Cole

This story was edited by JerryJonesAfrique.

Rather, an incoherent, sloppy piece of work was made into a story by this amazing editor.

Much love,

BeautifulLiars.

PS. This is my first ever submission, be kind.

*****

Now that my mind is a whirlwind of emotions, sometimes I wonder if I had imagined it all. When I lay in bed at night, a part of my mind whispers that it was all in my head. So I decide, before I lose my mind, I would chronicle this beautiful disaster; as a proof that it wasn't mere solipsism.

Or maybe it was, the line is barely discernible in my head.

I was a fresher in college, and had barely been in the university hostel a month; slowly adapting to the groove of living with people I had never known in my life.

We had been cooped in the hostel in the evenings for the first month as dictated by the college; so almost all the girls decided to go out on the weekend we were finally allowed outside after 7 pm.

Although some girls had house parties to attend, most made a beeline for a tiny eatery five minutes walk from our campus. This particular café had apparently been serving as a makeshift bar for nineteen year olds' year after year.

I was surrounded by my classmates tapping away on their phones or making rapid phone calls to their boyfriends, or boyfriends-to-bes as we approached the sturdy brick house with a glow sign in squiggly cursive blinking invitingly at the end of the road.

The front of the building was painted a simple green, with frosted windows and a plain wooden door. As a girl pushed it open, a tinkling chime greeted us, along with the welcoming smell of brewing coffee and alcohol.

The café was decorated with old vinyl records that covered the walls on each end, from the ceiling hanging yellow lamps served as the only source of illumination. Facing the door, at the back of the room stood a counter of polished wood with scattered bar stools, and bottles of assorted drinks stacked on shelves, lining the wall behind it. One side of the room was closed off for the staff. The other side partitioned with a silver curtain, behind which was a tiny lounge- with woofers fixed into walls, hazy blue-red lights and the unmistakable clouds of hookah.

A perky throb of local, popular music wafted out from the speakers. I couldn't place the song, but its beat seemed in time with the optimistic air surrounding the girls.

Most of the girls in my pack moved towards the lounging boys who were pretending to be men. Almost everybody knew someone. We have Facebook to thank for that.

I don't have an account. I am not adept at swimming in the pond of subtleties that is socializing.

I swerved towards the bar, barely giving the half-men in low-hung denims and over-styled hairdos a glance. To be fair, they wouldn't glance back anyway.

Maybe I'd have a G&T and go back to my room. Least I could do is get a little drunk. Not that I was a charming drunk; but then there wasn't anyone I had to impress now, did I?

As I stood waiting for my turn, It dawned on me that I had missed this more than I had realised. Wistfully, I recalled how two of my best friends and I would drink till we passed out at the end of every semester. The crazy night ins, where we didn't have to bother about anything, only three of us and an endless flow of booze.

It was the only thing that had pulled us through the ten-hours-a-day study schedule we had to follow every single day of our sorry school lives.

I missed having a room to myself too. I tried not to remember my comfortable room at home. At least the dormitory would be blessedly empty tonight, given that most of the coy, flirtatious, tight-assed girls cooing around the just mentioned boys were from my department anyway.

I had ordered my pallid drink, and was watching the bored bartender mix it with his back to me, when I caught the reflection of a boy in the martini glasses shelved behind the counter.

I turned my head, taking him in with half-bored interest. Sitting by himself on a corner stool before the gleaming bar counter, playing with the rim of his unimpressive mug of beer, his seat and his self absorbed appearance made most people miss him at a cursory glance

He was sitting right under a yellow lamp, his dirty-blonde curls set off in the golden ambiance. He was dressed in a simple round-neck t-shirt and denims that thankfully did not have half his ass hanging out. I could see a simple leather belt peeking from under his shirt. One of his feet was planted casually on the leg of the adjacent stool; his finger was continuously rimming the mug of frothy liquid gold as he lifted his head to look right at me.

For a full minute I remained still, holding his gaze with the same lazy boredom, pretending to be the master at stare-downs in bars, just a flash of interest running through me as gave me a smile- uncertain, but a full winning smile.

