And as a bonus, in physics class, Boden talked nonstop about her. So even though the two of them weren’t physically together, I somehow managed to be the third wheel.
I only saw Cooper once that day. He stopped me in the hallway as I was about to go into drama class and gave me a bag with the ends tied together. “One of my old jerseys,” he said.
“Oh. Thanks.” I’d forgotten I’d asked for it.
He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Also, we can’t go to the Fire Grill for our first date.”
“Why not?”
He gave me a look that said I wasn’t getting it—which yeah, I wasn’t. We weren’t actually going anywhere, so what did the restaurant matter?
His gaze circled the hallway to see if it was safe to elaborate. Too many people were coming and going.
“I know a private place,” I said and led the way down the hallway to a backstage storage area.
We were tucked away among the ladders and old backdrops, but he still stood close and kept his voice low. “Here’s the thing—if we’re going to be believable as a couple, you have to understand that I don’t have an allowance, much less a trust fund. I pay for all of my own stuff, and since I don’t work many hours during football season, my mother knows I don’t go to restaurants with dress codes. She talked to me about it last night, and she either thinks we’re lying about our relationship or I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that and guilt turned in my stomach.
Before I could say more, he added, “I don’t want more of those mom-talks, so even though this is fake, we can’t say we’re going to the Fire Grill for our first date. For homecoming, maybe. But not an average date.”
“Sorry.” He was right. I was so used to my friends who didn’t think about how much money they spent, I’d forgotten Cooper’s life was different. And now I’d made him uncomfortable. “Sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t realize ... I wasn’t trying to make you feel—”
“I know you weren’t,” he cut in. “I know I’m not the usual type of guy you date. I’m not even the usual type of guy who goes to this school.” He ran his hand through his hair in agitation until his curls flopped back across his forehead. I’d insulted him without meaning to, and I felt like an idiot that he had to spell things out for me.
I needed to lighten the mood. “True, you’re not my usualtype. You’re stronger than most of the guys in mathletes.” I reached out and squeezed his bicep. “I should’ve added buff to my top ten list. Itisone of your best qualities.”
His eyes flicked to my hand on his arm, but he didn’t shake it off, and he hadn’t flinched when I’d touched him. I dropped my hand and realized how close we stood. I took a small step backward.
“Speaking of that list,” he said, “what stories did my mother tell you that made you put responsible, organized, and hardworking on it?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really think I hadn’t noticed things about him on my own—especially when they were obvious? “I said you were hardworking because you not only practice football, you have a part-time job too. I said you take responsibility because you didn’t blame anyone else after our football team lost the game. I said you were organized because you somehow manage to juggle practice, work, and school—and also I raided your PE locker and saw that you folded your jeans. Who does that?”
He lowered his chin. “People who aren’t slobs.”
“Only organized neat freaks,” I said as though I was agreeing with him.
He laughed, and just like that, things felt normal between us again.
I tapped my fingers together and nodded, admitting to more crimes. “I did ask your mom to tell me stories about you, but she didn’t produce any incriminating ones. Claire said your mom couldn’t tell me the one about the shoes. What’s that one about?”
“The shoes?” He had no idea what I meant.
“Yeah, the shoe story.” I couldn’t give him more details because I didn’t know them. “It wasn’t about how you made Clairerun home from school every day. Although, I do think someone should’ve called CPS on you for that.”
I saw the moment recognition crossed his face. His eyes lit up with understanding.
“Well?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not telling you.”
“Why not? Does it make you look bad? How bad are we talking?”
He smiled and shook his head again. “Not telling.”
Which only piqued my curiosity. “You stole some shoes, didn’t you?”
He walked past me, still shaking his head. “I’m going to be late for class. See you later, Mads.”
