Love, Ally by Hannah Gray

fourteen

Ally

“Sweetie, you can head home. I’ve got it here. It’s Saturday night, and you’re a college kid, so get your ass out of here and act like it,” Carla tells me as she starts a new pot of coffee.

“Nah, it’s okay. If anyone should leave, it should be you. You can go home and hang out with your boys.” Wrinkling my nose up, I frown. “Besides, I don’t have much interest in the college night life.”

I’m not lying; I really don’t. Making money sounds much more appealing. The secondhand laptop I bought is on its last leg, so I’m saving to buy a new one, and that shit isn’t cheap.

She laughs and shakes her head. “Look, love, I’m aware you don’t have teenage boys, much less three of them, but let me tell you, they are fucking exhausting. And sometimes plain ol’ gross.” She presses a hand to her forehead. “I’m good to stay here. This is my break. I can go out back and smoke a cigarette if I want to and drink coffee in between working. All is good.” When I don’t say anything back, she widens her eyes. “For real, weekend nights here have been slow. We all know everyone’s over at the pub down the road.”

“I can hear you!” Lenny calls from the kitchen. “My food is way better than the crap they serve at that shithole!”

Looking at me, she rolls her eyes. “I agree with you, sweet thing,” she calls back to him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still right. Miss Ally here needs to go be young and free. She’s been working five shifts a week and attending college.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I just don’t know how you do it, sweetheart. You’re going to burn yourself out.” She widens her eyes. “Or worse, give that pretty face of yours wrinkles,” her Southern accent drawls.

Pushing through the swinging door, Lenny wipes his hands on his apron. “She’s right. Maybe you are working too much, Al. We can hire another waitress. That way, you’d have more da—”

“Fuck no,” I cut him off mid-sentence. “I don’t need any more days off. I like to work. I need to work.”

Eyeing me cautiously, he finally nods. “All right, you’ll keep your shifts. But not tonight. Tonight, you’re headed home for the evening. Or to party or whatever the hell you kids do these days. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow for the breakfast shift.”

“I can stay,” I say, glancing between the pair of them. “I really don’t mind.”

“Go have fun. Go to a party. Wear a tight dress and show off that sexy body.” She frowns. “I know I wish I could,” she whispers the last part under her breath.

“Fiiine,” I huff out. “If you insist. But if it gets busy and—”

“It won’t get busy. We’ll be lucky to have another customer the rest of the night. Everyone is at King’s Pub,” Carla says, examining her painted nails. “It’s the new place to be these days.”

Lenny puffs out a breath and stalks back into the kitchen, pushing the swinging door rather aggressively.

“Too much?” Carla says, looking up at me.

Stifling a laugh, I nod. “Yes. Way too much. Lenny hates King’s Pub. You know this.”

She does know this, but that’s just how she is. She’s like Becky in Waitress—aside from the fact that she is not sleeping with the cook. Because the cook is Lenny, and that would be gross.

“Well, he can hate it all he wants, but they are still the ones who get every ounce of business on weekend nights,” she answers in a hushed tone.

Gathering my things up, I nod. “Yeah, well, that might be true, but we still get the most for breakfast and lunch.”

My apron pocket was full before eleven a.m. this morning. We were packed.

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night, girlie. See you tomorrow,” she says before blowing me a kiss.

Once outside, I pull my phone out, opening multiple texts from Sloane.

Sloane: I think I might go to a party at the baseball house with some girls from one of my classes.

Sloane: These girls are acting crazy. I need my BFF!

Sloane: They are also sort of bitchy and petty. Seriously, where is Allycat when I need her?

That makes me smile. I have only known her a month, yet she’s calling me her best friend.

Sloane: So, don’t kill me … Cole Storms asked where you were, and I said work. He freaked out, saying something about walking home in the dark. Now, he’s headed your way. Like I said, don’t kill me.

Sloane: Are you mad?

Sloane: OMG, you’re so mad, aren’t you? ☹

Great. Just great.

The last message was sent ten minutes ago, so if I’m lucky, I have five minutes to make it back to my dorm.

Me: I’m not mad. Did he already leave?

Sloane: Yep. Don’t hate me.

Sliding my phone into my pocket, I start to haul ass toward campus.

This isn’t a sketchy town. It’s clean, and everything is lit up at night. I know I’ll be fine, making it back to my dorm safely. Now if only I could convince Cole of that.

I’m not even a quarter of the way home when I hear the roaring engine of a truck approaching. I already know it’s likely Cole. Once its headlights come into view and it begins to slow, I see that I’m right—it is him.

