He’s the Cooper I remember. The Cooper I know he’s fighting to get back to.
Without another warning, thunder shakes the car. Lightning painting over the sunset by gray clouds. The heavens open up, droplets beating down on us.
Cooper curses. “It wasn’t supposed to rain.” He urgently turns on the wiper blades.
Definitely should have suggested putting the top up.
“Do you want me to put the cover on?” I ask, tugging my hair into whatever messy ponytail it’ll manage. Wewerehaving a good hair day. And by we, I meant my curls decided to behave, but we are one raindrop away from it becoming a chaotic mane again.
When I reach to unbuckle myself, I plan to climb into the back to attempt to pull the soft top back on, Cooper’s hand drops on top of mine.
“Don’t.” His gaze jumps to me before returning to the road ahead as the rain starts coming down aggressively. “People drive like shit in the rain. I’ll pull over at the next exit.”
“You sure? I don’t mind.” Cooper won’t remove his hand from mine. “I’ll be quick. Nothing will happen.”
“Right. Yeah, I’m not letting you do that. I’m not putting you in a position to get hurt, Dave.”
“Okay,” I say, licking my bottom lip.
Cooper releases my hand, and I search on my phone, shielding it from the rain, for a place we can stop. I reprogram the maps. The stretch of road ahead of us doesn’t have many exits but plenty of farmland. That’s the middle of the Midwest for you.
We get a reprieve from the rain ten minutes later, but that doesn’t last long. The rain kicks up again as we hit the three-mile mark to our stop.
Cooper puts on “Unwritten” and laughs out, “It says to feel the rain on your skin.”
Soaking, we finally pull into the parking lot of a strip mall. Next to it, a neon sign flashes. One of the letters is missing. So, instead of The Cork Stop, it reads The Cok Stop.
Cooper reads it aloud. “There or McDonald’s? I have a change of clothes in the back.”
“We have to go to The Cok Stop.”
“Thank god,” he groans jokingly, pulling into the half-packed parking lot. His sleeves are pushed up, exposing veined forearms. I suck in a short pull of air, silently, watching them flex as he turns the wheel.
We get out of the car and immediately pull the soft top back into place. In his trunk, luckily covered and dry, we find a towel and try to dry off the front seats.
I grab his duffle from the back, and we sprint to the front doors.
Under the covering, we laugh, taking in our drowned rat appearances. His shirt is glued to his body, dipping into the carvings of muscles. The light fabric is entirely see-through. His trousers are heavy and cling to his quads. Brown hair is flat. He runs a hand through the front strands, pushing only half off his forehead.
I probably don’t look any better.
Our eyes meet, and something passes between us. I can’t put a finger on it, what it is, or why it feels important, but it lingers. My body is buzzing from the inside out. I’m forced to swallow, but it’s slow, and my throat is dry.
“You good?” he checks in.
“Great.” I nod, deciding tonight I’m running to him instead of away. And maybe listen to Meave’s suggestion.
Cooper holds the door open for me, taking the bag from my shoulder. We ask a bartender to point us in the direction of the bathroom.
“Over there.” She hands us a wooden stick covered in stickers with a key attached to the end. “Only one bathroom.”
We head in the direction she points.
I’m not sure what I expected of The Cork Stop. The exterior screams dive bar with stale cigarette air and cheap beer. However, the interior is moody and cozy. Wine bottles line the wall behind the bar, and there are barrels as standing tables. Cracked linoleum booths line two walls under decor that is all wine puns and dated to whenever this place opened. My personal favorite being the painting of two glasses, with one glass saying nice legs to the other.
If I were in my early thirties, I think this would be my dream spot. A wine dive bar.
Single file, we head down a short hallway that leads to the bathroom. I use the key to unlock the door and walk in. Cooper follows me inside, locking it behind us.
