21
Tyler
“Hey, Nessie, truth or dare?” Chloe says as the lift doors close. She raises her chin and straightens her shoulders, attempting to push the bullshit out. It’s something she constantly does, and one of the things that’s always drawn me to her. She hates to focus on the lows, which I’m convinced is the only reason she thinks I’m redeemable.
Vanessa turns to her, a smile creeping across her features. “I was wondering whose turn it was. Oh, man … truth?”
Chloe grins. “If you woke up as a guy tomorrow, what’s the first thing you’d do?”
Cooper shouts out an unintelligible objection as Vanessa laughs. “I’d freaking find out if morning wood is a myth.”
Chloe’s nose crinkles with a giggle. “You’re so lying. You’d be outside peeing your name on the sidewalk.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re right.” Vanessa belts out a laugh, her hand reaching for Chloe’s arm as the two start giggling, talking more with hand motions than actual words.
“What would you do?” Vanessa asks, looking at Cooper.
“Are you kidding? If I had boobs, I might never leave the house again,” he admits. “Tell them, Ty.”
I consider the idea of waking up as a woman and shake my head. “You’re not wrong.”
The tension seems to stay in the lift as we pile out into the suite. “Goodnight,” Nessie says, hugging Chloe and kissing her cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Chloe says before giving Coop a side hug. He kisses the top of her head, an action I’ve seen no less than a hundred times that only tonight registers about the significance of their connection. He read her emotions so quickly, recognizing something was amiss before he even realized it with Vanessa.
Vanessa hugs me, her head turned, watching the same interaction. “It’s not…” She shakes her head. “It’s innocent,” she tells me.
I nod, knowing it is, and yet I still feel the pang of jealousy as I watch the two laugh.
Chloe’s eyes drift to mine, and her smile changes, growing as our eyes connect.
“Let’s go to bed,” Vanessa says, placing an arm around Cooper and heading toward the stairs.
I grab a glass and fill it with water, knowing it’s a part of Chloe’s nightly routine. “What are you thinking about?”
“Are you sure you want to hear all this? Because a lot is going on up here.” She motions to her head.
“I want to hear it all. All the unedited contemplations of Chloe Robinson.”
Chloe looks at me, her eyes deep pools of thoughts and emotions that make me want to jump into the deepest end. She walks closer, stopping at the counter across from me where she leans back, crossing one ankle over the other. “I hate that men call women whores and hookers and cunts. I hate that it bothers me when they do because I know it’s a power game and that it reflects on them and not the person they’re speaking to, but I really hate that it devalues my sexuality. I went from having this incredibly hot and intimate moment with you that made me feel beautiful and desired and happy, and one stupid and callous idiot said something to me, and now I’m feeling like I should be wearing baggy sweatshirts and jeans so people can’t see my body.
“It’s like if I’m too feminine, I’m a skank, and if I’m not, I’m ugly. There’s this tiny fine line, and it’s so easy to breach it.”
The aggression I’d felt outside when Cooper recognized there was an issue comes back with a vengeance, knitting itself into my skin, wanting retribution. Yet, I have little doubt that vengeance is what Chloe’s seeking. I set the glass of water on the counter, hating that this is likely only going to get worse for her when we return to Brighton and the rumors start to fly about us dating because I’ve seen it happen—watched as people made something out of nothing. Someone feels inadequate or jealous, and that leads to judgment and hurtful words. I want to protect her from that ugly side. “Fuck that bloke. Tonight was perfect. You were perfect.”
Her eyes fall from mine, and I move closer to her, tipping her chin up with my forefinger until her gorgeous green eyes meet mine. “Chloe, you’re always perfect. Whether you’re wearing sweatpants or a dress, there’s never a single moment I see anything except perfection. And that chap did too, and you’re absolutely right, he wanted to tear you down to make himself feel like more because he probably has a pencil dick that he’s trying to make up for by being an absolute tool. And to be honest, I can talk a big game about not caring about it or what anyone says, but in reality, I’d like nothing more than to make him bleed.”
She smirks. “Karma will catch up with him.”
I nod. “Hopefully in the form of a broken femur.”
Chloe laughs, and I feel her shoulders relax. I slide my hands to either of her hips, tugging her toward me so she’s pressed against my chest, her eyes brightening as she grabs my forearms to brace herself. I skim my nose across her cheekbone. “Let’s go to bed. We have another long day in the car tomorrow.”
She turns her neck to look at me, but she remains silent.
“What?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She takes a step back, reaching for the glass of water I’d filled for her, and takes a long drink before refilling it. Frustration rattles in my chest, reminding me how I’ve spent the past two years working not to be able to interpret all her small habits and expressions and how much I now regret it. I want to be able to read her as easily
