Okay. Fine. He’s not exactly the arrogant jockhole his reputation suggests, but that’s hardly the point.
Cooper doesn’t do virgins. Or girlfriends.
Well, that escalated quickly.
It really did.
I mentally backpedal. It’s not like I actually want to date Cooper. It was a hypothetical thought. Who could blame me? The guycankiss.
#Facts.
“Dude. We all get it. You’ve got a big dick,” Noah barks. “Now get in the tank and away from my sister.”
Cooper winks at me and turns on his heel.
I watch in fascination as he strips off his shirt, revealing the most droolworthy abs I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing, and climbs into the tank.
If you ask nicely, he’ll probably let you touch them.
So not happening.
“How’s it going?” Noah asks, yanking my attention from Cooper, who’s perched on the dunk bench like a preening peacock, a giant grin plastered on his face.
“Traffic could be better.”
“It’ll pick up.” Noah chuckles and shakes his head. “I spread the word that DeLaurentis would be in the tank at six.”
And like magic, a group of cheerleaders arrive, their faces painted and their smiles bright. I watch as they go through the line one by one, doing their best to drop Coop in the cold water. A few of them hit the target, but despite their impressive power, he doesn’t go down.
For his part, Coop doesn’t hesitate to heckle them, his deep voice carrying beyond the booth. It helps draw interest from the passing crowds and our line starts to grow.
Noah takes over collecting cash and I hand out balls, pulling double duty since I also have to collect them from the ground around the dunk tank every few minutes.
We have a steady stream of players for the next twenty minutes and I’m feeling much better about our fundraising efforts—despite the fact that Coop has yet to come off the bench—when a bunch of football players roll up to the booth.
I recognize a few of them, mostly seniors. Austin Reid, Waverly’s star quarterback. Smith and Parker, both tight ends. Vaughn, a left tackle. There’s a brunette woman with them and surprise washes over me when I realize it’s Kennedy Carter, the Wildcats’ new kicker.
She’s been killing it, despite the team’s loss to Nebraska last week.
Talk about a dark day in College Park.
Hopes and dreams crushed by the tens of thousands.
Alcohol flowing like a river.
No shortage of tears.
Fortunately, Wildcat Nation is resilient, and most of us have faith Waverly can still bring home a national championship.
To be honest, I’m surprised the team is here tonight. I figured they’d be busting their asses on the practice fields. They’ve got Ohio on the schedule this weekend and there’s no love lost between the teams. It’s always a slugfest and tensions will run high, both on the field and off.
The football players sling catcalls at Cooper as Noah collects their money.
He eats it up, flexing his arms and blowing them kisses like he’s been waiting all night for their arrival.
I roll my eyes and dole out the balls. The guys jostle for position, all wanting to go first, but after Parker fails to hit the target and Coop shreds him for having shit aim, they push Reid to the front.
Not a bad play. After all, he’s got the best arm on the team.
