I shift my hands lower down his trapezius, digging more into his rhomboid minor and major. “Here?” I press in using the heel of my hand.
Cooper whimpers. Twice.
It drips down my spine like honey.
I press in again, then repeat on the other side. The yellowing bruise is there, wrapping around his ribcage. I’m careful not to touch it, but I do lean down to softly kiss the skin around it. I notice a new one forming almost under it.
“New?” I rub a gentle finger around it. “What’s this one from?”
“I don’t know. Must have been a slow burn.” He laughs, cheek on the comforter, eyes flicking to me in his peripheral vision.
“Oh yeah? It didn’t kiss your skin till seventy-five percent through?”
“At least it didn’t take fifteen years.”
“Funny.” I pinch his unbruised side above his Levi’s.
“I think it’s from the hit in our game against Minnesota. That side is achy and tender, but I figured it’s my other bruise. Popped up this morning.”
I lean forward and press a kiss next to it. “Now it’s better.”
“Mhmm.”
I keep massaging his back. Eventually, he takes off his jeans and I move to his legs. Little noises slip out of him while we talk about everything and nothing at the same time.
I stop when my phone buzzes. An email notification pops up. I glance over at it and read up to where the subject line cuts off. I pick up my phone, fingers moving quicker than my racing heart.
Tapping and swiping open the notification, I curse under my breath as the screen goes white before loading.
I scurry to the end of the bed and swing my legs over. The brightness on my phone is low, but enough to highlight the tear wetting my cheek like you do a slip and slide before everyone takes their turns.
A couple more tears sneak out, and I use the back of my hand to wipe them away.
I reread the email again. And again.
The bed dips next to me. Cooper sidles up next to me.
“Everything okay?” He peers over at my phone. “What is that?”
“I didn’t get the internship.”
It was a long shot, I know that. By the time the psych department approved my study, I was already late to the game, applying for internships or fellowship programs. This one didn’t have as strict requirements as the others.
It was my only shot. And I think I put a lot more weight on it than I intended. I wanted this, needed this, and didn’t get it.
His arm slips around my shoulders, fingers digging into my shoulder like he’s playing the piano.
“I-I can’t believe it.” Well, I can. I’m never the one picked. The one that’s wanted. “This was my only option.” My voice cracks, barely above a mumble.
Cooper pulls me into his chest and holds me. “We’llfigure it out.”
A handful of days later,I’m trying to enjoy the rare quietness of campus. Slowly strolling through the lawn, sipping on chai, and catching up on social media.
My favorite author announced a new book. Antonio’s is trying a pickle pizza. And…I scroll up and back down, making sure my suggested for you post isn’t fake.
It’s Izzy in Chicago. She got the internship.
I unfollowed her last year, but can’t lie and say I didn’t look her up after the interview. Now here she is.