Just then, the bartender, a man in his late thirties, with the unmistakable beer paunch and receding hairline that belied a midlife crisis, knocked my drink on the table harder than strictly necessary.

I flinched at the sudden action, tearing my gaze away from the stranger to give the bar man a requisite dirty look, but he was gone.

Rolling my eyes, I picked up the glass, turned and started walking over to where my smiling stranger was sitting. The smile got bigger.

I raised my glass to him, sipping the bitter drink with a little grimace.

"Cole" he said, offering his palm. I took it, not offering a name in return. His hand was firm and large, it enveloped my hand completely.

I looked down at our conjoined fingers, He had calluses on the side of his thumb, a part of my brain registered that he probably played the piano. His grip was tight but light-making me wonder if he knew martial arts.

My mind was screaming at me to stop staring at his hand like a psycho with limb-fetish and say something.

Anything.

I was so not good at conversations.

"You're not from around here," I observed aloud.

No shit.

He didn't seem to mind my nail-on-the-head approach to communication though.

"No, but neither are you." He gave me his affable, self-conscious smile. "This is my second year at the University. My usual Friday place is closed down this week."

I wondered briefly why he was indulging my awkward attempts at talking, while my mouth rambled on.

"Beer is a rare choice for Friday nights. Men usually pick something stronger." - I swirled the oily liquid in my hand. I had low tolerance, I'd be sloshed by my fourth drink.

"I was going to drive home." He motioned at the glass in my hand- "You have a ride home?"

He had a hint of a rasp in his voice; like he had been silent for a while.

"I live across the block. University Campus- just been here a month"

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink, while looking at me over the rim of his mug.

I felt the questions disappear in my head, like soap suds under sluices of water.

There was something about the way he was watching me, I could feel the intensity of his gaze- not many men look at me like that.

In my defense, I am not strictly unattractive; I am just too ordinary. Maybe I'll draw on a mole on my lip, Marilyn Monroe style. I tucked my hair self-consciously, trying to appear confident as I stood on my sensible sandals. There was nothing sophisticated or seductive about me. I had no idea what he was looking at.

Laughter rang through the room as one of my batch mates teetered out from behind the bead curtains, screeching out 'reeeefillll', and slammed a glass down on the table.

Partly relieved for a distraction from the awkward silence, I turned around to watch the richest girl in the hostel make a fool of herself.

I took another sip of my drink, watching as she held onto the counter, ready to topple over, revealing half of her voluptuous Her dress was probably my entire allowance for three months.

The bartender looked up from where he was obsessively polishing the counter, gazing at her with an expression of pure loathing, taking in her manicured nails scratching his beloved bar table.

She pouted and held the glass out over the bar and at him wearing her best can-i-have-some-more-please expression. She didn't quite make it though, because the glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the table.

"Oh my...!" I heard Cole swear under his breath and half-stand.

I watched the bartender turn red and stalk over to where she stood, erect now, all her buzz gone and replaced by an apologetic expression on her face.

I was convinced the bartender was going to throw her out, and he indeed would have if Cole hadn't slipped in between them. He gave the seething man an affable smile, placed a note on the table and simultaneously slipped his hand around the girl's waist. The girl was looking at him with wide eyed wonder as he slowly scooped her up in his arms and walked confidently to the place where her friends sat watching the show.

He deposited her on a couch occupied by her girlfriends, nodded at the others and turned back when the girl called out,

"Stay! Please!" Her letters still slurred. "staaaaaaaaaaaaaay" "You are my hero" She scooted slightly, her dress hitching up her smooth thighs as she made space for him between her and another girl who gave him a dazzling smile, patting the couch slowly while she drawled out. "Come, sit with us." her invitation more coherent than her dazed friend's.

Her hair fell about her pixie face in perfect ringlets, her eyelashes curled with mascara. In her black designer dress and supermodel figure, she could easily be one of the hottest girls in the whole university.

I stood no chance once a boy set his eyes on her.

I saw him turning towards the counter and quickly glanced away, disappointment already gnawing at my belly. The warmth of the drink was spreading through me and I decided all I wanted to do was get back to the hostel and noncompetitive security of my bed.

