31. Blaise

Cole is gone. I don’t think much of it at first, but when he fails to respond to my third message, my stomach churns with unease. I can’t put my finger on the emotion. It’s eating me up from the inside, like a parasitic invader.

Toxic thoughts whisper, ‘Something is wrong.’

Seated on my bed with my elbows on my knees and the phone in my hand, I stare at the screen. Stare and fucking stare.

Unread.

Why won’t the two ticks turn blue? Where the hell is he? I think back to this morning when I exited the shower. He looked spooked, pale as a ghost. Something is wrong. I knew it then. I sure as hell know it now. His silence drives the feeling home further, a nail in the coffin.

I shoot to my feet and pace the room. Rain splatters on the window to my left, but I barely notice the soothing sound. My heart is thudding too hard. I want to crawl out of my skin or climb the fucking walls. Where is he? Is he with Samson?

Chewing on my thumbnail, I bring up Cole’s number and try to call him again. It rings and rings and fucking rings. I’m trembling by the time I lower the phone before tossing it on the bed and pulling at my hair. My scalp prickles, but the sharp pain does little to soothe this raging storm.

Why won’t he talk to me?

Fuck this. I can’t wait around all day to hear from him. I’ll go insane, tormented by my destructive thoughts until I’m rocking in a corner, ready to be shipped off in a straitjacket.

Snatching up my phone and my jacket, I exit the house. The drive to Tiago’s is a blur. The wipers swish, swish, swish. My thoughts are a jumble of fucked up, and by the time I pull up in Tiago’s driveway, I’m sure I’ve aged ten years.

Cutting the engine, I stare out the windshield. Tiago’s five-year-old sister waves at me on the porch, her dark piggy tails swaying in the wind, her flowery red dress whirling around her ankles. She calls me her ‘superhéroe.’ It’s nice to be a hero in someone’s story.

My smile is weak when I exit the car and shut the door. The little girl runs down the steps, and I swoop her up in my arms and spin her around like I always do before setting her on her feet and patting her little head. I’m cold in many ways, but it would take a heart of stone not to smile around Lucía. “Run back inside. It’s raining.”

“Want to play Café with me?”

“Some other time. I’m here to see your brother.”

She takes my hand in her small one and leads me inside. The moment we enter the hallway, I’m greeted by the mouth-watering scent of freshly baked bread. Tiago’s mom, Camila, shuts the oven door and looks up as we pass the kitchen. Her face brightens with one of her signature smiles, which highlights the crow’s feet around her eyes. “How lovely to see you, Blaise. It’s been too long.”

She hugs me, too. They’re big on them in this household. No one escapes Camila’s warm hugs or affectionate smiles. She rustles my hair like I’m still a kid, and the niggling sensation in my chest eases a little. I can finally breathe easier. “Tiago is in his room.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to play Café with me?” Lucía asks, batting her long lashes.

Tiago’s mom ushers her into the kitchen. “Vamos, cariño. Blaise vino aquí para ver a su amigo.”

“Some other time,” I say to the girl before heading upstairs.

Tiago looks over his shoulder, pausing the game on the fifty-inch TV as I enter his room. Tossing the controller beside him on the couch, he removes his headphones and smiles. I plop down on the armchair and waste no time pressing the little button that makes the chair recline.

It whirrs, and I wait. And wait.

When I’m finally lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, Tiago covers a laugh with a cough and gets into character. “What brings you here today?”

“If you text someone and they don’t text you back…it’s bad news, right?”

“Maybe the person is busy?”

“The person lives on his phone. I’ve texted three times. No response.”

“Are you sure you’re not overly clingy?”

“Of course, I’m fucking clingy.” Frustration bleeds into my tone. “He always responds… Well, not always. But most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

“Okay, so maybe he’s terrible at responding on time. Something is different this time. I can feel it in my fucking gut.”

“Did something happen?”

I shake my head. There’s a stain on the ceiling from the time we shook a bottle of pop, underestimating how high it would spray when we uncapped it. I don’t remember ever laughing so hard. “I don’t know. We were good this morning. I had a shower, and when I walked back into the bedroom, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Did you ask him if he was okay?”

I roll my head and look at Tiago. “You’re a shit therapist. Of course, I did.”

“Ask him again.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

Tiago smiles as he rubs his chin, and I frown as I sit up. “What’s so funny?”

“I’ve never seen you so hung up on someone before.”

“I’m not fucking hung up on him.”

His lips twitch as he lowers his hand. “Are you kidding? Look at you.”

I peer down at myself as if my clothing will magically give me the answers I need. Tiago chuckles and reaches for the controller. The game starts back up. He puts his sock-clad feet on the table, crossing them at the ankle. “Mia wasn’t right for you.”

Pressing the button again, I wait a millennia for the chair to return to a seating position.

Whiiiir.

