Purity: A Friends-to-Lovers College Romance

MY PULSE STARTS to pound as I read her text, and a prickle of foreboding runs down my spine.

“Huge news”? And not just huge, but “huge” in all caps. What could that possibly be?

This is nothing to worry about. Livvy is thoughtful and sensitive. Often, things that are huge to her are minor to me. She may have had a conversation with a friend that inspired her, or she pushed through her shyness and spoke up more in class.

She has been different these past few weeks in a way I can’t quite pinpoint. I’ve been so busy finishing my last quarter of college, I haven’t seen her nearly as much as I usually do, but in our brief interactions, I’ve sensed a change.

Oh God. Please say she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Please say she hasn’t met some upright Christian guy that she wants to tell me all about. What if she brings someone to the party tonight to introduce us?

I’ve always known that once she gets a boyfriend, our relationship will change. Not that she would abandon our friendship. She’s too good a person—too steady and strong in her principles—to do that, even if her boyfriend was a jealous prick. But she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

Her deepest loyalty would be to him.

Fuck, I hate him already.

“What’s wrong?”

I jerk up from my phone to see my mom walking down the pathway from the main house. A breeze brushes over my face, cooling my hot cheeks, and reality settles over me. It’s stupid to let myself get so worked up when I don’t even know what Livvy has to tell me.

I smile at my mom as she sits down on the porch chair across from mine. “Zac just told me he got a keg of Coors Light,” I say, “and I told him to get Stone IPA. I refuse to drink cheap beer now that I’m a college graduate.”

She sets her hands primly on her lap. “Well, I don’t want any cheap or expensive beer on my carpet, so make sure you keep everyone outside tonight. And if anyone needs to crash, they’re sleeping in the guesthouse with you. I don’t care if you have a lady friend overnight and want privacy.

No one is sleeping in the main house this time.” She clenches her jaw. “I had to replace the whole living room carpet after your party last summer.”

I pretend to wince. “I’ve actually already told everyone to crash in your knitting room if they get too drunk. The couches are way more comfortable there, and those yarn-bowl things will be perfect if they have to puke.”

My mom smiles, rolling her eyes. “If there’s even the faintest scent of vomit in my knitting room, you’re starting your apartment hunt tomorrow.” As if a sudden thought occurs to her, her smile fades, and her dark brows draw together. “Honey, I do have to talk to you about something. I wish I could save it until after all of your graduation festivities are over, but it can’t wait. I’ve already waited too long to tell you.”

“Okay.” I can’t keep the apprehension out of my voice.

She opens her mouth and closes it. “I asked your dad for a divorce last week.”

The words hit me like a meteor. My pulse starts to pound in my throat. I push myself up from my seat and walk to the edge of the patio. The outer edge of my vision blurs for a moment.

Why am I so surprised when I’ve been waiting for this? My dad has been an utter shit husband for as long as I can remember, and it’s not like it’s going to affect me much. I only plan to live in the guesthouse until I find my own place.

What is this strange tingling over my skin? Why do I feel like I’m being swept back in time to that horrible night when I walked in on my dad with that woman, and the whole world shifted?

“Your dad didn’t take it well.” Her words come in as if from a distance. “I’m not sure if he even fully accepts that I’m going to do it. I asked him to move out as soon as he can, but he looks like he’s going to drag his feet.”

Finally coming back to myself, I huff. “That sounds about right, since he treats you like your whole life revolves around his.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but he’s having a hard time. I think getting a divorce lawyer will be a good reality check for him. I’m planning on starting my search tomorrow.”

I turn around to face her. “Mom.” I try to say the word firmly, but my voice quivers. I clear my throat to keep it from shaking. “Let me find you a good divorce lawyer. That’s going to be crucial. I’ll start looking—”

“Absolutely not. I’m not letting my son find a divorce lawyer for me. That’s not why I told you. I wanted you to have time to process it all before you start at Walker Industries—”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll feel better if you let me take care of this. Zac’s dad is a lawyer, and he knows all the best lawyers in Santa Barbara—”

“No, Cole.” She stares at me for a moment before her hard expression softens. “I love that you’re looking out for me, but I need to navigate this process myself. If I’m going to live on my own and take care of myself without your dad’s help, this is where it starts.”

