Chapter 12 – It's A Man's World.
Cole was sat in the kitchen of Steffi's apartment having a slice of toast and enjoying the silence. The peace relaxed him, and he sighed contentedly. The autumn was drawing slowly into winter, his favourite season, and soon it would be Steffi's birthday – she would be 19. The thought sobered him – she really was almost a century younger than him, and it was wrong for him to expect her to stay with him. Even if he wanted her to. There would be a party, he knew; a night of drunken demonic debauchery, with Steffi taking centre stage. He could see her now: in her tightest top, her shortest skirt and her highest heels – she' look stunning. Everyone would want her… and Cole wasn't sure if he liked that idea.
It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't seen Steffi all morning. She hadn't been there when he'd got up at 7 o'clock, and it was now half past 11. What could she be doing which could take up four and a half hours? He shrugged, and took a bite out of his toast, pondering whether to put another slice in the toaster. The kettle whistled suddenly, breaking through to his conscious mind. He got up and made himself the cup of coffee he had been looking forward to all morning, rooting through Steffi's cupboards for the sugar. Her cupboards were, as usual, empty; except for the odd tin of beans of the occasional packet of pasta. Cole had come to the conclusion that Steffi lived on a diet of sex, booze and cigarettes – he rarely, if ever, saw her eat; if he did it was because he'd taken her out for dinner, and even then she never finished a course. He found the sugar and moved to the fridge. Grabbing the milk carton, he saw a small Post-It note stuck on the fridge door, hidden amongst various postcards, shopping lists and to-do lists. The note read:
"I've gone for a walk. Laters honey, Steffi xxx.' Cole sighed and poured the milk into his coffee, after checking it was fresh. The note left no indication of what time she'd left or when she'd be back, so what was the point in writing it? He sipped his coffee and wandered into the living room.
She'd tidied the room since his first visit, and much of the room had changed. It had gone from a dark, dreary room to a chic and sophisticated living space. Cole admired the colour scheme Steffi had opted for when she redecorated as he sat down on the chocolate brown sofa – her choice of cream and brown certainly made the room look more inviting.
The day's paper lay on the coffee table, and Cole thumbed through it whilst enjoying his coffee. Half way through an interesting article about house prices in the Bay area, the toaster threw his second piece of toast into the air. As he went to collect it, his thoughts strayed to Phoebe. She'd looked so beautiful yesterday, her hair wispy in the moist air; and again he wondered how he had let her go. A wave of nostalgia hit him, carrying him from the moment they met to the very last second before she vanquished him, and he realised something; even though Steffi meant everything and more to him, his feelings for Phoebe were still at the very core of his existence. He still missed her like he had when she first left him all those years ago, and the longing for her still drove him somewhere inside his subconscious. Whenever he saw Steffi, he felt a physical longing for her, and a lot of love. When he saw Phoebe, his heart ached and his body yearned to touch her once more, to feel the silkiness of her hair and to kiss her soft lips. He looked at the toast and left it on the side for Steffi to nibble on when she got home.
Back in the living room, he slumped onto the couch and resumed scanning the paper. He was reading 'Ask Phoebe' and feeling a familiar sense of longing for her, when he heard a key in the lock. Th door opened, and a large pile of brown paper bags came through the door, with the top of Steffi's blonde head just visible. She put them on the floor, ran a hand through her soft hair and said,
"Hey, baby! What've you been up to?"
"Just thinking."
A/N and Disclaimer: I don't own Cole Turner, Phoebe Halliwell, 'The Bay Mirror', 'Ask Phoebe' or anything like that. But Steffi's mine, so I can sleep easy.
Cole you bad, bad boy you. Thinking of Phoebe when you quite clearly love Steffi… tch, it's disgraceful. I was in fact shaking my head as I wrote those 752 sinful words that we call his mind. Tut-tut, Mr Turner. I should probably stop talking to myself…typing to myself…shut up!