"Well that was awkward! I am pretty sure the girl groped me in the short span that I carried her through." He joked.

I started and looked up at him, He was standing very close behind me. I hadn't even heard him approach.

My heart leapt off a cliff and heat rose to my cheek at the sudden burst of happiness that ran through me.

"I am sure it was unbearable." I couldn't keep the sarcasm off my voice.

"Not unbearable- just not desirable."

I snorted, not really bothering to reply. I mean, even I would have enjoyed that girl's body against me. She was hotter than fifty me's made over by Paris Hilton's personal stylist put together.

He stood quietly, leaning against the counter, tilting his head and watching me.

I felt a blush rise to my cheek, chewing my lip nervously. After another half a minute of near awkward silence- I came to a decision. I didn't know what he was aiming at, I didn't know why he was hanging around still. Somehow, none of it mattered. I found him intriguing; but I wasn't in the mood to play the complicated game of flirting. I never really understood it much anyway.

Some of the other guests were leaving- I could hear the tinkle of the curtain as they laughed and stumbled out of the room.

Some of the girls called out in a drunk shout- " byeee Coleee" they lay stress on the 'e' sound, making it sound like the dog-name, Collie; I hid my smile.

The friend who had offered Cole a seat stumbled over to where we stood, pretending like I was invisible thrust her phone under his nose.

"Can I have your number?"

I rolled my eyes as he looked her over, smoothly taking the sleek phone and beginning to dial, presumably saving his number to her phonebook.

I quelled the sudden prick of surprising jealousy, telling myself it didn't matter to me if other women wanted his number.

Suppressing an irritated sigh, I drowned my drink, and turned around to leave. I had taken half a step when he caught my wrist.

He was still holding the phone, smiling at the girl, but his fingers were ringed around my hand, in open view. I looked bewildered as the girl fixed a frosty glare in my direction, as he charmingly handed her back the phone.

My cheeks heated up in embarrassment, as I willed myself to not pull my hand away.

His thumb was on the inside of my wrist, and I had an awful feeling that he was measuring my steadily climbing pulse rate. I tried not to concentrate at the sensation of him rubbing an endless circle on my skin as he waved at a few of her other friends, leaning against the counter with the air of absolute nonchalance while I stood beside him like a red faced hot mess.

When all of them had left, he finally turned towards me, a gleam in his eyes. They were a shade in between blue and green, I couldn't decide on which.

"Can I walk you home?" He asked.

I stared at him stupidly, before nodding, but pulled my hand away. I felt a little sulky, as I involuntarily gripped my wrist in my hand.

His mixed signals were driving me crazy, I wanted him but at the same time I refused to be led on and dropped halfway. My emotions were in a turmoil as I chewed my lip, trying to understand his odd behavior, wishing I could read his mind.

Cole took out a few bills from his back pocket enough for both our drinks and left it on the counter.

"Did you get jealous?" He asked casually as we wove our way through the tables.

My heart stopped for a second, and a hurried denial sprung to my lips as it dawned on me that I actually was inexplicably jealous. I had lived my life content with being studious, almost looking down on girls who cared only about appearances. Now I was jealous of exactly what I had strove not to become.

"Why should I get jealous? She is studying fashion designing in our university, just in case you were interested "

He looked at me, and asked casually. "So you know her?"

I did. Everyone knew you if you drove to your first day in college in a Porsche. I nodded solemnly. "Yes, she has a cat-fetish and rumor had it that she tied her last boyfriend up to the bed while the animals licked him all over."

He smirked as he opened the café door for me, murmuring "That is strange because her wallpaper is a snapchat of her with a huge Alsatian that read- "My kind of cat."

I blushed and cursed under my breath as I snuck a look at him. He was openly laughing at me as we walked out of the door into the chill air of the night. I wrapped my arms around me and snuck another look at his still laughing face. He looked gorgeous when he laughed, his face crinkled and deep dimples appearing on each cheek. God, he was handsome. I think I was staring, and almost drooling. I started as he waved his hand in front of me.

"Hey lovebird, left or right?"

I blushed some more, as he stared down at me from his six foot height, and muttered a "right" before turning to start walking.