Thank you, Sloane and your big fucking mouth.

I don’t mean that. I know she didn’t intentionally throw me under the bus. How could she have known he’d go all caveman and shit? She doesn’t know how he is when it comes to me.

“Get in the truck, Ally,” Cole’s voice booms as his truck comes to a stop.

As always, he isn’t asking me; he’s telling me. Like I’m a goddamn child.

“Why are you here?” I call back to him. “Isn’t there some big party tonight to celebrate your win?”

Sloane texted earlier, letting me know they’d won.

“Shouldn’t the campus king be there, entertaining all of his admirers? Not here, stalking me, the poor peasant.”

“No interest in that, Cinderella,” his smooth voice purrs. “I told you I didn’t want you walking home alone, but once again, you have to be a pain in my fucking ass.”

“I don’t have a car, dumbass!” I shout at him.

“Quit being a bitch for five seconds of your life. You know you can always fucking call me. My number has never changed. Unlike some people’s.”

I don’t answer, just continue to watch him. Weighing my options to take off running or bow out gracefully.

“You going to get in or what?” He jerks his chin up.

The more I consider running, the more I realize that it would suck.

I’m tired, and I don’t have it in me. Besides, he’ll just act like a complete barbarian and chase after me. And he’s much faster than I could ever dream of being.

Pulling my hood up, I cross the road and climb in the truck. Never sparing him a glance.

On the short ride home, he doesn’t speak or even look at me. And I don’t say a peep either. He’s the one who wants to play Superman, always coming to my rescue, so he can do the talking.

I don’t have a damn clue what he wants from me or if he wants anything at all. All I know is, it’s hard to live my life as me when he’s trying to control me and take away every ounce of independence that I have.

I know he’s only doing it because he cares. Like he said, he doesn’t know any other way to be with me. I believe him when he says that. I don’t think he means to smother me. It’s just who he is.

Amy Lee’s voice flows through the speakers, singing the words to “Broken” by Seether. Somehow, I don’t think it’s playing just by coincidence. The words, the way their voices are so tortured and shattered—it’s exactly how I know he and I both felt every single day that we spent apart.

Without him is sort of like walking around in a world full of colors and only seeing black and white. Losing him numbed me to anything and everything good in this world.

Unable to help myself, the lyrics pour out of my mouth, under my breath. I try to keep my voice as quiet as possible. Singing is my outlet. The same goes for songwriting. Getting the words out, good or bad, it’s healing in a way.

Pulling in front of the dorm, he slams the truck in park.

“Thanks for the ride.” I jump out before he can respond.

I’m tired. And when I’m tired, I’m bitchy. I need to get to my room and be alone, by myself, where I can’t lash out and say rude things to anybody. Well, other than myself.

It’s only crazy if you answer yourself too. Right?

Cole doesn’t follow me, surprisingly enough. Maybe he’s learning about this thing called boundaries. Though I seriously doubt it. He probably just wants to get back to the party. Bitches to see, crowds to please.

Gross.

As I push the door open and step into my dorm, all I’m thinking about is how nice a can of cold Diet Coke and a huge-ass bag of Cheetos sound. Wild Saturday night. First things first though. I need to change into comfy pajamas.

I smile at the thought of what Carla would say. She’d tell me I was wasting a perfectly good Saturday night. But I’m tired. Working and classes are starting to wear on me. I need a night to regroup.

I’ve just changed into my pajamas when there’s a knock at the door. Knowing that Sloane is at a party and that Cole just dropped me off, I wonder who in the actual fuck is outside my door, my heartbeat speeding up slightly.

“Open up, Ally,” Cole’s deep voice says, answering my thoughts for me.

I contemplate not going to the door. Why should I let him in? He’ll probably get all up in my personal space, and I’ll momentarily want to dry-hump his leg like a dog in heat, all because he smells and looks so damn good.Then, I’ll be left feeling like an idiot, and he’ll probably still be wearing that cocky-ass grin on his hot-as-fuck face.

“Ally! Open the fucking door!” he growls. No doubt causing a scene in the hallway.

Such a prick.

Walking over, I swing it open. “What do you want, Storm? I’m tired.”

His eyes rake over my body, and suddenly, I remember, I’m wearing a white shirt and no bra. A tight white shirt.

Perfect.

Folding my arms over my chest, I scowl at him. “Seriously, why are you here? Did I walk from my mini fridge to my bed alone and you needed to come save the day?” I snort. “Save me from the big, bad wolf?”