I want to protest, but I only nod. I know that she’s right, but it doesn’t stop this itching anxiety crawling over my skin. She may not find the right lawyer. The fact that she hasn’t even started looking for one attests to that, especially since she asked my dad for a divorce a week ago. She’s so vulnerable after years of having all of her basic needs taken care of by him. That’s probably why she stayed with him, even after years and years of heartache.

“Okay, just make sure you find someone ruthless. Someone who will take him for all he’s got.”

Her posture straightens. “Well, since that would affect the company, and therefore you and your brother and sister, I won’t be doing that.”

Of course she won’t. She’s made it abundantly clear to me over the years how important it is to her that I take over Walker Industries someday, and given what she’s had to put up with from my dad, it’s the least I can do for her. Even though I dread having to work for him.

“Marriages are complicated,” she says. “Divorce is never just one person’s fault.”

I look away, my jaw clenching. Arguing with her will lead to a conversation I don’t want to have

—to something she and I have only really discussed in code. The one time I tried to tell her the details of my dad’s infidelity, she didn’t want to hear it. She said she already knew.

God, how fucking sad.

I wish she knew her value. I wish she knew that she deserves to clean him out for everything he’s worth after what he’s put her through.

“Honey.”

When I glance up, my mom’s brows are furrowed. “Do you want to talk about what you’re feeling? I can tell that you’re really upset.”

“I’m fine.” The words are clipped.

“Okay.” Her voice is resigned. “I’ll give you your privacy. Don’t worry about setting up for the party. I already enlisted Mason to put out more lawn furniture. He doesn’t know anything yet about the divorce. I’m still trying to figure out how to tell him and Maddy. But I want you to take some time to yourself, okay? Relax before your party.”

I swallow to ease the tightness in my throat. “I’m honestly fine, Mom. It’s a long time coming, and I’m happy for you.”

She stares at me for a moment. “Well, if you’re ever not fine, just know you can talk to me about it.”

She walks away, and the world around me blurs. It’s really happening. They’re divorcing, and the world is shifting under my feet, just like it did years ago. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be strong for my mom?

Fuck, there’s only one person who can make me feel anchored again.

I’ll tell Livvy the whole story, just like I always do when something is troubling me. She’ll stare at me with those soft brown eyes and that little furrow on her brow. She’ll say, “Oh Cole, I’m so sorry,” in that sweet, melodic voice and shyly ask if it would weird me out if she prayed for me. I’ll fight a smile and tell her no, that just because I’m not religious doesn’t mean I’m ruling out the possibility that God exists.

She’ll set her hand on my shoulder, which will send electricity down my arm. She’ll close her eyes and mouth words to herself—careful not to say them aloud because she probably doesn’t want to scare me with the strange jargon. And I’ll just watch her, relishing her closeness and warmth, absorbing all of her compassion and kindness by proximity.

In a perfect world, I could hold her afterward—pull her into my arms and press her soft body against mine. I’d trail my lips along her neck before taking a little bite of her pretty skin. Then I’d bury myself inside her and—

Fuck.

What am I doing?

The divorce must be throwing me off-kilter. These old fantasies only seem to surface when I’m at my most vulnerable. No matter how much they might provide a balm to my shitty mood, I can’t indulge them. I’ll never have that part of her, and even if I could, I wouldn’t want it. What I have with her is already perfect as it is.

Passion always fades eventually, but my friendship with Livvy is lifelong. I won’t do anything to jeopardize it.

I’ll want to kill any boyfriend she introduces me to, if that’s what she’s going to do tonight—

mostly out of jealousy—but I’ll have to keep any animosity under the surface. She can never know.

This lingering attraction to her has never done me any good. I have to keep it in check.