Cooper is absolutely December.
I’d give April to Jaxon, and Chase March. Beckett is October through and through—he is the definition of an autumn. Dawson is February.
My best friend is nonchalant. Legs tucked up under her, a glowy aura about her.
“How do you want your eggs?” Kendall leans over the counter.
“Anyway you’ll give it to me. Thank you.” She winks at him.
I pretend to gag.
“That’s my girl.”
It’s like I woke up and was dropped into a scene in a romance book. I burst out in fit of giggles, but I’m also the lightest shade of jealous.
There’s a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it.” Elliot bounces off the couch, flashing me her toned, round butt. She’s in what must be his shirt, and I pray at least a G-string. “Cooper.”
He’s behind Elliot, who is tilting her head, eyebrows up asking the same question rolling around in my head: what is he doing here?
Cooper is carrying a tray of to-go cups, and from the way his shoulders sag and the dark bags under his brown eyes, he didn’t get any more sleep than I did last night.
I already know he’s having issues sleeping, and I hate thinking I had anything to do with that last night. Drinking included.
Cooper and Kendall do that strange boy hand-clap-hug-thing. Whenever guys do this, I question why they get weird about girls going to the bathroom together. Especially knowing, at max, they’re just acquaintances.
The tray sits on our counter while Cooper helps Kendall finish making the over-medium eggs. He sighs when he accidentally drops one on the ground. Bumped out of the way, he’s placed on bread duty. Plating the toasted bagels lathered with butter, Cooper gets out of the way for Kendall to construct his pride and joy.
Elliot smacks my good knee, giving me the exact attitude I gave her merely ten minutes ago. We both watch in awe asthe guys chit-chat about their respective sports. Sipping on our drinks. Heads tilt and track their movements.
There’s a buzz in the air that shocks me whenever he looks my way. Sneaking peeks over his shoulder or from behind the fridge door.
He’s smiling, but his eyes are sad.
It’s fleeting, but for a moment, I think he might be sad about us. Apologetic at the least.
“Breakfast is ready,” Kendall calls out. He has two plates in his hands, carrying them to us. Cooper is behind him with another two.
Cooper cleans up everyone’s dishes, collecting them as we finish. Elliot and Kendall disappeared into her room. Thankfully returning less than five minutes later fully dressed, and not a hair out of place or lip gloss stained skin.
“Don’t study too hard.” Elliot plops a kiss on the top of my head before floating out of the apartment, Kendall right behind her.
The door closing echoes against running water as I pad into kitchen to retrieve my second caffeinated beverage of the morning. I brush past Cooper, the smell of him overtaking the kitchen and me.
Wordlessly he does the dishes. Doesn’t even flinch or laugh when I tease him about not using the dishwasher. His chin is tilted down, focus strictly on the suds and vigorous, circular scrubbing he’s doing.
I return to the living room, tug the blanket hanging over the chaise. It dawns on me I’m not wearing pants. The worn shirt falls to an inch or two above my knees. One sock slouched to my ankles, the other pressing down the short hairs needing shaved. I adjust the fleece rectangle, turning to catch him watching me.
The tension between us is palpable. Cuttable by a knife, but not how it typically is. Lately, it’s like I’m in a fun house withhim. Stuck in one of the halls of mirrors, that’s a never-ending maze. I turn a corner, gaining a new vantage point. Seeing him, myself, and us in a different light.
The grudge and frustration I’ve held onto seem more and more pointless the more time we spend together. Blaming him for my injury. Hating him…
Maybe I got it wrong.
Maybe I let us slip through my fingers.
Maybe it wasn’t him who decided to throw us away.
