked him up, and Cole still carries the scars under his ink. Meanwhile, I’m just faulty.
“I just can’t…feel.”
Cole is still looking out the window, his knuckles bloodied.
I zip my dick away before climbing to my feet and hobbling over to the bed. “Fuck,” I snigger, flopping down beside him. “You got me good. My ribs hurt like a motherfucker.”
His lips curve, and he tears his eyes away from the window to look at me. Then he shoulders me, and we chuckle. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?”
“Yeah…” I wet my lip, tasting blood, but I can’t stop smiling. Something warm spreads through my chest when he looks at me this way. “You’re an asshole, too.”
This time, when he laughs, I smile so big my cheeks hurt.
We fall silent, watching each other. The urge to kiss him strikes me like a boomerang. I clear my throat and look anywhere but directly at him.
When he sighs out and looks down at his hands, I swallow thickly. What is he thinking about? I hold my breath when he shrugs.
“You say you can’t feel…”
I stay silent, my heart thrashing madly.
I feel now.
“I don’t believe you.”
Staring at the side of his face, I sweep my gaze over his sharp jaw. Why does he hold this much power over me?
He focuses on his fingers—his nailbeds. “You wouldn’t have defended me the other day if you didn’t.”