God, I felt so awkward... so bloody wound up.

The last few months, with my high school finals , the subsequent barrage of entrance examinations, and the excitement of adjusting to a new phase of life; I was living away from my parents for the first time, all of it had left me in a cranky nervous ball.

What I needed, in plain honest words, was a good, long fuck.

However, that required a lot of wooing or being appealing enough to be wooed, and I was too stressed out to play that cat and mouse chase all girls are inherently good at - a trait which had been completely denied me.

I inhaled the clean scent of the air concomitant with the freshness after a down pour. My senses returned from my musing and I realized it had rained outside for a bit. The sickly orange of third world country street lamps bathed the wet asphalt, painting the world in a washed out shade of yellow and grey.

He took my hand again.

The stars aligned, the clouds shifted, the air seemed lighter, romantic almost. My blood sang, an emptiness I hadn't known existed seemed to fill up with his presence by my side.

His fingers were warm as he began walking me towards the hostel, a welcome contrast to the cold atmosphere, My digits slowly interlocking with his we walked, I felt all my reluctance vanish.

He let the silence do the talking, my head swimming with thoughts as we walked. From the jumble pile of ranting my brain always seemed to be filled with, a stray thought emerged in a sudden flash before my eyes, of his callused hands sliding around my naked body as we breathed hard, our figures entwined in the throes of sexual fantasy.

My breathing hitched as I felt my nipples tighten in my bra cup. I stole a quick glance at him, hoping he didn't know how to read minds, even though my red ears would have given almost everything away. Thankfully though, he hadn't seemed to notice. However his breathing seemed strained. I noticed his gaze kept shifting to our joint hands.

The air between us was charged with a tense expectation, so palpable that I could hear my heart thumping loud in my ears to the rhythm of a constant heat which seemed to flow from his body to mine through our joint hands.

Everything - every brush of skin, the sound of the scrape of his denims against his arm, the soft squelch of his shoes as we walked over the slightly muddy campus - everything seemed into flood me.

All my senses were in overdrive - the stress, the alcohol and the unfamiliar feeling of his hands on mine was getting to my head.

We were almost at the door to my hostel when an iron certainty hit me. I wouldn't make it.I couldn't possibly handle another week of continued rustiness on masturbation alone.

Especially when I had come this close.

'Especially when he smells so good that you'll never be able to cum once it fades,' a small voice whispered in my head.

He did indeed, He smelled of a lingering perfume; not some overdose of deodorant, but a proper perfume - a combination of musk and an underlying smell of manliness that was so intoxicating and heady that it worked better at getting my insides than the gin had.

I thought of having to go back to my room, which I shared with three other cranky girls and paused. I looked at the pout of his lip in the light of the dulled bulb on the doorstep and all lingering thoughts of decorum fled.

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. I was at least a foot shorter than him, so my lips barely reached his lips. Instead my puckered kiss caught his shaved chin

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He simply wrapped one of his big arms under my ass, lifting me up bodily and crushing my softness into him.

His mouth was a searing hot question seeking to devour mine. He tasted impossibly good, so I wound my arm around his curls, kissing him back without a single care in the world.

How long the kiss stretched, I can't remember. All I knew was the taste of his mouth against mine, the way his arms slowly traveled up my body, allowing my frame to slide back to the ground.

His smile was back when we finally stopped to catch our breath. He was looking at me with an expression so hungry, so impossibly tender, that I felt my heart soar. What had I gotten myself into?

I pushed my cynicism aside, as he cupped my cheek, looking into my brown eyes.

"I am quite sure this is a dream," he said.

I took in his serious expression, the earnestness in eyes, and a pinprick of courage grew in my fluttering heart.

I smiled back, taking his hand and slowly lifting it to my lips. His breath was ragged as I gently bit the stiffened meat of his thumb.

"Is that real enough for you?"- My voice was soft, a bare whisper.

The smile returned, a groan escaping with it.

"Will you get into trouble if you don't go back?"

I ducked my head, checking my watch. I should have been afraid, apprehensive atleast, about what I was just proposing to do; but the man before me exuded a sense of safety that told me he wouldn't do anything I didn't wish for.