Coming Up for Air (cole caufield x oc)

BONUS CHAPTER 1

(SPOILERS CONTAINED IN THIS INTRO)

hi lovelies! as promised (forever ago), here is the first of the bonus chapters which focuses on Tate and Josh. for context, this chapter falls between chapters twenty-seven and twenty-eight, the night that Brady and Josh arrive at the Tampa club to help Freya get away from Dalton. hope y'all enjoy :)

∆ Tate ∆

Once she was confident that Freya was asleep, Tate got up slowly from the bed. Riley, in the other bed, stirred but did not wake. It was three in the morning by then, and the drinks had all but worn off, though they left a stinging headache in their place. Yawning, Tate tip-toed to the door, hoping that the little gas station across the street from the hotel was still open: she needed a bottle of water and some Advil like she needed air to survive. 

As she stepped out into the hallway, blinking the fluorescent from her gaze, a voice emerged from her left.

"Oh, hey," a man greeted.

Tate squinted up at him as he approached—it was Josh, Cole's friend that had driven the girls away from the club just an hour and a half earlier.

"Hey," Tate replied, voice weak. "Josh, right?"

He nodded and asked, "Tate?"

Tate sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. The plan had been to return to the hotel she and Riley had been staying at after their night out—which meant she had no clothes besides the outfit she'd worn to the club. Only then did she fully remember how exposed she was in the bright light of the hotel hallway.

Josh, fortunately, kept his gaze on hers, almost like he hadn't noticed what she was wearing at all. "How are you guys doing?" he asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. His expression was soft, tone unhurried. For a moment, Tate was so distracted by the way Josh's big blue eyes flickered in the light that she hardly heard him say anything at all.

After a moment, she shook it off and responded, "Um—we're—Frey's okay." Tate shrugged and glanced down at her bare feet. She'd stripped her heels off the moment they'd arrived at the hotel, which she realized now might be a problem if she was planning to walk across the street to the gas station.

"And you?" Josh piped up, which drew Tate's eyes back up from the floor.

"Hm?" she hummed, blinking up at him.

"Are you okay?" he clarified. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and for a second it almost seemed to Tate like he was nervous. Already he'd spoken more words than the entire car ride back from the club: Tate couldn't help noticing the little midwestern tinge in his voice—it was the same way her cousins from Michigan talked.

"Yeah," she sighed after a moment, forcing a smile. "Just a long night."

At this, Josh nodded his understanding. "Were you going somewhere?" He gestured over his shoulder before almost immediately correcting, "Not that it's any of business. I didn't mean it like—" He stopped and shook his head. "Sorry. I just meant to ask if there's something I could grab for you or do for you guys."

Tate couldn't fight back the grin that snuck its way onto her face. There was something so sweet and genuine about the way Josh looked at her then, timid but assured. Tate glanced away, hoping that he wouldn't notice the heat that rushed over her cheeks as she replied, "No, I was just gonna go grab something from the gas station across the street."

The words prompted Josh's gaze to drop down to Tate's bare feet. When he glanced back up at her he suggested, "Let me go get it for you."

Tate waved him away with her hand. "It's no worries, seriously," she assured him, but Josh didn't move. He just raised his eyebrows at her, which silenced Tate for several long moments. "I'm okay," she tried.

It was more a lie than she would ever let on to a man she'd only just met. The truth was that her whole body ached and her chest was tight with anxiety. She'd felt so much fear, screamed so desperately for her best friend, and cried so hard that the world felt like it was on fire. Only she didn't feel like she had any right to be hurting—not when Freya experienced everything that she did.

Still, Josh appeared unconvinced. Perhaps as some attempt to compromise he asked, "Could I walk over to the gas station with you at least?"

Tate chewed on her lip a moment, but ultimately offered Josh a nod of approval. "Yeah," she murmured, "that would be good."

With this, she started down the hall in the direction of the elevators. Josh, his hands still buried in his pockets, didn't speak until he was reaching for the button outside the doors. "Here," he began, and he unzipped his jacket, which was adorned with the logo of his hockey team. "Wear this." He held it up to her, just as the elevator doors slid open.

"Oh," Tate hummed, a little surprised. "Thank—thanks." She didn't even have time to lift her hand and take it before Josh had slipped it delicately over her bare shoulders. He motioned for her to go first into the elevator, at which point she nodded her gratitude and obeyed. As they began their descent to the lobby, Tate faced the floor and remarked, "You're very quiet."

It clearly caught Josh off-guard: his eyes widened a little, and he blinked up at Tate. "Right, sorry," he hurried, which made Tate feel guilty. Josh added, "I grew up in Germany, so my mom was always making me speak German to practice, then when we came back to America, I just—got quiet."

The elevator doors opened again, this time to the lobby, which was silent save for a television that was eyed carefully by the receptionist at the counter. Tate, with a smile, noted to Josh, "Maybe I should start talking in French more—if that would help me do better in Montreal."

"It took eleven years," Josh chuckled, "but it made me fluent, so I have to give her credit." As they approached the exit, Josh stopped and turned on his heels to face Tate more fully. Without looking down, he gestured towards the floor. "You can't walk out there with no shoes," he concluded.

Tate waved him away nonchalantly and started to make a move for the door, but Josh's hand came down in front of her, blocking her path. "Seriously?" she snapped as she crossed her arms over her chest. Josh's sweatshirt was warm against her skin, and the comfort of it quelled the little annoyance in the back of her throat. "I don't feel like going all the way back upstairs for my heels," she moaned.

Josh dropped his arm back to his side and suggested, "Just tell me what you need—I'll get it."

"I'm not letting you buy me stuff," Tate countered without hesitation. "You don't even know me."

At this, Josh rolled his eyes. "What—you planning on buying the whole store?" he teased. "I don't mind, really."

With a groan, Tate turned to look at the dark parking lot outside the doors. The rain was coming down—as it almost always was in Tampa—but she could make out the illuminated silhouette of the gas station across the street. When she faced Josh again, he was looking at her expectantly. 

"Let me get on your back," Tate instructed after a moment. When she said it, Josh's cheeks flushed with color, which made Tate smile. "Or," she continued, "I can walk right out there barefoot. Your call."