He laughs under his breath, pulling me in closer like he’s not ready to let go yet.
It’s starting to hit me that I don’t think I’ll ever want him to let go.
Chapter Seventeen
Brinley
I haven’t told Cooper his hockey coach is my father.
I haven’t told him the truth behind why I really came to Rixton.
And every day that passes, it feels less like I’m waiting for the right moment and more like I’m lying to him.
The worst part is that I keep justifying my decision.
I tell myself it’s cleaner this way. Whatever is developing between the two of us should get to exist on its own. It shouldn’t have to interfere with whatever relationship I could have with my father, or with the fact that Cooper is one of the players on his team.
I don’t want one to affect the other. But the longer I let it go, the harder it is to ignore what I’m not saying.
Cooper doesn’t ask too many questions. He never presses when I dodge, and he never digs too deep when I give him half answers. However, I know him well enough now to see them written on his face.
Maybe it’s getting harder because I trust him now… and I want that to go both ways. Which also means trusting that when I’m ready, I’ll tell him.
And I’m not ready… yet.
By the time we go upstairs, my head won’t quiet down. I grab my things and head for the guest bathroom to freshen up. When I step out, wrapped in a towel, I can hear the shower running in the bedroom. I pause for a second, just standing there, listening to it.
It’s too easy to picture him.
I press my lips together and push the thought away, getting dressed quickly before I can get stuck there.
By the time I make it to the living room, I settle onto the couch, tucking one leg beneath me as I stare down at my phone without actually looking at anything.
The shower shuts off.
A few minutes later, Cooper steps out, running a towel through his damp hair. It’s a little slower with his right hand, but he doesn’t seem to care. His shirt hangs loose, still damp in spots, and I catch myself looking a second too long before I force my attention somewhere else.
He notices anyway. I can feel it.
His gaze lingers just a beat before he shakes his head slightly, pushing his hair back.
I push myself up before it turns into something else, closing the distance between us. My fingers brush his arm without thinking as I move past him.
“I’m gonna head to the student center,” I say, grabbing my bag from the back of the chair. “I’ve got some homework I need to get done.”
He watches me for a second. “Yeah, okay,” he says after a beat. “I’ve got a couple of things to do for my mom, but I was thinking we could grab dinner after.”
For a second, I almost stay. Almost say yes without thinking about it.
“Maybe when I’m finished?” I say instead. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I don’t want to hold you up.”
I force an easy smile, the way I learned how to while growing up.
He nods, even if it takes him a second. “All right. Just text me when you’re done. Or if you need anything.”
I nod, forcing a small smile as I sling my bag over my shoulder. “I will.”
I don’t miss the way his eyes stay on me as I head for the door. And I don’t miss the way it makes it harder to leave.
