4. Leah
4
Leah
H e is so lucky. So, so lucky that our very nice waiter is back for our order. I take a breath and clear my head. But watching Cooper squirm over the retelling of that night, as well as eight years of healing, makes me think I can do this. I might be ready to hash out prom night with Cooper Freaking Bailey.
So, the second Mitch gives his order and our waiter leaves, I address Andrea’s very confused expression. “That’s not it. Far from it.”
Cooper rolls his head from side to side and doesn’t offer to finish. Good. It’s my turn. And I’m ready. No more shy, timid Leah hiding in the corner.
“So, Cooper and his little posse?—”
“ Friends ,” he says, already interjecting. “Not a posse. Just friends.”
“Whatever. They start into their song—if you can call it that—and three spotlights turn on. First on Cooper and his two friends , but then the lights moved.” I give Cooper a sardonic smile.
Cooper stirs in his seat and scratches his beard. “To the girls. The ones we were supposed to be singing to.”
“Aw, yes. And were you supposed to be singing to me ?” I ask, knowing the answer, but I need this man to squirm a little longer. High School Hell demands it.
Andrea gasps, a hand cupping her mouth as if we’re watching a telenovela and the drama just got good.
Cooper coughs, choking on nothing—we have no meal yet. He hasn’t touched his café con leche or the chips and salsa on the table. “Uh, no. I was not.”
“No,” I say, ready for my career as the next Erin Brockovich. “And yet, that spotlight turned on me .”
Andrea’s head whips to Mitch. She smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand, but Mitch isn’t nearly as impressed with the late-night TV drama of our story as Andrea.
“Yes,” I say, my voice strong and sturdy. Yep, I’m the attorney today. So, look out, Bailey!
At least, I’m assuming Cooper is a lawyer. My sister, Caitlyn, likes to share hometown news—even news I don’t want to hear. She told me he was studying law a couple of years ago. As if I cared!
“That’s right, Cooper Bailey’s spotlight landed on me. So, instead of singing to the right girl—whoever that might have been—he sang to me.”
I stare at him. Waiting for his defense. He doesn’t have one, though. How can you argue with facts?
Case closed. Leah Bradford—winner!
Andrea stirs in her seat, her nose wrinkling, all the drama leaving her. “Annoying.” She nods. “Dumb for sure.” Her brows cinch, and her eyes bounce from Cooper back to me. “But that doesn’t sound too horrible.” I glower, and my friend is quick to add, “Moronic, one hundred percent. But awful?” She lifts one shoulder, a pathetic apology smile on her lips.
Cooper doesn’t jump on the OUT train she’s offering him. Because, like me, he knows the rest of the story.
“I can see why you’d think that, Andrea. One little spotlight. One little song. But you’d be wrong.” I hold my head high and finish the story of the most humiliating night of my life. “The problem is, Cooper likes to go all in. He couldn’t just sing. He couldn’t find the right girl and sing to her.” I stare at him, eyes wide. “Perhaps the guy running the spotlight would have moved to wherever you were. Did you ever think of that?”
Cooper’s throat bobs with a swallow. “Uh, nope. My seventeen-year-old brain didn’t come up with that solution.”
No, it did not, because Cooper, while a pretty face and a fancy degree, really isn’t that bright.
It’s a lie. That dummy was always on the honor roll.
“So, Cooper waltzed over to where I sat—with my boyfriend , by the way—and sang, asking me if I thought he was sexy and if I wanted his body .”
“I’ve got to look up this song,” Andrea says.
“He proceeded to dance in front of me like some kind of Magic Mike performer. He sat on my lap. He caressed my cheek with his hand. He blew me a kiss. All in front of our entire high school. All while I sat next to my first—and only —high school boyfriend.”
Why didn’t I push him off? Why didn’t I slap him? Why didn’t I run away?
Andrea’s nose scrunches in what may become a perpetual wrinkle. “Yeah, that’s not… awesome.”
“Oh, it gets better.” I turn in my seat, once again giving Cooper my full attention. “Do you remember what happened next? ”
Cooper’s cheeks have the decency to bloom cherry red. “Your boyfriend wasn’t very happy, if I heard right. I might have left. I didn’t stick around.”
