Page 2 of Bargaining

He wrinkled his nose. “It matters to me. I want to make my own way in the world.”

Fine. I’d try again later to get it out of him. Cole was stubborn as hell. If he didn’t want to talk about a bruise or his family or whatever was going on in his life, he wouldn’t.

He craned his neck, trying to look at the drawing. “Can you make my nose look normal?”

I shielded my sketch pad from his view. “There’s nothing wrong with your nose. Once I’ve marked out the sides of your face, I’ll leave plenty of room for it.”

He snorted and settled back into stillness. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. All portraits need plenty of ‘nose room’.”

“It’s too late now. You’ve flat out told me you think I have a huge fucking nose.”

Laughing, I threw the nearest teddy at him. “Your words, not mine. I happen to like your very average nose.”

He caught the stuffed hedgehog smoothly and peered at it. It was the one he’d won on the tombola at the village fete a couple of years back. If it was anyone else, I would have felt embarrassed about still having soft toys all over the place. Cole was the only boy I ever had in my bedroom, so at least I didn’t have to go crazy hiding all my books with half-naked men on the covers or stashing away my pencil collection. He didn’t even seem to mind me burning my incense, which always had Tiff coughing and whining.

“Your nose can’t be too much of an issue for you, anyway. Tiff said she saw you at a party last weekend, and every girl was falling over themselves to talk to you. It must be flattering. Is there anyone you have your eye on?”

Music from the TV downstairs rumbled softly into the silence.

“Not really.” He kept his face still, but his gaze slid to mine. “What about you? Do you have your eye on anyone?”

“Me? No. You should see how immature and annoying the boys are at my school. It’s nothing like Ashcombe.”

“I thought the Ashcombe boys were a bunch ofprivate school poshos?” His voice took on a sarcastic edge.

Guilt prickled my skin. Cole had overheard Tiff and me talking about the boys at the school where Dad taught, and now he’d never let me live it down. “I said I was sorry about that.”

“I know.” He shot me a sardonic smile. “I just enjoy watching you squirm.”

“Dating is drama. I’m focused on getting out of here. I don’t want to be tied down. All I want is to travel the world and paint. When I’m an old spinster, like thirty or something, I’ll have lots of dogs to keep me company, and hope they don’t gang up as a pack and eat me.”

I looked up to see him watching me with a frown. “You don’t think you’ll do the ‘marriage and kids’ thing one day?”

I shrugged. “I can’t see it.”

His frown deepened. “Why not? You’re too young to be this cynical.”

Not cynical, but realistic.Hard to see anyone signing up to spend the rest of their life with me when I couldn’t even find someone to kiss me on the mouth. Better not to think about it. Unlike me, Cole had kissed plenty of people. He’d probably been hooking up with girls all over Europe this summer. It shouldn’t have mattered. He could kiss whoever he wanted.

“It’s Friday night, and everyone is probably out, and I’m here doing this. I don’t know if I’ll ever find anyone willing to marry me,” I said.

“It’s your choice to stay in. You could be out having fun.”

It was always the same old faces. Everyone knew everyone in Ecclesdale. Everyone was up in everyone’s business. It was suffocating. Thank God I’d be out of this village soon.

“This is my kind of fun, and you’re a fine one to talk. Studying history with my dad on a Friday night? You could be out having fun, too.”

He looked me squarely in the eye. “This is my kind of fun.”

Silence thickened between us. I added the contours of his sharp cheekbones and jawline to the sketch. His eyes traveled over the vision board I’d taped above my dressing table. Tiff and I had madethem together. Mine was full of exotic places I’d cut from travel magazines, galleries I wanted to visit, and brightly colored Post-its with inspirational quotes that felt cringe now that Cole was studying the board so intensely.

A bride and groom sat haphazardly at the center of the collage. The bride wore a huge white dress covered in lace and crystals, fit for a royal wedding. My own bloody vision board had sold me out. Now I couldn’t deny that the squishy romantic in me wanted to be swept off my feet one day.

“I tell you what, if you get to thirty and you’re not married, then I’ll marry you,” Cole said quietly.

My shoulders tensed. “I don’t need your pity proposal. That vision board was Tiff’s idea. I did it to humor her.”