“I’m scared,” I admit, and Tiago sits forward as the race on the screen gets intense.

“Why are you scared?”

“I don’t know how to handle these emotions. I want to punch him one minute and fuck him the next.”

Tiago barks a laugh.

“I love his smart mouth and his prickly attitude, but I fucking hate how he’s so quick to retreat and hide behind his fucking walls.” I flop back and release a frustrated groan as I sink lower on the couch. “Why the fuck won’t he answer my texts? What the hell did I do?”

“Welcome to the world of chicks.” As if he realizes what he just said, he pauses, then shrugs. “I mean, he’s a guy… I have no experience with men, but it can’t be that different, right? Relationships are relationships. It’s like walking on eggshells. One minute, they’re happy, and you’re the man of their dreams. Then, the next, they’re screaming in your face, and you’re apologizing for shit you haven’t done.”

“He’s not screaming, though. And I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. I would prefer it if he yelled at me. At least then, I could fix…this. Whatever this is…”

Tiago curses at the game, then looks at me, but his attention soon gets diverted back to the action on the screen. I blow out a breath and stare up at the ceiling, half lying on his armchair. The T-shirt has ridden halfway up my back—that’s how far down I’ve slid on this piece of furniture. Fuck my life. Why can’t he return home so I can fuck it better? I bet if I suck him off, he’ll smile at me again.

“How do you handle emotions?” I ask Tiago, and he frowns, sparing me a brief glance. Another car rams into him from behind, and he lets out a string of expletives. “You just learn to handle them with time.” Giving up on the game, he tosses the controller beside him. “Look…I get it. You haven’t been in love before, and it’s frustrating and scary as fuck. Remember Amber?”

I wrack my brain. “High school?”

“That’s the one. She had big tits and braces.”

“I vaguely remember.”

“You’re a shit friend…” Tiago chuckles. “She was my girlfriend for seven months.”

My lips spread into a smile, and I snicker too. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“My point is that I was crazy about her. She was the first girl I ever fell in love with. We’re talking cheesy shit like butterflies and all that stuff guys don’t talk about.”

I hum an agreeing sound.

“I didn’t know how to behave around her. It was scary as hell.” He sits straighter. “But I knew one thing. Whatever you do, Blaise, you can’t force Cole.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, and he gives me a pointed look.

“You can be very…full on when you want something.”

His comment makes me bristle. I scoff and shake my head, ignoring the niggling voice that knows he’s right. “Don’t you think I’ve tried to be…better? This is who I am, Tiago.”

“I’m not attacking you. I’m just saying. Give him space. Don’t blow up his phone. Wait for him to come to you, and then ask him what’s wrong.”

My heart squeezes uncomfortably, and I have to clear my throat. “What if he doesn’t come to me?”

Tiago’s eyes soften. He feels sorry for me. I’m too vulnerable to take offense. Normally, I don’t like to show weakness or even admit that I have any. But this need, this desire to own and possess someone while also making them happy, is new to me. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t have any previous experience to draw from. It was so much easier when I just wanted to ruin Cole and watch him squirm like a dying worm. Not buy him chocolates to make him smile and cuddle him like a koala bear at night so I can listen to his heartbeat beneath my ear.

“If he loves you, he’ll come to you.”

I stare at him until my eyes water, either from not blinking enough or from the strange ache in my chest. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. A damaged car can be fixed. A broken leg can be put in a cast. But this… I don’t know what the hell to do.

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” I sound whiny.

I hate that, too.

Tiago hands me the controller. “Want to race?”

Clenching my jaw, I wiggle the stick with my thumb, then nod before sitting up properly in the chair. “Okay…”

“Okay?”

The lump is back in my throat, and it’s so damn hard to dislodge. I swallow and then swallow again, but nothing fucking happens. I rub my wet eyes, then sniffle and attempt a shaky, fake as fuck smile. “Let’s race.”

Leaning over the side of the couch, Tiago affectionately jostles my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

I can’t sleep.I keep staring at the streetlight outside the window. I’m on my front with my arms beneath the pillow. My joints ache from how long I’ve laid like this, waiting and waiting and waiting for Cole to come home. Is he cheating on me? Is that why he’s not responding to my messages? Did he find someone else?

A car drives by outside, its headlights briefly lighting up the room before darkness settles over my soul once more. I can’t remember the last time I felt this empty, this…broken. I thought he cared for me. I thought we had something.

Just then, the door creaks open, and every muscle in my body stiffens. My heart is in my throat as the bed shifts behind me. The urge is there to turn around and ask him where he’s been or why he hasn’t responded to a single message. But fear latches my heart, so I close my eyes and pretend to sleep instead.

Cole’s warm body settles behind me, bringing with it the scents of late night and citrusy cologne. I can feel him watching me, propped up on his elbow, staring at the side of my face.