I breathe out a sarcastic laugh. “How chivalrous of you—to sing, dance, and ditch . I guess you could say Rob wasn’t happy. After your performance, he screeched at me. He accused me of cheating on him and told me he never should have wasted time on a prude like me. Then, he proceeded to tell every person in the room that I wasn’t worth their time.”
“Yeah.” Cooper coughs. “That guy was a jerk.”
“He sounds worse than Pathetic Jackalope!” Andrea slaps a hand to the tabletop, bringing up my ex, always with one of her clever nicknames. I could have done without any PJ talk tonight—thanks a lot, friend.
I give her my shut-up eyes, and because Andrea has a big ol’ brain in her head, she zips her lips.
But Cooper has already heard. “Who?”
“And!” I bellow, slapping my own palm to the table, because we won’t be discussing my failed love life or who PJ is tonight. Not with Cooper Bailey. “I couldn’t go a single day for the next year and a half without someone saying to me, ‘Hey, Leah, do you think I’m sexy?’” I swallow, and though it hurts—it should hurt him more. He should be ashamed. So, I steady my tone and add, “Not to mention the memes.”
“No.” Andrea grimaces, her hands cupping her mouth.
“Yep.” I slide my eyes to Cooper. “How many of those did you see?”
His brows pull together. “Um… I knew about one, maybe two. Were there more?”
I tap a finger to my chin. “One or two? I’m not sure how you missed the dozens made. People took videos and photos that night. And they used them. Man, those captions were clever and insulting—at least at my expense. They still pop into my feed now and then.”
Mitch wrinkles his nose. “That’s crap.”
“To be clear,” Cooper says, sitting straighter, “I never made a meme. I agree—not cool. I didn’t encourage that.”
I huff. “You didn’t have to. All the Cooper lovers in the world did it for you.”
“I mean, I was in those memes too.”
“You were. Yes. And yet, no one ever wrote anything negative about you. It wasn’t your face they zoomed in on.”
Cooper’s eyes drift down. Good. Let him feel foolish. All I ever wanted was to survive high school. I was just minding my own business in the shadows when Cooper Bailey decided to put a literal spotlight directly over my world.
“Leah,” Andrea says, no more giggling in her tone. “That’s awful, sweetie.”
I’m on a roll, so I keep going. “I could also tell you all how I had to walk home! After my date accused me of cheating on him, he refused to give me a ride. My phone was dead, I was too horrified to ask anyone at the dance for a ride, and of course, for the first time in my life, I’d decided to wear high heels.”
Andrea gasps. “You never wear high heels.”
“And now you know why! They are the Iron Maiden of the feet.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I couldn’t walk without pain for a month.”
“Oh, Leah.” Andrea shakes her head.
“Not cool,” Mitch says. That’s right, Mitch—not cool at all. Maybe we should force Cooper Bailey into high heels and make him walk two miles after this sham of a dinner date.
Cooper scratches at his temple. “In my defense, I had no idea you had to walk home that night, or about there being multiple memes. ”
I tilt my head. “In your defense ? You have no defense. Your defense is dead. All you have is your guilt. Guilty as charged.” I’m rambling. And it’s possible I’d never stop, but just then our waiter comes out with a tray full of food.
Cumin, peppers, and the scent of grilled meats waft through the air. It’s a good smell. And yet my already rolling stomach turns. I’m not sure I can eat.
“Oh, umm…” Andrea looks up at the man.
And I happily finish for her. “We’re going to need to-go boxes.”
My friend nods. “Yep.”
The server leaves, promising to box it all up for us.
“Okay, Mr. Hot Shot lawyer, I’m going to let you buy my dinner. You owe me that?—”
“I do,” he says, his tone low, but I’m not interested in hearing what Cooper Bailey has to say.
“However, I’m not going to sit here any longer.” We didn’t even get into the aftereffects of that night. Sure, I lost my boyfriend—who I clearly needed to lose. Rob Barker was not worth my time or my affection—but I suffered the consequences of that night until the day I graduated. Those memes didn’t go away. Some people hated me because they thought the wonderful Cooper Bailey loved me and I’d rejected him. Some thought Rob was right and I was a cheater. Most people went from not having a clue who I was to suddenly feeling strong emotions about me. They didn’t know me; their knowledge was tied to cruel memes, whispered jokes, and pointed fingers.
I flick the collar of Cooper’s jacket lying over the back of his chair. “Let’s never do this again. Okay, Bailey?”