Instead of getting the hint, TC told me he thought a lot of sexual harassment suits were trumped-up manhunts by spurned women. We spent the rest of the picnic arguing over the merits of specific cases, which I guess was bound to happen when both of our parents worked at a law firm.
Somewhere in all of that, he got my phone number so he could text me proof, which, now that I thought about it, perhaps meant he wasn’t as bad at flirting as I first supposed. Since then, every once in a while, he’d sent me some meme or opinion that was clearly meant to start an argument.
If Cooper and I were still fake dating at homecoming, I’d see TC play at the game. He went to our rival, Riggs High.
Down on the field, the players got into position. I took out my phone and put it on the video setting. If Cooper was knocked down again, I wanted to send him the video the next time he was obnoxious to me.
Dad snatched my phone out of my hand. “Don’t.”
“What?” I asked, scrambling for a believable excuse. “I wantfootage of Cooper being awesome so I can compile another video that makes up for the last one.”
That earned me a smile from Ms. Nash. “That’s a nice idea.” She at least believed me. “I can give you some clips. One of the parents films the games. I always send a copy to Cooper’s father.”
Dad still surveyed me with narrow eyes and a warning look. “Why don’t you just watch the game and enjoy it.” He set my phone on his lap.
The next play started. Cooper threw the ball downfield. It arced high and long, and the audience collectively held their breath—right up until the moment our guy didn’t catch the ball. A murmur of disappointment swept through the stands.
The other team got the ball, and a bunch of the players switched out.
“At least he gets to rest now,” I said.
Ms. Nash looked at me with polite interest. “Since you’re not a football fan, what do you and Cooper have in common?”
Nothing that I could think of offhand. The impulsive part of my brain wanted to say “searing chemistry,” but that’s also the part of my brain that gets me into trouble. I’d waited too long to come up with a response, so I just said, “Opposites attract.” I gestured in my father’s direction. “I mean, look at you two. What do you have in common?”
“We’re both single parents,” Dad said.
“With ex-spouses who aren’t around,” Ms. Nash agreed.
“We’ve got children who are the same age,” he said.
“And daughters who like acting,” she added.
Dad sent me a pointed look. “And we both have children who’ve given us trouble lately with their pranks.”
I didn’t like where this was going. It was about to evolve into a litany of my flaws and offenses.
I cut into their list. “You should tell me some stories about Cooper. Help me learn more about him.” Parents loved to talk about their children. She wouldn’t be able to resist.
She looked upward, thinking. “Stories about Cooper ...”
Claire leaned over, proving that she was occasionally listening to our conversation. “Don’t tell the one about the shoes.”
“What’s that one?” I asked.
Ms. Nash brought her gaze back to me. “I can tell you why he’s so good at running.”
Besides the fact that he was tall, strong, and worked out all the time? Was she about to announce that he’d been bullied as a child and had to outrun his tormentors? Somehow, I couldn’t imagine Cooper ever running from anyone.
Ms. Nash put her hands in her lap, settling into storytelling mode. “Since I work, Cooper was always in charge of walking Claire home from school. When he was in middle school and Claire was in elementary, the buildings were about a mile apart, but I didn’t want Claire going home by herself. She felt anxious lingering around the school for a long time, so every day, Cooper ran to the elementary school to pick her up. After that, I think running just became a habit for him. He’s good because he’s been doing it for so long.”
This had not been the sort of story I’d expected to hear about Cooper; a story where he was taking care of his little sister. I’m pretty sure if Peyton had been in charge of picking me up from elementary school and I’d felt anxious about waiting, she would’ve told me to buck up, find a place to sit, and do my homework until she got there.
“That’s sweet,” I said.
Claire puffed out a breath. “It became less sweet when I started middle school and Cooper was so used to jogging a mileevery day, he wanted to run home because he had better things to do than meander down the sidewalk like a normal person. As soon as we got away from the school, our walk turned into a forced race, and if I didn’t move fast enough, he threatened to beat me home, lock me out, and go through all the stuff in my room.”
That probably explained the time Claire locked him outside in his underwear. It was revenge.
