Fast & Wet (The Fast 2)

And he did prove it, relentlessly.

Funny thing, it turns out everyone is an insecure disaster in high school. No one was immune. What you see on the surface is never what lurks below.

Cole’s life was a thousand times the mess mine was, he just hid it better, dealt with it better, coped better. Both of us camouflaged who we really were, but when we were together, we fit. We clung to one another.

He put an end to the reign of terror Makenna and I endured, straight away. Teenage me thought he was my soulmate, that we’d be together forever.

Now?

Well, now he’s just the reason I’ll have a hangover in the morning.

He’s also the reason I’ll be perpetually single if I don’t stop subconsciously comparing every other man to him or driving them away because it’s better to do the leaving than to be left.

I fill Makenna in on the pending interview with Imperium this week, and she doesn’t speak until half her bottle of merlot is gone. “Obviously, you have to go,” she twiddles her fingers.

She’s still thinking of ways around it, whereas I’ve resigned myself to it at this point. There is no way out of it without disrespecting Professor Tillman and jeopardizing my professional credentials with him and, therefore, the university.

“I do, but it’s just an interview, right? I won’t get the job. The odds of me seeing him at corporate headquarters must be slim to none.” I’m not sure if I am trying to convince Makenna or myself.

“We need contingency plans. What if they offer you the job?”

“I thought of that, so I will blow the interview, totally cock it up,” I nod, spurred on with my ploy by spiced rum.

“I don’t see you being able to blow an interview, but okay,” Makenna shakes her head. “The real question is what you’ll do if you run into him.”

“Do you think kicking him in the balls is too extreme?”

“Not at all. That would be ideal, actually. You’ll get your revenge and get blackballed by the company. They’ll probably issue a restraining order,” Makenna nods.

This is making way too much sense as my head gets foggy, and the room begins to spin.

“It’s been six years, Makenna, what is wrong with me?” I wrap my hands around my friend Jerry and take another swig. I have actually researched this extensively, looking for a reason why I cannot get over Cole Ballentine.

I am a highly functioning, smart, capable woman, for God’s sake. My eyes and hair may still be dull brown, but I’ve filled out pretty nicely, I think. I’ve been out with other men. I’ve had unfulfilling sex with some of them.

None of them ever do it for me, though. Not physically, not emotionally, not anything—it’s like all the electricity has been cut, and I’ve been working off a back-up generator for six years.

Certainly, none of them haunt my dreams or make me replay memories over and over like a motion picture in my mind.

I could date a million men, sleep my way across the UK, and none of them would make me feel the way Cole did. None of them would ever know me the way he did, none could light my soul on fire the way he did with one glance.

None of them would ever hurt you as much, either.

“Please,” Makenna sputters, sending merlot down her chin. “I’m still hung up on Doug Masters, and he was a world-class douche.”

“Total douche,” I agree with a bob of my head. “Remember when we put methylene blue in his soda and made him piss blue for a week? What a little bitch,” I giggle like an idiot.

Doug’s biggest ambition in life was making bongs out of large vegetables, and my beautiful, creative friend was far too good for his dumb ass.

“Umm, you put methylene blue in his drink. You always rose to the occasion in times of crisis. Me? I sat around crying for weeks on end like a loser.”

“Mmm-hmm, that’s right. Don’t mess with my crew,” I waive my Sailor Jerry at the screen. I’m such a gangster. “If you’re a loser, though, what the hell am I, Makenna?”

“Please. At least I only have to see Doug when I Facebook creep on him. You have to see Cole on TV, in magazines, watch him flaunt around with hot wom… sorry,” she cuts herself off when she sees my face go ashen.

“It’s okay,” I blink. Part of me is relieved to hear someone else fess up to Facebook creeping since I am guilty of that, as well.

Because you are a crazy person.