“Oh, I know,” he says.
“Then you know I didn’t.” I cross my arms. He stares at me, waiting, and I sigh. “With such a vast area for you to hide in, it seemed logical that most people would fan out in front of home base. I thought ifIwere hiding, I’d stay along the edge because it seems like the least likely place for people to look. With the boundary line being right here, it gives people less space to cover and therefore, a slimmer chance of finding someone.”
“Smart,” Cooper says, impressed.
“A little bit of logic. A lot of luck.” I shrug. “Plus, most people had their flashlights pointed up into the trees, but I knew you wouldn’t be in one because you’re afraid of heights.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are,” I say, cutting him off. “You refused to sit onAunt Naomi’s roof to watch fireworks with me on the Fourth of July that summer.”
He steps closer and smiles. “You couldn’t have just forgotten that little detail, huh?”
“Never.” I try to smile. I try to turn away and head back to home base. It’s the smart thing to do. But he’ssoclose, looking at me with those eyes that steal the air from my lungs, and suddenly I can’t put one foot in front of the other. I can’t fathom walking away even if I could.
And concealed in the darkness of the woods, with his tousled hair blowing softly in the breeze, I can’t imagine not saying exactly what I’m thinking in this moment.
“I rememberallyour details, Cooper Barnett,” I whisper. “They’re my favorite thing to memorize.”
Cooper’s eyes widen. I step toward him, and his sharp intake of breath seems to echo through the silence.
The air between us is thick and heavy and charged.
“Earlier, at the end of the race,” I say nervously, “were you… were you going to kiss me?”
In the distance, someone calls Cooper’s name. Everyone’s waiting on him—on us—but I started this, and I need to know how it ends.
His voice is raspy and quiet when he replies. “I shouldn’t… It doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe it does,” I say. “Tell me.”
“But Jake…” He shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”
“What about him?” I ask, confused.
“He likes you.”
“Okay, but I don’t likehim.”
“You haven’t made that particularly clear,” he says.
“Actually, I have. I pretty explicitly told him we’re just friends.”
He frowns. “Well, he’s still holding on to hope.”
A beat of silence passes between us.
“Just tell me, Coop,” I whisper.
He sighs and throws his hood up, as if he’s trying to hide from me. “All right, fine. Maybe I was thinking about kissing you. But I shouldn’t have been.”
I open my mouth, then close it, unsure how to respond even though I asked for the answer. He looks as if he’s organizing his thoughts before he looks at the ground and continues.
“When I told you I was hurt because you stopped talking to me after you went back to New York, that was the truth. But it wasn’t that simple.” He presses his lips together, like he’s warring with himself over saying more, and my pulse quickens. “I know we were young, but I fell for you that summer.” His eyes raise to mine. “You were the first and only girl who’s ever broken my heart.”
The woods suddenly seem darker, quieter. “What?” I breathe.
“I fell for this gorgeous, funny, laid-back girl who always wanted to try new things, and you made me feel like I could do anything.Beanything. But also like I didn’tneedto be anything other than who I was. I always felt like the best version of myself when I was around you. And then you were gone, and I was devastated.”
