Eyes locked. Tension building.
"Then I feel sorry for you," she said softly, finally breaking the gaze.
She walked away and the air suddenly felt cold.
She feels sorry for me?
Nothing there to save?
The words burned. They weren't just a rejection; they were a diagnosis. My blood began to boil. It wasn't just ego anymore; it was a need to prove her wrong, to hurt her the way she'd just casually dismissed my entire existence.
She thought she was better than me. She thought her world of "feelings" was a shield I couldn't pierce. Fine. I'd show her how fragile that shield really was.
I pulled out my phone as I walked back to my car. I'd gotten Sienna's number earlier.
"Hey. You up for a drink?"
The reply was instant. "I thought you'd never ask. Where?"
I picked Sienna up an hour later. She wore a dress that was a cry for attention—short, tight, and exactly what I needed.
I didn't take her to the club. I didn't take her to a dive bar. I took her to a high-end lounge where the lighting was dim and the drinks were overpriced. I wanted her to feel special. I wanted her to feel like I was choosing her over everyone else.
But in reality, I was just using her as a weapon.
Sienna was easy. She laughed at all my jokes, she touched my arm every time she spoke, and she looked at me with a hunger that was so transparent it was almost boring. She was the polar opposite of Maya. She gave everything away for free.
"Maya's so serious all the time," Sienna said, swirling her martini. "She's like… a nun or something. I keep telling her she needs to live a little, you know?"
"I know," I said, leaning in. "She doesn't know what she's missing."
"Do you?" Sienna whispered, her eyes dark.
"I have a pretty good idea."
By the time we left the lounge, Sienna was leaning heavily against me. The plan was working perfectly, but there was a hollow pit in my stomach that wouldn't go away.
I drove her back to my place, claiming I had a "vintage bottle" I wanted to share. It was a lie, but Sienna didn't care.
She was Maya's shadow. Where Maya was guarded, Sienna was open. Where Maya was sharp, Sienna was soft. She was the perfect weapon.
"Maya would kill me if she knew I was here," Sienna said, sipping a glass of cheap wine I'd poured into a crystal glass to make it look expensive.
"What Maya doesn't know won't hurt her," I said, sitting next to her on the couch. "Right?" I whispered, my hand finding the small of her back.
She nodded with a shy grin plastered on her face. I reciprocated the grin, my eyes darting between hers and her lips suggestively.
I didn't love her. I didn't even like her that much. But as I leaned in to kiss her, I wasn't thinking about Sienna. I was thinking about Maya. I was thinking about the look on her face when she realized that the "genuine connection" she shared with her best friend wasn't strong enough to keep me out.
It was spite. It was calculated.
The night was a blur of motion. I was playful, I was charming, I was everything a girl like Sienna dreamed of. But inside, I was a block of ice.
I led her to my bedroom, the air heavy with the scent of her perfume—something sweet and floral that reminded me of Maya, even though it was different.
I went through the motions. I was good at this. I knew exactly where to touch, how to move, how to make a woman feel like she was the only thing that mattered.
"Cole," Sienna moaned, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I didn't answer. I just focused on the friction. Maya had called it meaningless. She'd called it friction without feeling. Fine. If that's what it was, I'll make sure it wasn't a quick thing. I'll make sure it's the best friction Sienna's ever had. I wanted her to have a story to tell. I wanted her to be so overwhelmed by the "Cole St. James experience" that she couldn't help but brag.
As we lay there afterward, Sienna's head on my chest, she sighed. "You're not at all like Maya said."
"And what did she say?"
"That you were... empty."
I tightened my grip on her shoulder, a muscle in my jaw leaping. "She doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does."
The next morning, I didn't feel like a winner. I felt like I'd swallowed a handful of sand.
I waited at the campus quad, leaning against a brick wall near the fountain. I knew their schedule, thanks to my lovely girl Sienna. I knew they'd be crossing here to get to their 11:00 AM lecture.
Then, they appeared.
Maya and Sienna.
Maya was talking, her expression calm, until she saw me.
She stopped.
Sienna stopped too, her face turning a deep, guilty red. She couldn't even look Maya in the eye.
I didn't move. I stayed leaning against the wall, my hands in my pockets, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across my face.
Maya looked at Sienna. She looked at the way Sienna was fidgeting, the way she was clutching her bag, the way she was avoiding Maya's gaze. Then Maya looked at me.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. I watched the color drain from her face, replaced by a cold, vibrating stillness. She didn't have to ask. She knew. She knew because I wanted her to know.
I pushed off the wall and took a slow step toward them.
I didn't say a word.
I just let my eyes drift to Sienna, giving her a small, knowing nod, before turning my gaze back to Maya.
See, Maya?
I let the thought project from my eyes. This is what your 'meaning' gets you. This is what your 'connection' is worth. I can have it all. I can break it all. This is life.
Maya's eyes didn't spark with rage. They turned into two chips of ice. The disgust that rolled off her was a physical force, a wave of repulsion that made me want to flinch, but I held my ground.
"You're even smaller than I thought," she said.
"I'm just a realist, Maya," I said, my smirk unwavering. "Like you said, it's just friction. And Sienna seemed to enjoy the 'noise' just fine. She can't even deny how good the friction was." The grin on my face widened as I looked at Sienna daringly, watching her baffled and struggling for words.
Maya's jaw tightened. She didn't say a word to me. She just grabbed Sienna's arm—not roughly, but with a firm, grounding grip—and steered her toward the library entrance.
Sienna looked back once, her eyes filled with confusion, but Maya didn't let her linger.
I stood there, the smirk frozen on my face. It slowly melted as Maya's disgust hit me in the gut. It slowly drilled on me that, I did the one thing that can make Maya hate me.
I looked at my hands, the black ink of the snakes and roses suddenly looking like chains. I'd spent my whole life trying to be untouchable, trying to be the one who didn't care.
And as I watched Maya disappear into the crowd, I realized that I'd succeeded. I was untouchable.
And God, it was the loneliest feeling in the world.
Out of nowhere, I heard Jax whistle low. "Holy hell. If looks could kill, you'd be a chalk outline right now."
I laughed, but it felt thin. My chest was tight, a strange pressure building behind my ribs. I've won the round. I've hurt her. I've seen the crack in her composure. But somehow, it feels like I am the one who just lost.
"She's just mad she's wrong," I said, shoving my hands into my pockets nonchalantly.
"She didn't look mad, bro," Jax said. "She looked like she was mourning you. Like you're already dead."
I turned on him, my eyes flashing. "Shut up, Jax."
I walked away, heading toward the parking lot. I needed to get away from the quad, away from the way Maya looked disgusted looking at me.
I'd spent my whole life making sure nobody could get close enough to see the cracks.
I'd used girls like Sienna as shields, as distractions, as proof that I was the one in control. But Maya... she wasn't looking at the shields. She was looking straight through them.
I got into my car and floored it, the engine roaring as I tore out of the parking lot. I drove without a destination, the city blurring past me.
Nothing there to save.
Smaller than she thought.
God, she hated me. I could tell from her face, I've really handed her the one thing she needed to cut me off.
And her hate felt more intimate than anything I'd ever shared with a girl in my bed.