Chapter 7
Cora POV:
My mind went blank. This was it. The moment I had dreamt of countless nights. My first kiss with Cole. It was real.
But then his hand, rough and urgent, moved to my breast. I gasped, a jolt of alarm shooting through me. I pushed against him, my body recoiling.
"Cole, stop!" I whispered, but his kisses grew more insistent, his hold on me tightening.
"Isabela," he mumbled, his voice thick with drunken longing. "Isabela..."
The word struck me like a lightning bolt. My heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest. He thought I was her. He was kissing me, touching me, but he was calling out her name.
He scooped me up, carrying me effortlessly, and shoved open my bedroom door. He threw me onto my bed, his body following, pressing me down.
The shock, the betrayal, jolted me fully awake. "No!" I screamed, a raw, desperate sound. "Cole, it's not Isabela! It's me, Cora!"
He froze. His eyes, still bleary with alcohol, slowly focused on my face. The recognition, the horror, dawned on him. He pulled back slightly, then wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, but making no other move.
"Cole, what are you doing?" I tried to wriggle free.
"Don't go," he mumbled, his voice hoarse, his eyes closed.
Is he talking to me? Or to the Isabela he thinks I am? My head throbbed. I felt his heavy breathing against my neck. His grip was too strong. I was trapped. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, finally overwhelmed me. I passed out.
The morning light streamed through my window. I woke to find Cole standing over me, his face a mask of complex emotions. Disgust? Anger? Shame?
"What are you doing in my bed, Cora?" His voice was cold, accusing.
My cheeks flushed crimson. I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off.
"If this ever happens again," he spat, his voice laced with a bitter disappointment that felt like a whip cracking across my soul, "you will move into the dorms permanently. Do you understand?"
I swallowed, the words of explanation dying in my throat. What was the point? He wouldn't believe me anyway. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
It doesn't matter anyway. I thought. In a few days, I'll be in New York. I'll be out of his life forever.
I pushed myself up, my clothes rumpled, my body aching. I walked past him, my head held high, and reached for the doorknob. Just as I opened it, Isabela was standing there, her hand raised to knock.
Her eyes widened, fixing on my disheveled state, then on Cole, who stood silently behind me. "Cora? What are you doing coming out of Cole's room?" Her voice was sharp, accusatory.
My face went ashen. I avoided her gaze, slipping past her and into my own room. She followed, her eyes like daggers.
"What did you do, Cora?" Her voice was low and dangerous. "Did you take advantage of him while he was drunk? Did you try to climb into his bed?"
I kept my head down. Any explanation would sound like a flimsy excuse, a desperate plea.
"Don't deny it," she hissed. "If you ever try anything like that again, I'll make sure you leave this house for good. You'll regret it." She slammed my door shut, the sound rattling the very foundations of my composure.
I slid down the wall, my legs giving out. Every muscle in my body felt drained, as if all my strength had been sucked out of me. Cole's harsh words, Isabela's venomous accusations-they tightened around my heart like an invisible fist. Tears streamed down my face, silent sobs wracking my body. I clamped my hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle the sounds of my anguish.
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