The Color of Café au Lait

By Laney Smith

Cole Dawson asked me to marry him when we were eight years old. He drove a nail halfway through his left hand, just to show me how much he loved me. That was many moons ago. Now, we're coming up on our ten-year high school reunion and the Cole Dawson I knew has changed - a lot. He went from being a small-town boy with a little scar in the center of his left hand. to this wild, hellraising rock star. Celebrity status. Famous! Now, he's wanting to catch up before the reunion and I'm star-struck. I know it's silly. We were just eight years old when he claimed me as his wife. Maybe I should have held on to him back then. And, just maybe I still can!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fiery Vision Publishing
• Release date: Sep 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201896515

Book preview

Cole Dawson asked me to marry him when we were eight years old. He drove a nail halfway through his left hand, just to show me how much he loved me. That was many moons ago. Now, we’re coming up on our ten-year high school reunion and the Cole Dawson I knew has changed - a lot. He went from being a small-town boy with a little scar in the center of his left hand. to this wild, hellraising rock star. Celebrity status. Famous! Now, he’s wanting to catch up before the reunion and I’m star-struck. I know it’s silly. We were just eight years old when he claimed me as his wife. Maybe I should have held on to him back then. And, just maybe I still can!

~ONE~

We grew up together, Cole Dawson and me. We were just kids, back then, maybe seven or eight years old. His deep blue shimmering eyes stared into mine and he said, Polly Hawk, I’m going to marry you.

At the time, I laughed and rolled my eyes. You’re stupid, Cole Dawson. All boys are stupid. That’s why I’m never getting married, I returned.

You would’ve thought I had taken his heart out of his chest, right then and there, with my tiny little fingers. He looked sad and hung his head. "Well, what do I have to do so you will marry me?" he pouted.

There are three rules. First of all, you have to give me whatever I want, always. Even if you have only one piece of candy, if I want it, you have to give it to me.

His eyes darted around as he considered what I had said. He slowly started bobbing his head. OK. I don’t like candy very much, anyway.

I felt a devious grin pull at my lips. Next rule, you are my slave, and you can only love me, forever and always. Just me. No other girls.

His face twisted a little and his head tilted. So! I don’t like other girls. What else?

I stared him in the eye as though I had some sort of experience under my belt, You can never lie to me. No matter what, you always have to tell me the truth, I said with a sass as I planted my hands on my hips.

One of his eyebrows raised as he smiled. OK. But that means you have to marry me if I say I agree with these rules.

I scoffed, fighting a smile as I shook my head. No, it doesn’t. He started toward me and gripped a fistful of my shirt as his eyes locked on mine. Uh-huh, he softly said as he nodded.

And, we have to kiss, too. I busted out laughing. I am not going to kiss you, Cole Dawson. Yuck!

His face slowly faded to expressionless. Please. Just one time. If you just do it one time, then you are my wife for always. I won’t even make you do it anymore. Just one time, you have to. That’s all.

I refused. At least at that point in time.

For a few weeks, I made Cole do all kinds of stupid things, with the promise of a kiss if he did them. I made him pinky swear he loved me. Instead of ’blood brothers’ or whatever that was called, I told him we had to seal the deal with blood. His blood. Not mine. I was deathly allergic to pain. So, he had to drive a nail through his hand, and we had to shake, his bloody, injured hand to my uninjured hand. His blood on my hand was his promise that he agreed with all three of my rules. The fool actually did it! Well, halfway, anyway. I’ll admit, I had fun making him do stupid shit to prove his love for me. I took things from him, some of his most prized possessions, with a reminder of the rules. I made him do everything for me. Then, one day, he had enough of my games, and he got really angry.

Just forget it, he spouted, after one of my typical, dangerous challenges. I don’t think I love you anymore, anyway. I don’t want a stupid kiss.

I was about to lose my puppet and that broke my heart. I liked having a slave. I had to keep him hanging on. So, I went over to him, and I planted a big, fat lip smacker right on his lips. His eyes widened, his face lit up, and he was grinning from ear-to-ear. He pumped his fist.

Yes! Now, you are my wife. Now that means we are married.

No, we’re not, I countered. It was just a pretend kiss. That wasn’t the kiss to marry you. That was a practice one.

No take backs, he taunted. You have to be married to me because you said. You kissed me so now you have to be married to me. He threw his arms up in the air, running around and jumping like a freak as he chanted. You kissed me! You kissed me!

After that, I tried to avoid Cole Dawson. I played with other kids in the neighborhood and when Cole would come to join us, I would leave. He told everybody that I kissed him and that we were married. I was so disgusted. I accused him of lying. I told all of our friends he was making the whole thing up.

We went all the way through school, living four houses away from each other. We both watched the other grow up. Over the years, we’d talk, here and there. Every now and then, he’d remind me of the day I kissed him. Then, we’d laugh, because come to find out, when he was little, he really thought that was how people became married. That little boy took that silly kiss so much more seriously than I had ever understood.

The days moved on, however. We kept growing, maturing. In high school, a few guys were picking on me. Cole came and ‘saved me’ from them. He was in line behind me at the fast-food place, across the street from our high school. One day, I was eighty-something cents short. Thankfully, Cole was in line behind me. As I frantically searched the bottom of my backpack, looking for the change, Cole stepped up and slapped the money on the counter. The day my car had a flat in the school parking lot, Cole and his friends came and changed the tire for me. There were a billion instances in my school career where he wasn’t there for me. Now, I’m recalling the times he was there for a good reason.

We were coming up on our ten-year high school reunion. Cole reached out to me through social media to see if I was going. First, his profile photo was a dark image of some laser light show, rather than his actual photo. I saw the name and knew who it was before I ever read the message. That didn’t stop Cole from walking me through our childhood, to remind me of who he was. Then, he said that he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it to the reunion, that he was just trying to get a feel for who was going to help him decide if it was worth the trip back home.

Trip back home?

It was in that moment that I realized after we graduated high school, I went on to college and I