I wait…

Soft fingers brush strands of my hair away, and my heart jolts like a spark plug at the sudden contact. Then he’s gone, and a tidal wave of hurt floods my chest. Why is fear so crippling? I’m just about to hurt him to get a fucking reaction out of him when he rolls back over and buries his nose in my neck. It’s gentle and soft so as not to wake me.

Why doesn’t he want to wake me? What is he doing? This isn’t Cole. He’s abrupt and forceful, yet sweet and… Fuck…I need to get myself together.

“Why can’t I stay away?” he whispers so silently I would have missed it if I wasn’t already hypertuned to his every breath.

The throb in my chest intensifies. Cole shifts behind me, getting comfortable. His breaths soon even out, but I can’t sleep, and when my father bangs on the door early in the morning hours, I haven’t slept a wink.

“Blaise, are you awake?” He tries the handle, and I scramble out of bed while Cole stirs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I throw on a T-shirt and stumble across the room. Dad tries to peer past me when I open the door, taking up as much space as possible in the small crack. I’m acting suspiciously, but I don’t know how else to behave. My head is a mess.

“I’m awake.” I rub the crusty sleep from my eyes and fake a yawn.

Dad frowns, eyeing me with distaste like he only just noticed what are undoubtedly dark shadows under my bloodshot eyes. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Dad. Love you, too.”

“I’m going away for a few days for work. There’s food in the fridge and money on the counter if you need to buy anything else.”

He looks past me again, and I will my heart to stop thrashing like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest to attack his face like one of the monsters in the movie Alien. I can imagine it now— my heart leaping from my chest and latching onto his face, sucking his brain out of his nostrils like slimy goo, or maybe the monsters in Alien laid eggs? I can’t fucking remember. All I know is that I need him gone.

“Don’t get into trouble,” my dad says, and I smile politely.

The moment he disappears around the corner, I shut the door and blow out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Fuck, that was close.

I turn to look at Cole, who sits up in bed. His gaze is shifty, and I don’t like that one bit. When he slides his legs out of bed, I stomp across the room like I’m mad, but I’m not. I’m just… I don’t even know what I am. But I’m determined to wipe that uneasy look off his face.

Cole tries to rise to his feet when I near him, so I fist his T-shirt and shove him back down. “Where the fuck were you? I was worried.”

“I was out with Samson.”

“Not answering your calls?” Dropping to my knees, I work his belt, ignoring the way he tries to shove my hands away. My brain runs on a loop, ‘Suck him, and he will smile at you again. Suck him, it’ll make it all better.’

The difference between now and the other times is that he didn’t fight me back then—not really. But now he’s pushing me off. I fall back onto my ass and come right back, throat clogged with emotions I don’t even know how to decipher. All I know is that I need to fix this—the broken look in his eyes. The distrust.

“Stop it,” he says forcefully, and I rear up and slam my lips to his. We topple back onto the bed, me on top of Cole, pinning his wrists above his head and forcing my tongue into his mouth. He’s not kissing me back. It doesn’t matter what I do, he won’t respond.

He. Won’t. Fucking. Respond.

I rip his belt open and slip my hand inside his jeans and boxers. Despite the empty look in his eyes, he’s hard. Very fucking hard.

A breath whooshes from my lips as my forehead descends on his. His dick twitches in my grip, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I work his hard length, savoring each labored, harsh breath.

“Please,” I breathe, my voice cracking. “Let me touch you.”

Tiago’s voice comes back to me, whispering in the recesses of my fragmented mind, “Whatever you do, Blaise, you can’t force Cole.”

I frown, trying to shut it out, but the voice grows louder and louder until it’s screaming at me. Ripping my hand out of his jeans, I fall back, breathing hard as he sits up and scoots back on the mattress. Shame eats me up from the inside. I don’t like the way he looks at me. I’ve never been one to care about others’ feelings, but I do care about Cole. I care about him so much that it eats me up inside. I would do anything to get him to stop avoiding my gaze.

He climbs off the bed and walks out without another word, leaving me alone with the mess of emotions inside me. I suck in a breath and count to three. I try so hard to listen to Tiago’s advice: Don’t be clingy. Let him come to you.

But I can’t. My body defeats my brain, and I’m up on my feet, running after him.

I slam him up against the wall outside my room. Cole’s eyes widen at the look of sheer desperation I’m sure is painted on my face. When I try to cup his chin, he turns his head. Fuck me, he could just as well cut me with a knife.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I plead.

A muscle tics madly in his jaw. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong?” I parrot, flicking my eyes between his, searching and hunting for the truth.

“That’s what I said.”

Tiago didn’t offer me any advice on how to deal with a situation like this. He made it sound so easy: ask what’s wrong. But what do I do when I ask what’s wrong and Cole won’t tell me? Like now. What then?

