Page 110 of Stolen Summer
Before heading to the bookstore, we stopped to grab bubble tea from Cloud Tea, a before semester treat. Once school started, we’d be making boba at home. It was still hard to believe I had a place where I could make my favorite drink in the morning. Who was I?
Ice swirled in my glass as we walked on the college’s brick pathways. The air held the tiniest crisp to it, hinting that autumn lingered around the corner, and I found I craved the hoodie and sweatpants weather. I’d always been a summer girlie, but something about WU campus had me eager for the changing of seasons. I could imagine the trees changing colors like a sweep of an artist’s brush from lush green to deep or vibrant shades of gold, cranberry, and burnt orange. The grounds of Whitley were loaded with deciduous trees canopying the school. It wouldn’t be long until the grass would be blanketed in fallen leaves.
I took a deep breath, breathing it all in and appreciating how far I’d come when my dreams had seemed so far away.
Since I was lost in my thoughts, it took me a few paces to realize Frankie had come to a dead stop, and I turned around to see what the problem was. Her face had gone pale with a touch of annoyance and panic. “Oh shit,” she said.
My brows furrowed. I opened my mouth, but I didn’t get the chance to ask her what was wrong as another voice interrupted me.
“Quinn? Is that you?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
At the sound of the familiar voice, my body locked up, my heart started doing a marathon in my chest, and the blood drained from my face. The cup slipped through my fingers, crashing to the ground in a splattering mess and splashing tea and brown sugar pearls on my legs. The impulse to run spurred within me. I shouldn’t turn around. I should keep walking and pretend I hadn’t heard him call me by my last name. “Shit,” I whispered under my breath, echoing Frankie, while dread coated my insides.
“Not quite the hello I hoped for,” he said to my back, his tone closer. So much closer.
Thoughts scrambled together in my head, causing mayhem and destroying any hope of having a calm, cool reaction. Frozen, I took a few pounding seconds to discern which goddamn twin stood behind me. They had similar tones, but Cole had a lightheartedness about him Crew couldn’t pull off. And the use of my last name was something I realized only Cole did. If he had called me Killer, my reaction would have been different.
I turned, facing Cole with the best neutral face I could pull off. As much as I hoped I’d be wrong and another guy would be standing in front of me, I wasn’t.
His dark hair was tousled and messy like he hadn’t cut it all summer. A shadow formed over his lower jaw, and his striking eyes flecked with sparkling gold raked over me. Cole looked just as I remembered, fucking better if possible, and I wanted to hate him for it—for everything—with as much bitterness and venom as I desired. But I couldn’t. Not fully.
I also couldn’t look at him and not see his brother. My gaze darted to the corner of his mouth, and I refused to admit I felt something akin to disappointment at seeing no lip ring there.
Why? Why would the universe put Cole Riley directly in my path again? “What are you doing here?” I snapped, finally finding my voice.
A lopsided smirk appeared on his full lips as he shoved his hands into his back pockets, studying me with amusement. “I was going to ask you the same.”
I glared at him. “I transferred.”
He lowered his brows. “Then it looks like you’ll be seeing a whole lot more of me, Quinn. I’m guessing that puts a wrench in your plan of avoidance. You’ve done a decent job until now.”
“You attend Whitley?” I choked.
His mouth curved higher. “This will be my third year.”
Had I never asked him or Crew where they went to school? A massive oversight on my part. “It’s a big campus. I’m sure we can manage to avoid each other.”
His gaze dropped to my empty cup on the ground. “Let me buy you another drink.”
Frankie’s arm brushed mine, a show of support, silently letting me know she was still here. “It’s not necessary,” I said. Suddenly nothing sounded appetizing.
Cole stared at me as if he wanted to say more but held back, and the awkwardness ensued, so much so I couldn’t wait to escape, but I found myself asking, “Is he here?” I winced as the question left my lips, but I had to know—I needed to steel my heart and protect it.
He lifted a brow, and some of the roguishness faded from his expression. “Crew?”
“Shit,” I cursed again, brushing aside the chunk of hair the wind blew in my face, but hearing Crew’s name caused a burst of trepidation. My heart did a crazy series of skips.
“Does it make a difference if he is?” Cole asked.
My face tightened. “I’d rather be prepared when we run into each other.”
His eyes lingered on me, scanning my face. “He’s on campus, but I don’t know how many of his classes he’ll actually attend.”
Something in my gut twisted. “If that is an attempt to make me feel sorry for him or sympathetic, it won’t work.”
He forked a hand through his hair. “Okay, you’re still mad.”