Combust (The Wellingtons #1) (17 page)

His close presence brings on heart palpitations, sweaty palms, and it’s alarming the response my body still has to him. I brush it off with a small laugh and channel my inner Alanis. “Well, isn’t it ironic?”

His eyebrows quirk up, and I know he gets the reference, but he doesn’t mention it. “Do you need me to tutor you in chemistry, Andi? For some reason, I find that hard to believe.”

“Umm, I’m not exactly sure if I’ll need a tutor, but my advisor wanted me to go ahead and set one up just in case. I had no idea it’d be you. Hell, I didn’t even know if you were still going to school here.”

He slides into the chair next to me, still holding on to the back of mine. His other hand comes up from the table and tugs on my hair before he drops his hand to my knee. A warm sensation flows through my body at his touch, and suddenly, I feel like that eighteen-year-old girl again.

“I could have said the same thing about you. When you said, ‘See you around,’ I thought maybe I’d actually, you know, see you around. But it was like you disappeared all over again.” His eyes are questioning, and I wish I had an answer for him, but I don’t.

Shrugging, I try to ignore the fact that his thumb is rubbing my leg over my jeans. “Probably our academic choices. It kind of makes sense that our paths wouldn’t cross with you majoring in chemistry and me in journalism.”

He leans back in his seat, removing his hand from my leg. I immediately miss the contact and want to protest, but I’d rather not scare him off three minutes after reentering my life. “That makes sense. Plus, I stopped going to frat parties with Seth and that’s the only place we ever saw each other anyway.”

I don’t bother telling him that I rarely attended frat parties either because something tells me that he wouldn’t believe me anyway. “Right. Well, it doesn’t matter. My procrastination put you back in my path whether I like it or not.” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth, and I don’t miss the way Cohen’s eyes darken. I want to tell him that that’s not what I meant, but instead, I say nothing. My mouth isn’t corresponding with my brain, and it’s as if I have three tablespoons of peanut butter on the roof of my mouth, rendering me unable to speak.

“Have you had your first chem class yet?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Well, then I guess there’s nothing for us to go over now. Why don’t we meet at the end of the week and we can go over the syllabus and your first week’s assignments?

I nod and will myself to speak. “Oh…okay, Cohen. That sounds good. And hey, I didn’t mean what I said. I meant more of whether I like having a tutor or not. Not specifically you. In fact, I’m glad it’s you,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. There’s truth in the statement, and the irony that my college experience began with him and will end with him has butterflies floating around in my stomach. Jesus Christ, I need to get a grip.

He pushes his chair back and goes to stand. As he does, my eyes rake over his body, which is no longer as lean as it used to be. Instead, the tight, blue T-shirt he’s wearing showcases hard muscles that didn’t used to be there. He’s still not overly muscular, but I can see hard lines and ridges in all the right places, and my mind travels south as I wonder how different he looks naked. A blush creeps onto my face, and when I look back up, I see Cohen studying me, expressionless.

“Well, whether you like it or not, I take my assignments very seriously. I’ve never had anyone I’ve tutored fail, and since you’re the last person I ever will, I’m definitely not letting you break my streak. Don’t worry about a thing, Andi. You’ll pass this class if I have anything to say about it. How’s Saturday morning? Nine a.m.?”

I’m suddenly aware that Cohen’s ready to call this initial meeting to a close, and the thought bothers me. Is this really our epic reunion? And why do I even think we need one? It’s not like we’re lovers who’ve been separated for years. But something about how this went bothers me, and I don’t want him to go.

“Sure. That sounds great, Cohen. I know there are no chemistry-related topics for us to discuss right now, but I have some free time before my last class of the day. Want to get coffee and catch up?”

Cohen catches me off guard when he leans down and brushes my hair behind my ear. My heart starts thumping loudly as his lips find their way to my ear. “No matter what you try to tell yourself, there will always be chemistry.” His breath tickles my ear, yet I’m stock-still as his words wash over me.

I know that he’s right, and I become giddy with anticipation of leaving this place and continuing to spend the afternoon with him. Hell, at this point, I’d even skip my last class just to get to know him again, to be in his presence. The last three years apart seem cavernous, and I want to know everything about him and what he’s been doing.

All too quickly, however, he’s pulling away. “But I can’t today. I have somewhere I need to be. I’ll see you around, Ruby.”

The feel of his lips are warm as they press gently on my cheek. I’m frozen in place as I watch Cohen turn and leave the tutor center, not looking back once. My hand comes up to the place where his lips kissed me, and I have to wonder to myself,
What the hell just happened?

And when can it happen again? Unlike mine, Cohen’s
‘
see you around’ wasn’t just a flippant goodbye. Instead, it’s laced with promise, and I can’t wait for him to keep it.

AFTER CLASS, Teddy picks me up and thankfully doesn’t ask about my meeting. When I get home, I try to get ahead on my coursework, but I find myself still reeling from seeing Cohen. Deciding to check out the new band in town and take the edge off with a few friends, I head to Reese’s workplace, Preservation Pub, one of the best bars in Knoxville for live music.

I spent last semester interning in the research department at the newspaper and not writing articles, so it’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I still feel at home. Somehow, I’m able to find a single empty barstool at the end of the counter, so I park my ass right there, waiting patiently until Reese notices that I’ve shown up.