Intense eyes burn into mine. “I am the wolf, sweetheart,” his rough voice says slowly. “Who will save you from me?”

His words make me shudder. Embarrassingly so too. Because he notices, and a devil-like smirk creeps onto his face.

I gulp. “Okay, wolf. A-woooooo.” I pretend to howl. “Why the fuck are you here? At my dorm. Right now, interrupting Netflix and Cheetos.”

“And Diet Coke?” he says, amused.

“Well, duh.”

Ignoring my previous question, he steps around me and comes inside. Uninvited.

“Excuse me! What in the hell are you doing, dipshit?” I curse at him. “This is my dorm! Not yours!”

Gazing around, he spins his ball cap backward, making himself even more annoyingly hot. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided something.”

“You … thinking?” I widen my eyes. “Sounds dangerous. How did your brain not explode?”

“I’ve decided, I’m done playing games, Ally,” he says, ignoring my banter.

“Well, you’re a football player, so games are sort of part of the job.”

“Okay, smart-ass, let me clarify. I’m done playing your games.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared. I’m just shaking over here, ’bout to piss my pants.”

Finally, he’s reached his limit for my need to beat around the bush. I can’t help it; that bush has monsters living in it, and it’s untamable. Once you start to pick it apart, everything comes out. Leaving you wishing you’d left it the hell alone.

Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with that bush.

“Enough deflecting,” he growls. “I want to know why the fuck you left Charlotte’s Falls. I’m not leaving till I know the answer.”

I know better than to think he’s bluffing. If Cole wants to know something, he’ll stop short of nothing to find his answer.

“I’m tired of going round and round about this. The universe played some sick fucking trick by landing us both here, in Georgia. But this campus is huge. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine,” I yell at him. I don’t mean the ridiculous words. But I am not ready to talk about the past.

In a split second, my ass is pushed up against the wall as Cole’s huge arms box me in at both sides. His eyes command me to look into them. Something I’ve tried to avoid since we reconnected.

“Look. At. Me,” he demands through gritted teeth.

I try, but the tears burn the backs of my eyes, threatening to come out. Tears I’ve worked so hard to keep inside. I’m not ready for them to spill out now. Then, he will win.

“Cole, please stop. I’m …” My voice breaks slightly. “I’m begging you.”

The tears fall—oh, do they fall. Tears that have been bottled up inside for far too long. But that’s what he can do to me—he has the ability to break me down, brick by brick.

Taking his hand, he tilts my chin up. “Please, Ally. Please look at me. I don’t know what I did or what I didn’t do. But I need you to look at me. Look at me like you used to.” His voice is much softer now.

I do as I was told. But it only makes the pain worse. “I am.”

“You’re not.” He flinches. “Not really anyway. Not like you did before.”

That’s because I was a different person then.

“I can’t. Please, Cole. Stop,” I plead.

His forehead leans against mine, and our hearts beat together as one. And I swear, it feels like the first time my heart has beat inside my chest since I left him.

“I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is, Ally,” he says, his voice filled with frustration. “Let me fucking fix it.”

Bending down, I sob into his chest. Something I haven’t allowed myself to do in months. Still, I can’t stop the tears from falling. “Don’t you get it, Cole?” I snap. “You can’t fix me this time.”

“Why not?!” He’s quiet for a moment. “Did something happen while I was away at football camp? Is that why you left?”

“No,” I lie, fiercely shaking my head.

Something did happen. Something pretty crappy. But it’s my secret to keep.

Cupping my cheeks with his hands, he forces my eyes to his. “You don’t have to lie, Ally. Not to me, not ever. I’ve got you. Always.”

“Do you now?” I say, pushing him away from me and ducking underneath his arm. “Because it hasn’t seemed like it. And to think, I’ve waited for you all this time. Not so much as sparing a glance at another guy.”

His hands grab my waist, turning me to face him again. “But you said—”

I know what he’s going to say—how I mentioned I’d seen way bigger dicks than his.

“I lied,” I admit, cutting him off. “I can be a bitch. We both know this.”

He eyes me cautiously. “You really haven’t been with anyone else?”

I look down for a second before back up at him. “No. Just you.” I laugh bitterly. “Wish you could say the same, playboy.”

Relief covers his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shakes his head. “I haven’t been with anyone else either, Al.”

“Wait, what? What about the girl at the—”

He grimaces. “I wanted to hurt you. So, I took her in the restroom. I even told her why I was doing it.”

