Chapter 19
AMARA
Cooper leaves for training camp in only a few days, which means we have a date to appease the producer Gods.
Which is why we’re currently sitting in front of little clay mugs, an array of paints in the middle of us.
“What are you going to paint?” he asks, laying out his paint brushes.
“I feel like it’s pretty well established that I’m not a great artist,” I say, a little annoyed for some reason.
The art class that we used to take together was great, but it honestly didn’t do me any favors. I was an awful artist. I’ll leave that part to Isla.
“But I think I’m going to paint fluffernutter.”
“The sandwich, or the cat?”
“The cat, obviously.” I roll my eyes, but for some reason, Cooper doesn’t really get the hint today.
The film crew moves around us the whole time we paint. Cooper tries his best to make me smile, and he almost succeeds.
“One of these days, I feel like I have to make you smile,” he says suddenly, putting his mug down.
I shrug. “You’ve made me smile.”
His head shakes, his brown hair flinging left to right. “No. Like really smile.”
“I don’t—”
“One day, I want to be worthy of that. Can I just say that?” His voice is sincere. Pleading. Borderline pathetic.
Just like I like my men.
Damn him.
I look down at my mug. “Are we really doing this on camera right now?” It comes out as a mumble as I attempt to ensure the cameras don’t pick it up.
His eyes are intense as they study me. There’s no hint of a smile anywhere to be found.
I sigh. “I wish that things were different every day, Cooper. I really do. I just don’t really know how to move past everything. I sent you so many letters. So many emails. I thought there was something between us. No,” I swallow roughly. “I knew there was something between us. You hurt me a lot.”
He flinches, his eyes angled down at his hands in his lap.
“All I wanted was a sign.”
“I wanted to give it to you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I—”
“I’m not sure I really want to know that right now, actually,” I say, changing my mind.
Whether it’s because I’m scared of knowing, or because I don’t want his confession to be while cameras are rolling, I’m not sure.
The silence between us is heavy as we continue painting. It occurs to me that we may make for the most boring season of reality TV there is, other than the wedding.
Boy, are a lot of people that are going to be wildly let down as the season goes on. I really hope the other couples featured are pulling their weight, because we sure aren’t.
“What’s going on with business?” he asks suddenly. He clears his throat.
“There’s not much to say.” I pick up the tiny brush and add a couple more details to my fluffy white little man. “I’m taking a little tiny break as we do this, and to help your sister with her opening.”
His eyes widen. “Oh, you’re doing that?”
“Of course. I told her I would.” Something a little evil snaps in my brain. “I keep my promises,” I say lightly.
The words were meant to hurt, and they did. I watch as he flinches, his eyes growing sad.
We finish up the date silently after that, much to production's dismay. I believe Eddy’s exact words were, “Yay! Give us nothing!”
When we leave, we walk into what feels like a monsoon.
Cooper pulls me into him. “Do you want me to shield you from the rain?” he asks, and I’m confused.
“I mean, sure,” I say, looking around. What would he even shield me with?
But I soon learn that he means with his body. Well, his body and clothes. Because Cooper lifts his large shirt and places it over my head.
Just like we did as kids.
Fuck.
“I’ll lead you to the car!” he says over the roar of the rain hitting the pavement.
His large hands grab mine, my arms pinned to my sides as I try not to move too much.
We quickly make our way to the far end of the parking lot.
He throws his truck’s door open, and I’m suddenly extremely glad that he has multiple cars, because I can’t imagine driving a little slutty sports car in this.
Letting me out of his grasp and shirt, Cooper signals for me to climb in.
I’m soaking wet. The shirt did nothing.
But he smells so god damn good.
Cooper runs around the back of the truck, climbing in quickly. I find him looking at me from the corner of his eye, almost as if a dog would—
And he shakes his hair, sending water flying everywhere.
My jaw drops, my eyes closed as I struggle to protect myself. Why would I? I’m not even sure. I’m already soaked.
“You didn’t!” I hiss.
“You’re right. I didn’t,” he sings, turning the truck on.
“Cooper Henry!”
“That is my name.”
“I’m so pissed at you!”
His eyes meet mine with a smirk. “Interesting,” he drawls before putting the truck in reverse, looking over his shoulder, and backing out.
It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and I have to stop myself from drooling.
Cooper is bad! You do not like him! He broke your heart!
I’ve found myself needing the reminder more often than not, lately.
We settle into a silence as he drives us home.
Home.
“You know,” I say quietly as we pass the baseball stadium. “I always thought you’d be my first.”
He nearly swerves as he looks over at me. “First what?”
“First everything,” I admit.
“You were my first kiss. My first sleepover, no matter how innocent. You were my first fantasy.”
I watch his knuckles tighten around the wheel. “You were a few firsts, but you weren’t all of them. I trusted you enough that I wanted to give you everything. Well, I wanted that for me. I didn’t want to experience it with just some guy.”
Cooper’s jaw ticks, and I watch it in awe.
He really did grow up nice. Sharp angles. Beautiful.
“I think things would have been better if you just,” I pause, thinking over my words carefully. “If you just acknowledged me. Even just once. If I didn’t think that you wanted nothing to do with me. Like I meant nothing to you, ever.”
“You meant everything to me.” His voice comes out cracked. Tortured. Sad.
I ignore him.
“The next thing I know, you’re turning up in Baltimore, playing for our football team. The same football team my friend’s brother plays on.”
The day Isla started talking about the new tight end the team had drafted, I almost spit out my coffee. We had been at a small coffee shop, grabbing drinks before going to the farmer’s market.
I had nearly lost it.
“I just couldn’t understand why.”
“I didn’t get to pick where I went. The draft is for teams to pick the players that they want. But,” he sighs, looking as if he wants his seat to swallow him whole. “A part of me did hope that it was some divine intervention. Something was telling me to reconnect with you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“The first time I saw you with your friends, you looked happy. And you looked at me like you wished I was six feet under.”
I feel my heart squeeze in my chest, a crushing feeling of uneasiness settling over me.
“I didn’t want to ruin it.”
His fists relax on his wheel as he turns into his parking garage. We pass our cars until he’s at the far end, where there’s a little more room for his truck.
And when he pulls into his spot, I notice something I hadn’t before.
“The tennis ball,” I whisper.
It’s the final straw. The dam breaks, and the second Cooper puts the truck in park, I’m out the door, making a beeline for the entrance.
“Amara!” Cooper calls after me in a panic.
“You know, I had to learn about your grandpa passing in a Facebook post?” I spit, voice ricocheting off the walls of the garage as I turn around.
Cooper comes to a stop in the middle of the room.
“One of the people I loved most in the world. I lost you. Your sister barely talked to me. And I learn he died on social media.”
The tears fall, and all I want to do is lie on the ground and let them overtake me.
It feels like reliving it all over again.
Cooper opens his mouth to say something, but I turn around, making a beeline for the elevator.
The doors close just as Cooper comes into view again, his face ashen.
But it’s not until I get to his entrance that I realize I forgot the key he gave me.
I’m stuck in front of his door, my head resting on the wall as I will myself to stop crying.
Cooper is there only a few minutes later, looking pale as a ghost.
He unlocks the door, letting me in first.
And he disappears into his room without a word.