As I wait, I think back on the day and still can’t believe how it ended up. After leaving the academic advising meeting, I had time to kill before going to the tutor center, so I found myself at the library. I was able to get my mind off my upcoming chemistry course by concentrating on the journalism assignment given to me. As depressed as I felt about having to take a science class instead of just focusing on my final major courses, I was even more thrilled to be tasked with checking out the local music scene again—something I hadn’t been able to do with my internship. It couldn’t have been more perfect. I just hope that my tutoring sessions won’t interfere with it, but then again, I guess I really have no choice. It’s the final stepping stone to my degree and pursuing a career in journalism.

My freshman year, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I’ve always loved music, but I never thought I could have a career that I could pursue music with. It wasn’t until I met Cohen that I realized how much I loved introducing new bands and music to other people as well as discovering new talent for myself as well. After everything that happened and we went our separate ways, I still never forgot his finals words to me.

“
We’ll always have our music.”

It’s a statement that’s stuck with me for so long, and it made me finally determine what I wanted to do. So I declared my major in journalism and joined the school paper, and by junior year, I was writing my own music column. My closing line was borrowed from Cohen. I hadn’t meant to do it, but when I got to the end of my first column, something was missing, and when I typed out those words, I knew it was perfect. Not that it didn’t freak me out. The first few weeks, I was nervous every time I went into the editorial room, just waiting for my boss to pounce on me, telling me that someone had contacted the office to say that I’d claimed his words, but it never happened. It probably helped that my byline was A. Kane. Cohen never knew my last name, so there was no reason for him to make the correlation. Plus, it’s not like he had a copyright on the words anyway.

At the thought, I sigh to myself, not sure why I’m rethinking the last three years without him. Until today, Cohen was faded history—at least for the most part. Somehow, we’ve seemed to have taken completely different paths because I haven’t seen him since freshman year. I was semi serious when I told him that I hadn’t been sure if he was still on campus. The only reason I knew he was still around is because of the girls I heard whispering and giggling about him in the library. And the coffee shop. And the bathroom. It was as if I couldn’t escape him, but he was always nowhere to be found. Not that I was ever seeking him out or anything. Bygones were bygones long, long ago, and Cohen Wellington was nothing but a blip on my radar. Hell, he wasn’t even a blip. He was so far from my radar that my sonar never even came close to detecting him.

And then today, with one look, the sonar went off, the beeping increasing until he was right next to me. Then it was just a flat line. Like my brain was saying,
Sorry, Andi. Tried to warn you, but he just came in unexpectedly and too quickly for us to be able to put up your defenses.

It’s not that he’s always been completely void from my mind over the years. The whole ‘out of sight, out of mind’ thing has been utter bullshit, at least when it came to him. I found myself still thinking about him every once in a while when a wave of nostalgia flowed through me due to some unforeseen circumstance. Like when I’d hear a new song I knew he’d hate on the radio. Or when Reese and I would go to Nashville to check out the rising stars and I found myself wanting to text him about a new must-listen song—not that I had his number to even do such a thing, but the urge was still there from time to time. The day someone introduced Spotify to me, the first person I wanted to tell was Cohen. And all those incredible YouTube sensations who sing better than most artists you hear on the pop radio stations? He’s the only person I know who would appreciate an acoustic cover over the real thing.

I remember when Stone Sour’s House of Gold and Bones came out, I tried to get Teddy, Cy, and Reese to listen to it, but none of them were interested. I knew right then and there that denying a friendship with Cohen had been a big mistake. If he were still in my life, I have no doubt we’d have ended up shoulder to shoulder on my bed, listening to Parts One and Two all the way through, unable to speak as the story played out in our ears.

Instead, I listened to it on my own. It was an absolutely brilliant masterpiece of an album. It was solemn, sorrowful, and it spoke to me on so many levels. I wanted desperately to talk to my friends about it, but no one quite got it. As soon as the final song played its last chord, I knew I missed having that connection with someone like I’d had with Cohen. Even though he didn’t
know
me, in just one night, he’d understood me more than anyone has. Music was our thing. And I’ve missed that connection.

That seems petty, but as the years went on and I started to use music to define me, my emotions, my feelings, I was suddenly very aware just how important it was to me. It wasn’t just entertainment. It was awe inspiring, soul awakening, and the most honest emotional outlet I could find. As much as I’ve looked for it over the years, I’ve never found anyone who gets that. Someone with whom I’d find a connection so strong, so compatible that all I’d have to do is play a song and he could read my mood. So I found myself comparing my dates, unfairly, to a guy I barely knew and they still never measured up.

Maybe it was more than the music. Maybe it’s true what they say—that you never really forget your first and that’s why I’ve always had him in the back of my mind even after having spent just one night together. And why he’s now at the forefront of it after seeing him earlier today.

Everything from that night has risen to the surface. Every moment, every feeling, every word said between us. And unlike my childish reaction way back then, I remember the night as so much more than just one single act. I just wish I’d been mature enough to realize that it wasn’t such a big deal, that I’d listened to Cohen when he said that everything else had been perfect and not to let what we’d done negate the rest of the night. Right about now, I really wish I could go back and kick eighteen-year-old Andi in the ass, especially since it’s obvious that I still have some sort of chemical attraction to Cohen, even though it’s probably way too late in our relationship—or lack thereof—to ever explore. Nope. That ship has definitely sailed. Hasn’t it?