I try to kiss him, but he applies pressure to my chest and moves away. My brows knit together. “Nothing is wrong, huh?”

His jaw tics again, grating on my fucking nerves. Why won’t he just tell me why he’s angry?

He starts to walk away, and I tear at my hair. The fear inside me is quickly morphing and shifting into anger. It takes everything in me not to tackle him to the floor like we’re on the fucking football field. “Why do you always run away?”

Spinning around, his eyes flash with anger. “Now isn’t the fucking time, Blaise. Leave it alone.”

“No, I fucking won’t.” I storm up to him and shove him back. “You won’t talk to me. You say everything is fine. It’s clearly not fine.”

“You’re being paranoid!” he roars, and I stumble back a step.

“Just…” He sounds defeated, his eyes pained. “I’ll see you later, okay.”

This time, when he walks away, I let him.

If he loves me, he’ll come back… That’s what Tiago said.

And if he doesn’t…

I can’t let my thoughts go there.

Two days pass.Cole sleeps in my bed, and then he leaves. What do I do with that? I’m not familiar with the rulebook. We’re back at college. I’m a zombie at the table in the cafeteria, picking at my food, but not eating. I’ve spent the last ten minutes rolling a piece of pasta around the plate.

Tiago winces when he looks at me. I haven’t slept more than an hour here and there. I look like shit.

Glancing behind him when Cole enters the cafeteria with his friends, Tiago communicates silently with Ronnie. An entire conversation passes between them before Ronnie grits his teeth and slides his chair closer. The metal frame scrapes on the floor, and the scent of his clean clothes invades my senses. He rests his arm on the back of my chair. I pause with my fork on the plate, looking at him questioningly, but it’s half-assed. I don’t have it in me to care anymore.

Ronnie glares at Tiago, who gestures widely with his hands. Leaning forward, Ronnie hisses, “I don’t want to get beaten the fuck up, okay. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself for the greater good?”

“Because,” Tiago says, looking past us as he leans across the table, “it’s more believable if it’s you.”

Ronnie looks confused. “Why?”

“I’m too close to Blaise. Best friends.”

“I am, too,” Ronnie argues.

“Are you his therapist? I have the seat and everything.”

Ronnie blinks, and Tiago sighs tiredly as though the world weighs on his shoulder. He pushes his chair back, rounds the table, and pulls me to my feet. “You’re paying for my medical bill if I end up in hospital.” That’s the only warning I get before he crushes his lips to mine, right there, in the cafeteria for everyone to see.

I’m too shocked to react. I stand frozen for all of two seconds, feeling confused as fuck, before Tiago is pulled off me like he’s a sack of potatoes. Cole shoves him with such force, he crashes into the nearest table, causing a group of girls to scream. Then he punches him square in the face, and blood sprays everywhere.

Cole breathes like a bull. I don’t remember ever seeing him quite this…provoked. Not even when he picked me up from Jackson’s. Ronnie and Luke fly from the table to help Tiago, but I stay rooted to the ground.

Cole stalks away, and my feet become unglued. I run after him and pull him to a stop in the hallway. “What was that? Why did you punch him?”

“Why do you think?” he asks, pacing on the spot.

“I don’t fucking know.” I’m sarcastic, but I think Cole is too angry to catch on because he glares at me like he wants to incinerate me on the spot. “Okay, fine. Tiago kissed me. It’s not like you care, right? You won’t let me kiss you.”

He sneers, resuming his pacing.

“I’ve tried. Numerous fucking times. I’m paranoid, right? Everything is fine. That’s what you say.” I motion between us. “This isn’t fine, Cole. You won’t let me touch you. You won’t talk to me.” I lower my voice as a student walks by. “I’m not paranoid, Cole.”

The air escapes his lungs as he leans back against the wall. He looks exhausted. His chest expands with a ragged inhale. He stares up at the ceiling, his hands in his pockets.

How do you get someone to talk who doesn’t want to talk?

Instead of trying, I run a hand down my face. I’m tired, too. We’re both fucking tired. “I’m done.”

As I walk away, shoulders hunched, he calls out, “Remember at the beach when you said you’ve done some things you regret?”

I draw to a halt, but don’t turn to face him—not now when my heart is racing.

His voice is closer now, caressing my nape. “What is it that you’ve done?”

The video of Cole fucking Mia after I drugged them flashes before my eyes. And the mask I found under his bed… I can’t tell him. He won’t understand. I’ll lose him for good. Haven’t I already lost him?

Wetting my lips, I reply, “I haven’t done anything for you to worry about.”

“Is that so?”

His whispered words crawl down my spine, and I shiver.

“I’ve told lies, Cole.” I slowly spin around. “We both have.”

Cole flicks his hard eyes between mine.

I round him, walking back toward the cafeteria. “I’m gonna check on my friend.”