I’m confused and a little irritated that he lied. But mostly, I’m just relieved. We were each other’s first. I thought we would be each other’s only. When I thought he had been with that girl, well, it felt like everything was ruined.

“So, you did nothing with her? Nothing at all?” I question him.

He shakes his head once. “Nothing.”

“No blow job? She didn’t touch your dick? You didn’t finger her or—”

“Ally, Jesus, no. Nothing means nothing. She knew I was using her to piss you off. She tried to talk me into fucking her when we got into the restroom. I said no. That was that.”

“Okay then …” I say awkwardly.

His lips form a grin. “I know one thing though.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“You just admitted you can be a bitch. At least we can agree on that.” He tries to keep a straight face.

I roll my eyes and flick him off. “Oh, fuck right off. You can be a dick too.” I pause. “No, you are always a dick.”

“Yeah, right. I might be a dick sometimes, but we both know I made you happy.” He rolls his tongue over his bottom lip. “Really fucking happy.”

My insides tingle at his words. We certainly did know how to make each other happy and how to take the pain away momentarily. They can say sex isn’t a good coping mechanism, but I beg to differ. Cole showed his love in so many ways while we were intimate. It was never just about the sex. It was about experiencing something with somebody you loved. Somebody you trusted.

His voice breaks me from my thoughts. “All joking aside, I know I can be a dick. But you and I both know we needed to have that toughness inside of us. Without it, we never would have survived this life.”

I smile sadly, my shoulders slouching. “I’m barely surviving now,” I admit.

“Everyone is barely surviving,” he says quietly. “All everyone is trying to do is just survive. That’s life.”

Finally looking him right in the eyes, I gaze into his stormy-blue color. “Cole?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m tired of just surviving.”

Pulling me to his chest, he kisses the top of my head. “I know you are. Just hang in there a little longer, angel. I’ll be in the NFL, and you’ll be one of the country’s most famous singer-slash-songwriters.”

“I hope so.” I just don’t know if you’ll be next to me.

It isn’t about the fame for me. Not in the way it is for Cole anyway.

He’d never say it out loud, but he wants his name known because he wants his mother and all the others who left him to realize how much they missed out on. I know that’s a huge part of his need to be the best.

For me, I just want to help other people who feel the same way I do. Or who hurt the way I’ve hurt. Music has saved my life time and time again. The lyrics quiet my mind, reminding me that I’m not alone in the struggles I’ve had and that I’m not the only one whose been dealt a shitty hand. I want to write a song expressing all of the pain that lives inside of my soul. Buried so deep that I’m not sure I’ll ever fully cleanse myself of it. And truthfully, if one person listens to those words and they realize they aren’t alone, well, then I will have done what I set out to do.

“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk to me.” His deep voice vibrates against my ear.

“Okay,” I croak out. Knowing his words to be true.

No matter what, I know this boy—no, this man will always be here for me.

“You should get going. It’s late,” I say softly.

I’m tired, and as much love as I have for this man, I’m not ready to be with someone I have to share with the entire campus. It feels so different.

“Yeah, I guess I probably should,” he says, but his eyes move to my lips, and he shows no sign of leaving.

I can tell he wants to kiss me. And I don’t think I’d even try to stop him if he did.

Reaching out, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before gliding his thumb down my cheek. Stopping at my mouth, he rubs the pad of it against my lips. His touch causes a shiver to run down my body.

“Cole,” I moan, succumbing to him like an ice cube being melted by the sun.

“Ally,” his voice rasps.

Dipping his head down, he slowly runs his lips up my neck, breathing me in. Before finally pressing them to my own.

It’s been too long since I’ve felt the softness of his lips against mine. How they fit perfectly with mine. Almost like they were made just for me to kiss. Somehow, it feels that way.

Greedily, my mouth opens, welcoming him inside.

His tongue slips into my mouth, and shit, I feel dizzy. I’ve missed him so much. So fucking much.

I know I haven’t given him jack shit when it comes to information about me or where I’ve been all this time. And yeah, I suppose I have been a bit hard on him as well. I’d say something like, I can’t help it; it’s just the way I am, or shit like that, but those would just be excuses.

So, maybe I don’t deserve this from him right now. But I’m going to take it anyway. Because I need him. And I think he needs metoo. He’s the only one who can make me feel something, anything, even if only for just a short time.

I might not be ready to give him what he needs from me. But I am sure about one thing: I need him inside of me.

Right now.