I think it’s my turn to thank him again, but I’m starting to get lost in his spiced sandalwood cologne. This may be the longest I’ve ever been hugged, and I can’t seem to find the motivation to end it.
That is, until I hear the key jiggle in the lock. I back up from Coop just in time to see Juliet and Nate open the door.
Juliet’s eyes fly between us. “Well, well, well,” she says, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse eating forbidden cheese.
Not forbidden. Just cheese. Regular, old, totally normal cheese.
“Hey,” Coop says. “You must be Juliet and Nate. I’m Coop.”
“Good to meet you,” Juliet says, sprinkling innuendo in my face like its flour.
Coop drops his eyes to Juliet’s gray sweatshirt—it has a calico cat sitting in a stocking, and on it is written the words, “The stockings were hung by the chimney with cats.”
Coop’s eyes alight. “That is the best sweater I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. “It’s almost enough to convince me to wear Christmas sweaters. They don’t sell it anymore.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Nate says wryly.
But Juliet has triumph written all over her face. “Told you. Best sweatshirt ever!”
Nate chuckles at his fiancée and then shakes Coop’s hand and they exchange pleasantries.
“Are you just leaving?” Nate asks.
Coop gives me a regretful look that makes me lean forward on my toes toward him. “Yeah, I have to be up early for rehab.”
“Coop!” I tsk. “I forgot about your elbow. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have had you rolling all that dough.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Juliet asks.
“Come on, Jules,” Nate says with a laugh. He pushes her into the apartment, giving Coop and me a semblance of privacy. “It’s nice to meet you, Cooper. It’s snowing, so be careful on your drive home.”
Coop thanks Nate, who joins Juliet on the couch, and then he smiles at me. The Christmas tree lights reflect in his brown eyes, dozens of points of light twinkling as he looks at me. “My elbow was fine. I would tell you if it was acting up.”
“Do you promise?” I ask, which is silly, because we’re just friends. With feelings. Friends with feelings. Which is nothing like friends with benefits.
“Of course. I’ll always be honest with you.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you hiding the fact that you’re in pain because you’re worried aboutmyfeelings.”
He rubs my shoulders over my hoodie. His hoodie. That I won fair and square.
“You’re a tough cookie. I don’t need to wear kid gloves around you, Liesel. I know you can handle the truth, however hard it is.”
My lips curve up softly. His words are so simple, but they pertain to some of my most core values—honesty, trust, even empowering. If Coop is really promising to be honest, he’s putting confidence in my ability to not only handle truth but manage it. I may have been my family’s admin and my mom’s backup caretaker for years, but I never feel like I can make decisions without their blessing.
Coop is saying the opposite. He’ll challenge me, but he’ll trust me, too. The meaning of his words pours into my chest, as warm and comforting as hot cider on a cold day. “Good.”
“In the name of honesty, though,” he whispers, “I should tell you that I really want to kiss you goodnight.”
I breathe out. “I don’t think my dad or Doug would be okay with that.”
“I don’t think I askedtheirpermission.”
My insides bubble with excitement. I want to kiss Coop more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. In three weeks, we’ve gone from nemeses to friends to … more.
So much more.
