Slick Trip

Prologue

Cooper cried that night. He cried because of me, and the memory of it still tasted like ash in the back of my throat.

The party started like any other. My best friend was nowhere to be seen—probably making out with someone—so I kept an eye on his little brother. Screw that. Jack’s disappearance had nothing to do with it. I was always going to watch Cooper. I did it out of habit, not out of interest.

Never out of interest.

That was the rule. That was also a lie, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to act on it, so the attraction was irrelevant. What mattered was knowing exactly what he was doing and who he was doing it with. Keeping him out of trouble was the working title I had for my delusion.

Watching Cooper meant noticing everything—the way he licked salt from his thumb after a handful of potato chips, and how sweat dampened his curls, making his white tank top cling to the small of his back.

He’d danced on the living room table, drawing everyone’s attention, before stepping down to flirt with anyone brave enough to ignore my glaring.

Cooper trying to make me jealous was nothing new, but that night, he really put in the effort.

I thought his behavior would stay innocent, as usual, but by the end of the night, he’d draped himself over a guy called Luke.

Luke was a decent guy.

That didn’t stop me from wanting to rearrange his face. Repeatedly.

He let Cooper straddle him, hands settling on Cooper’s waist too fucking easily. Luke’s eyes moved over him in a way that made my fists clench. He had no right to look at Cooper like that. No right to touch him.

Was punching someone because he drooled over your best friend’s little brother against the rules?

Calm. The fuck. Down.

Cooper wasn’t supposed to be my problem.

He was eighteen and fully capable of making his own decisions.

It would do me good to remember that and not stare at the way his weight settled into Luke’s lap.

I was no better than a goddamn stalker and yet, I had no intention of stopping. He was the prettiest little thing—

No. Absolutely not.

I shut that thought down violently.

Cooper was off-limits. That was it. Not pretty, but off-fucking-limits.

He looked so sweet and untouched, like an angel, but I knew there was more devil in him than anything holy—and here I was, itching to invite that devil out to play.

So far, I’d managed to resist temptation, but I was getting exhausted.

Cooper had been searching for my breaking point for years.

Every prank, every reckless stunt, every “accidental” touch .

. . it was all pressure. He was testing and pushing and waiting for me to break.

I’d spent that same time building a fortress around my self-control, making sure he’d never find the cracks in the foundation.

Because if he did . . .

Nothing would stop him.

It hadn’t always been this difficult to keep myself in check. When he was fifteen, sixteen, even seventeen, he had been easier to ignore. Somewhere along the way, though, he became the last thought before sleep and the first thing I thought about when I woke up.

Cooper was dangerous in a way he didn’t even fully understand.

Or maybe he did. He’d tried to kiss me a few weeks earlier, and that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that I’d almost let it happen.

I was agonizingly aware of the pull between us, of the heavy, low-belly ache that drew me toward him—but I’d forced myself back.

At the end of the day, he was still my best friend’s little brother, who’d imprinted on me like a damned duck when he was fifteen.

By refusing to kiss him, I’d hurt him, and now he was trying to hurt me back. Fair enough. Did he succeed? I’d admit nothing, but I was very fucking close to ripping Luke’s head off.

There weren’t many people who could resist Cooper, and it looked like Luke was no exception.

Cooper turned his charm on and off whenever he liked, aimed it at whoever he wanted.

After climbing into Luke’s lap, he’d given me a fuck-you smirk over his shoulder, but something vulnerable shimmered underneath—a wound I tried my best to ignore but couldn’t. His hurt was my doing.

For one delusional second, as I stared at Cooper in Luke’s lap, I told myself I had it under control. Then Cooper ground his hips in a slow, torturous circle, causing Luke to let out a ragged gasp, and something in me finally snapped.

I knew I was about to do something I couldn’t take back.

I didn’t fucking care.

Crossing the room, I closed my hands around Cooper’s waist and hauled him off Luke’s lap like he weighed nothing.

Whatever Luke saw in my eyes was enough for him to raise his hands in surrender.

Cooper’s reaction was entirely different. His pupils dilated in excitement.

“Follow,” I said.

I wished he’d argued. I wished he’d laughed. I wished he’d called me an asshole, but he didn’t. He fucking nodded. He trusted me so blindly that he didn’t even hesitate.

I wished I could say I meant to take him home. I didn’t. I took him upstairs.

And then I made him cry.