"If I didn't know better, I'd say that movie bored you," he murmured. I opened my eyes and found him looking at me with a small smile. "Actually, it was pretty good. But the setup - ohh - I think I can stay in here all night." It didn't help that the seats were the kind you sank into, and the dim lights and air-conditioning just made everything so cozy.
"Do you want to watch another one?" he asked, eyebrow raised, as if challenging me.
"I get to pick!" I settled on Sing, because it was such a feel-good cartoon that never failed to make me smile. Unfortunately, Cole didn't seem to be interested in it, tinkering around on his phone instead. After a while, he held it up, and it took me a while to realize he was taking a picture of me. "What are you doing?" I asked, as I held my hand up to shield my face.
"Don't worry, it's blurry." He turned his phone to show me. It was a picture of my hair as I sat back on my seat, a short golden wave, and only a small part of my face showed. To someone else's eyes, it could be anyone. I guess I didn't care that he took it - there were no distinguishing features in it anyway.
His citrus-and-mint scent distracted me enough that I decided to cut the movie short.
"You sure?" he asked.
I nodded. "I've watched this at least three times."
His mouth quirked upwards. "Well, you should've told me. I would've asked you to sing."
Deciding to take him up on his joke, I began to sing Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing in a clear voice. I sang well, having won contests back home. I hadn't sung like that in a while, joyful and free, and I watched as his features turned from amusement to appreciation. When I had finished hitting the high notes, my eyes closed, I ended the song with a low, smooth voice, feeling the music in my veins.
Only for him to pick up the words again and belt them out with a rich, honey-like voice. The lyrics - he not only knew the lyrics, but sang as if he wrote them, molded the words around the peaks and valleys that was his voice. When he stopped, it was all I could do to stop my mouth from hanging open.
"You...sing," I commented stupidly.
"You're not so bad yourself." He seemed a little embarrassed, despite the performance he had given to impress me.
You are full of surprises, Cole Isaac.
I felt my heart thrum a little unsteadily when he leaned in close and said in a low voice, "Sometimes, when things aren't going the way they should, I come down here...and play my guitar, write some songs. The room is soundproof, and no one comes down here anyway."
"To be away from everyone?"
"Even Hans." He looked down at his hands. "Being surrounded by people most of the time means there's very little space for your own thoughts. Here, I can finally think...give life to those...thoughts and sentiments that hadn't had time to form."
I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Does Hans sing, too?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Other than the outside, we really are very different people.” He stopped at that, and even though I wanted to push, I let him be, sensing it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about.
We were silent for a while. I wondered whether this side of him I was seeing was the real him, or whether it was simply a side of him that he rarely showed. Perhaps the hot, popular guy with the swagger was also the real him. Or was it all for show?
That night, after we went our separate ways, I lay in bed, turning over the question as it came back to me again. Was Cole a guy of many layers, or was he all of them? Somehow, I couldn't associate the grim, beautifully cruel guy who had pushed me to the ground when I had taken his car with the one who sang to me today in that beautiful, rich voice. Today Cole had laughed with me, let his guard down and told me more about himself. I wondered about his change of heart – at what point in time he had stopped seeing me as someone to torment and torture and instead, became someone he allowed in, to see the cracks in his shield. And what I saw inside wasn't bad at all. Not the conceited, hot-headed person I had come to expect, but one who enjoyed his solitude, with a quirky sense of humor peeking through. Someone who...cared. Perhaps too much.
I switched on my phone and quickly checked my messages. Nothing that needed my attention. Opening my Instagram account, I saw Cole’s post. It was from tonight: the blurry picture of me, a golden arc surrounding the pale cream of my face. Respite. That was all the caption said. I felt my pulse quicken seeing the word, and wondered if he meant that I gave him that.
Chapter 22
Cole
I found Ella sitting by the pool late the next night, staring into the water, her bare legs swishing the aquamarine depths. She startled when she heard me approach. “Hey.”
“Hey, mermaid,” I said, letting some of my teeth show. “I’ve caught you sitting here enough times to wonder why you’re not in the pool.”
She looked at me, her forehead furrowed, before looking back at the water and replying in a quiet voice, “I’ve never learnt to swim.”
My hunch was right, but seeing how much she seemed to love the water, the longing I swore I could
