**Completed** Cole Galloway has always had just enough of an ego to believe that the women falling at his feet were deserved. With an abundance of charm and looks to die for, who wouldn't want him?
Wynona Caldwell. That's who.
When Cole sets his s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cole
It's been over a week since I last saw Wynn.
One shitty, messed up week.
Not only was I dealing with the fallout from the injuries I received as a result of the run-in with my furious father, but also the demise of the recently revived spark between Wynona and me. It wouldn't be the first time, obviously, but every time my dad gets violent, I feel her slip a little further away.
I've texted her every day, often more than once. She's ignored me like a champ, her silence speaking volumes. This wasn't an unexpected reaction, since it happened once before right after we got caught sneaking off to Breckenridge. Last time, my persistence broke her resolve in two days, with Wynn being willing to at least remain in communication with me. This go around, it's been radio silence.
I gave up texting a couple of days ago. Instead, I'm banking on seeing her in person at our annual back to school party tonight— the one and only parent-sanctioned party Taylor and I are allowed every year, outside of our birthdays.
Truth be told, it's really only a thing because Taylor pouted her way into it when she was a freshman two years ago. Daddy dearest even hires a waitstaff, a nice bonus earned through one of Tay's infamous tantrums. She's got him wrapped around her finger. I don't mind being the beneficiary of her manipulative efforts, though.
Mom and dad cleared out several hours ago, and with good reason. I wander around the house as Taylor and her bitchy friends scamper about, prepping the rooms for the onslaught and setting out various foods and drinks. They talk incessantly about their clothes and hair, and nearly every bathroom I walk past is filled with a vapid airhead caking on more layers of makeup.
This isn't really my thing, being here for what's certain to become the shit show it is every year. Still, it's the best chance I have of seeing Wynn.
If she comes.
...
Our house is bursting at the seams with warm bodies, but there's only one that I care about. I haven't found her yet.
The scene is ridiculous as usual: alcohol galore, despite the fact that it was strictly prohibited by my parents, earsplitting music, and plastered classmates pawing at each other on the make-shift dance floor.
A bore.
Or maybe I'm just being a moody asshole.
"Can I get a water?" I ask Greg Hayword, who volunteered to be bartender for the evening. The waitstaff won't touch the booze for fear of liability, so it was up to my classmates. They showed up with loads of alcohol, as expected. As stupid as it is, I work too hard for this body to fill it with empty calories. I simply can't afford to.
"Water?" Greg laughs, and I kinda wanna strangle him. "C'mon man, how 'bout something with a little kick?"
"Just a water," I repeat sternly, stifling my anger. Greg eyes me as if I'm some sort of lunatic, but I couldn't care less about his opinion. He's had a thing for Wynn ever since I've known him, but she's always ignored his relentless pursuit.
