“Fine. Ilikeyou, Cooper Carmichael.”
“Was that too hard?”
Sutton looks annoyed. She exhales through her nose, all dragon-like. “No,” she relents. “But you could say something back besides taunting me. I was trying to be all cute and romantic showing up here.”
I reach forward to tuck a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Very romantic, but you aren’t cute. You’re beautiful, Sutton. Always have been, and always will be to me. I like you, too, by the way.” My hand trails down her jaw. “Have for a really long time,” I say quietly, not sure if she heard me. Not sure if I want her to have heard me. “And I should have told you sooner.”
“I’m here now.” She steals a kiss. “Guess I have some catching up to do.”
“No you don’t.” This is the part in her books where the boy tells her he’s loved her enough for the both of them, and maybe I have. I could tell her that, but I don’t want her feeling like she’s behind with us, because she isn’t. We are exactly where we are supposed to be, and I tell her so. “Buuuuuttttt…I can think of some other ways we can make up for it.”
THIRTY-FIVE
COOPER
Sutton hasno willpower when it comes to a 2000s rom-com. Thus, our makeup plans were quickly confiscated when I laid her on the couch and she finally noticed the movie playing in the background.
When she yawned, I carried her upstairs—Sutton tried to tell me she’d drive home, but I wasn’t letting her go again—and tucked her into my bed after helping her change into one of my shirts per her request.
She’s lying on her side, facing me.
I can’t stop touching her. We can’t stop touching each other.
Her long legs are pretzeled with mine. One of my hands is holding hers, the other playing with a loose curl from the top bun she pulled her hair into.
“I’m happy I’m here,” she murmurs.
“I’m happy you chose me,” I admit.
The corners of her mouth pull upward. “Did I even have a choice?”
“You always do.” Truthful, but… “But I was going to make it hard not to pick me.”
“Didn’t take you as a pick-me boy when it came to girls.”
“Girl.”
“Why do you keep saying girl?” She yawns. The alarm clock on my bedside table reads after midnight.
Sutton’s eyes flutter closed when I say, “Because there’s only ever been you.”
I kiss her temple. Let my forehead rest there and fall asleep right behind her.
Before this,I didn’t do sleepovers. I barely even let my roommates or girls into my room. For the past year or so, the four walls of my dorm and bedroom were a battleground.
I stopped bringing people back to my place, too consumed and worried with what they’d see when they entered. Girls expect the Cooper Carmichael that’s out on the ice or in their classroom. The one who is a stained glass window, letting light reflect through me to reflect the painting of who I’m supposed to be.
But what would they see? I can’t fake that here.
Would they see a coward, or think I’m ungrateful for the life paved for me? Selfish to be considering anything other than going professional? Would they see the pole balancing on my shoulders? One side loaded with comparison, the other with obligation.
Even with Sutton, at the start, I was worried. Before that day years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice, but then she hated me. I became another version of myself, yearning for her but hiding it by becoming the villain in her story. Clinging to tossed hazel daggers across rooms, competing with her in class, teasing and taunts, a nickname she outwardly hated, but I saw inwardly how much she loved it. Wearing her favorite bracelet and combining our jersey numbers.
Now, she sees through me. I think if I let her, she would have earlier.
Maybe I should have apologized, or told her the truth, all those years ago. Maybe I wouldn’t have ended up as big of a mess as I am now.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
