Page 31 of Blush Crush

“I saw you. I was upstairs in Ethan’s office talking about the RMVA’s golf tournament.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say. I didn’t think anyone saw me during my parking lot pity party, let alone the last person I ever thought I’d see at my family’s winery. Normally, I’d feel embarrassed hearing someone had witnessed me in a moment of weakness, but this is Cole, not some guy I’m trying to impress.

“Did he say something to make you cry?” Cole asks eventually, a muscle in his jaw popping.

“No.” I let out a dry laugh. “Someone like you would never understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Because I’m a guy?”

“No, because—” I gesture at the length of him. “You look like that. You’ve probably never felt rejected a day in your life.”

A slow smile grows across his face. The smile he uses like a weapon when it’s aimed at unsuspecting women. “I knew you found me attractive.”

“You’re well aware of how you look, pretty boy.” I roll my eyes, but a laugh betrays me. The alcohol is to blame. Sober Ariana would never admit something like that. Even if it doesn’t mean anything.

His eyes are twinkling at me. “Aw, you think I’m pretty?”

“That would be the only thing you hear.” I try to sound annoyed, but the effort is futile. I’m having far more fun out here with Cole than I ever was inside.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m very familiar with feeling rejected, just not in the way you think. So try me—maybe I’ll relate more than you realize.”

I’ll probably regret this later when I’m sober and clear-minded. Divulging my insecurities is usually something I reserve for Layla. Secrets between us are nonexistent—there’s a safety net there I don’t feel with anyone else. Not my other siblings, noteven the few friends I do have. She gets it, even when she doesn’t fully get it.

Maybe it’s the darkness settling over the patio, far from the crowd, but right now I feel like I could tell Cole just about anything. Must be the effects of a full moon. I’d look up to confirm, but I think it might make me dizzy.

“His date—or girlfriend, whatever she was. She was everything I’m not. And it’s not her fault, but it made me feel shitty about myself. Made me wish I were as committed to working out as Layla so I could at least lose this pesky twenty pounds. Made me wish I were more of a career girl—had something more impressive to say than that I make coffee for a living. Dressed better. Looked better. I’m just never going to be the desirable girl. And it sucks. But I’m fine now, really. It was a weak moment. That’s all.”

Cole doesn’t say anything right away. For a moment the only sound between us is the muffled bass from inside the bar. I keep my eyes trained on the ground, suddenly very interested in the little bows on my ballet flats rather than the word vomit that flew out of my mouth.

“Well,” he finally says, voice gruff and gravelly, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

That gets my attention. “What?”

“You heard me.” He leans forward slightly, forearms braced on his thighs. “Everything you just said? Complete bullshit.”

It’s not exactly the response I was expecting, and anything that might’ve been on the tip of my tongue dissolves into nothing.

“You’re so hard on yourself,” he says, almost to himself.

I am hard on myself. Confidence has always been a struggle for me. You can have all the privilege and love and support in the world and still be shattered to pieces when you overhear the popular boys at school calling you the fat twin. Or when youstart to hope a guy might like you, only to realize he was really interested in your sister and using you to get closer to her.

They’re all things of the past, but where wounds healed, scars remain.

So, yeah, I can’t help comparing myself and feeling like I’m never enough. “You just don’t get it,” is all I manage to say.

He lets out a humorless laugh. “No, I think you’re the one who doesn’t get it.”

“Enlighten me then.” I cross my arms, emphasizing the challenge in my voice.

Prove me wrong.

My heart almost begs for it.

My head knows better.

“For starters, you’re gorgeous. All this talk about not looking good because you’re not stick-thin and blonde? It’s ridiculous. Knock that shit off. You could have men eating out of the palm of your hand—you have no idea.”

“I—I?—”