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His face softens, and he steps closer to me, his hand cupping my cheek. “Only if you’re standing beside me, Olivia Matthews. They say a King is nothing without his Queen.”
“Cole…” I sigh, the affection in his confession softening my tone. Sometimes, the intensity of what he says dangerously lowers my guard, tempting me to give completely in.
He shushes. “I know, just give me tonight, okay? We’re just Cole and Olivia out here.”
I bite down my lip and nod. “I’d like that.”
His hand squeezes my ass as he pulls me closer to his warm, hard body. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll show you the secret hook-up spot around hole seven that all the kids at my school brag about.”
I laugh. “Please. You think your generation discovered that? This was around when I was a horny teenager too.”
“Horny!” Cole exclaims, laughing with me. “If anyone is the horny one between us, I believe it is you.”
“Mom?” The voice behind me washes over me like ice water. I don’t realize I’ve spilled the drink till I feel the coldness soaking through my jeans, and I blink, staring down at the pool of red slush all over my shoes. Cole’s arm drops from around me, chilling me further as he steps away.
“Jensen…” he says tentatively.
The pounding of my heart rings in my ears as my chest constricts, and I find it difficult to breathe. My body is frozen, unwilling to turn and face the truth waiting behind me. Suddenly, I’m shoved to the side, and I stumble as a pair of hands catch my arms. I thank the stranger and snap back to the two boys rolling and grunting on the ground.
Jensen’s indistinguishable screams as he tries to punch Cole have his face turning red in exertion. Cole is blocking the blows and trying to calm him as tears are streaming down my face. I’m unsure which one I should plead to stop because I know Cole is holding back, but I hadn’t expected Jensen’s explosive anger. I stand there sobbing, wrapping my arms around my waist. It’s only a moment more before surrounding passengers jump in and pull Jensen and Cole off each other.
“You’re fucking dead!” Jensen shouts, shrugging off the strangers. He straightens his shirt, panting as he brushes off the dirt.
Cole holds up his hands. “Just let us explain. Please, Jensen.”
My son’s eyes cut to me, a multitude of emotions swirling in them. Disgust. Shame. Embarrassment. Hurt. The last one has my chest aching. I step toward him, but he mirrors my movement backward.
He shakes his head, wiping the tiny trail of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
A hiccuped sob escapes my throat as he storms away. I flinch when Cole’s hand touches my back, and he pulls away. Using my sweater, I wipe my tears and snot, not caring about the smudged mascara staining the fabric.
“Can you take me home?” I ask, already walking to his truck without an answer. The entire ride, I never think to ask why Jensen was there.
Cole
“MATTHEWS!Whatwasthat!YOU DON’T TACKLE HIM!” Coach screams from the sideline.
I push Jensen away from me and roll onto my stomach, bracing myself on my elbows as I stretch through the pain. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve the illegal tackle, especially since he rammed into me with his helmet.
He snickers, getting up from the ground. “Sorry, Coach. I mistook him for a different player.”
Dylan jogs over, offering a hand to pull me up. He gives Jensen a wary look. “Whatever is going on between you two, I would try to fix it because I feel like Jensen is out for blood.”
I grimace, glancing at my best friend, who is glaring daggers.
Coach’s whistle pierces the air. “Hit the showers. The play done pissed me the fuck off.”
Jensen’s shoulders sag, either in guilt that practice was cut short or disappointment he wouldn’t be able to hit me again. He walks off without another glance at me, and I sigh.
“I don’t know if we can fix it,” I tell Dylan, my defeated tone low as I shrug.
He grimaces and then pats me on the back before taking off to follow Joey into the locker room. Neither Jensen nor Olivia will talk to me, not that I’ve tried much on the latter. I figure she probably has my phone number blocked in solidarity for being on Jensen’s side. It hurts, but I can’t blame her. I also know I won’t have a chance with her again without fixing my friendship with Jensen.
I jog down the field, following my team into the warm concrete room that seems to absorb every smell that pours out of a teenage boy’s body. Most of them are already half-naked, waiting for an open shower. This is when Jensen and I would usually just throw our gear in our lockers and head to his house to shower instead.
As I walk to the row of metal where Jensen is currently stuffing his clothes into his bag, he pauses when I stand at the end. His gaze drifts to me, and he sneers, slamming the door shut.
“I hope you’re not waiting for an invitation.”
