“Seems fitting.”
“Yeah?”
“Coffeeif I’m putting up with you, remember?” I turn my hand over and wiggle my fingers in a gimme movement. He hands me the cup, and I take a sip quickly.
So good.
“What else would you like me to call you?”
He shrugs. I poke his stomach.
The hard muscle must be quicksand because I can’t pull my finger away, instead it sinks further into the fabric covering him.
“What?” I ask, gaze grazing up from his abdomen to his face through my lashes.
“Nothing.” I tilt my head. “I’ll tell you another time,” Cooper follows up with. “Let’s go. I have a game tonight.”
“Where are we going?” His pace is quick, and I chase after him.
“I don’t know. Just wanted to spend time with you.” I take a sip of my drink, eyeing him over the hood of his car. “Is that okay?” he adds.
Sirens go off in my head, warning me that this is also a mistake. My heart shuts it off, tries to unplug the alarm and toss it out.
“Yeah, it is.”
TWENTY-TWO
COOPER
DoI have any clue where we are going? No. All I know is that I wanted to spend time with her, especially before tonight.
We’re playing Ohio State tonight, Dad’s alma mater.
They were supposed to come, but Mom has the stomach flu. She apologized twice over the phone, and I could hear Dad’s inner turmoil of staying home to take care of her or coming to the game. He’ll still watch, always finding a way to stream our games.
I shouldn’t be happy that he won’t be in the crowd.
There’s always an added layer of pressure around this game. Ohio State’s coach is the same one who coached Dad and didn’t recruit me. He’s cordial. Friendly because he has to be.
I don’t only want to impress him, I want to prove to him what he missed out on.
My teeth clench. Always having to prove myself.
I open the door to my Jeep for Sutton. She’s the only person I don’t feel the need to be something I’m not. Over the past month, I’ve cut myself open for her to see everything. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was a doctor. Removing the dying parts of me, fixing me, and sewing me back together.
She slips her tote bag off her shoulder.
“Want me to put that in the back?”
She takes her phone out before passing it to me. Her hands adjust her skirt when she sits down, pulling it over the scar on her thigh. Closing her door, and putting our bags in the back, I round the car and climb in the driver’s seat.
Sutton is texting. I wonder who? Zach?
Probably. Her cheeks lift, a hint of pink to them.
Maybe I should just take her home.
My car roars to life, and I pull out of the campus parking lot. The playlist Jaxon and I were listening to earlier pours out of the speakers.
