I nod, even though my stomach twists. “I didn’t really get a chance to say it properly before. I know I kind of gave you a hard time.”
I’m waiting for him to call out how this wasn’t my first time sitting in on practice. Maybe he didn’t recognize me the first time.
He studies me, head tilting slightly, like he’s lining pieces up and not liking how they fit.
“You sat through our entire practice,” he says, “and left without saying anything?”
“I came back,” I say. “You were already gone.”
It’s not entirely true. He doesn’t call me on it, and somehow that makes it worse.
“You didn’t have to go all the way there twice just to say thanks,” he says.
“I know,” I reply too fast. “I just happened to be nearby.”
His gaze narrows a fraction. “You’re not great at lying.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I’m not lying.”
He hums, unconvinced. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, knowing he’s probably picking up on this lie too.
He doesn’t push. Just says, “Alright,” like he doesn’t quite buy it.
Sasha reappears then, saving me without meaning to, pressing a red cup into my hand. I take a large gulp out of habit and immediately regret it.
I cough, wincing. “What is that?”
“Trust,” she says cheerfully. “I’m grabbing another round.”
She’s gone before I can protest.
Cooper watches the exchange, his expression giving nothing away. When he speaks again, his tone shifts into something more casual.
“So,” he says, nodding vaguely, “I take it you’re new around here?”
I blink. “Yeah.”
“How new?”
“Only a couple of weeks.”
That makes him pause. Just long enough to notice. “Huh.”
There it is again. That sound, like he’s filing something away.
“Where’d you move here from?” he asks.
“Not far.”
He waits, but I don’t elaborate.
A corner of his mouth lifts. “You always this guarded, or am I special?”
I glance at him. “You always ask this many questions?”
He smiles at that one.
