Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
SUTTON
It’s as if the universe is Team Cooper. I go to start my car the next morning, and the engine sputters. Now, I may know nothing about cars, but from the noises and smell drifting from my hood, I can surmise that I am not driving my car today. Probably a week at best.
Meave’s art show is tonight in Chicago. I wanted to be early to surprise her, but instead, the surprise will be her little sister and biggest fan no-showing.
“This can’t be happening,” I mutter to myself, dropping my forehead to the steering wheel. Disappointment tugging my patchwork jacket tighter around me.
I run through the list of options in my head.
Elliot, no.
Jordan, no.
Beck is probably busy as always. Jaxon doesn’t have a car. Dawson—who, like me, loves a color-coordinated calendar and shared his with me—was leaving after practice to go meet his boyfriend’s parents. Chase, probably with Elliot.
Cooper…
He mentioned he was planning on going to the show last week, but I never heard more from him on it. Maybe he’s still planning on going.
He isn’t my last resort. Truthfully, he’s who I thought of first, but then I started replaying last night and…was it too soon to need him?
I unplug my phone from the charging cord and text him.
Are you still planning to go to Meave’s art show?
Cooper
Wouldn’t miss it.
His response is unexpectedly immediate. Simple words that would have annoyed me in the past, possibly mocking, now have me grinning at my phone. Cooper’s words from last night echo in my mind. I’m making myself an option.
He’s trying. He’s been trying for longer than I care to admit.
I hate admitting it, but Cooper is nice, considerate and complimentary.
So friendly that it comes off as flirty, but that’s not how he’d treat me.
He’d tease and taunt me—eventually it was mutual because I’d throw it right back.
Everything was made into a competition—which I thought was a need to be better than me.
But the past couple of months…this is different. I think?
At first, I chopped it up to our arrangement. Teaching me. He was making me comfortable with flirting. However, now, I think he was flirting with me. Intentionally.
And the craziest part? I liked it. I’ve enjoyed it, craved more of it. Might have unintentionally started flirting back.
Cooper
Do you want to ride together?
Are you sure this isn’t your way to kidnap me and murder me?
Cooper
If I were kidnapping you, it wouldn’t be to murder you.
Be ready at 2.
We talked the entire car ride. Bickering over music, our hands accidentally brushing when we both lunged for the aux cord.
When it happened a second time, he curled his fingers around mine, guiding my hand to my lap. Without ever taking his eyes off the road, he finagled my hand, flipping it over and resting it on my thigh. His palm swallowed mine, callouses brushing my skin. Long fingers intertwined with mine.
My gaze wanders up to his face from where we’re connected. It looks like he’s holding his breath, waiting for me to pull away, but I don’t, I relax into the seat and the feeling. Cooper notices, and the corners of his mouth hook up.
I raise his I’m making myself an option with I want him to be an option.
In the parking garage connected to the art gallery, he houses a ham and cheese sandwich he packed. My sister is vegan and picked a restaurant that has an exclusively vegan menu to celebrate her show afterward. Meave promised we wouldn’t even know the food didn’t include meat.
I walk in before Cooper—we planned this in the car. He swore it wouldn’t matter that we showed up together or walked in side-by-side, but it does. Tonight is for Meave, not the announcement that Cooper and I are…well whatever we are.
He’s two steps behind me, and I know he can see Meave over my shoulder.
Her fluffy brows are ticked up, mouth pursed with a slight glint in one corner.
We speak silently—a secret, unique language we developed years ago. Blinks and brows and smiles are an entire language to us.
She’s asking me why he’s smirking and why my cheeks are painted the same color as his.
I blink back. Don’t ask questions.
Her brows dip, a sassy, subtle head movement, and I know this conversation, while over now, is going to be revisited later.
I throw my arms around her, pulling my sister into a suffocating hug.
“Congrats!” I squeal.
“Thank you! I’m so happy you made it.” She squeezes me back, just as tight.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Even though I was at your first unofficial show.”
“Computer paper and finger paints.” We release each other. “However, the playdough sculptures never did get the admiration they deserved.”
Since the day I met Meave, she’s always been an artist. Pictures lining our shared room moved to dotting the fridge and Dad’s office. In frames lining the entryway. A full mural at Mom’s shop.
Painting—watercolors is her specialty, but she loves all mediums. Photography, ceramics, oil pastels—and she doesn’t consider it art, but I do—needlepoint and sewing.
The dress she’s wearing, I know, is one of her creations.
It’s long with a fitted bodice, and scooping silk from the waist down, a dark amethyst. She’s the most exquisite piece of art in here tonight.
Deep brown hair in big loose waves, one side pinned back with jeweled clip.
Blush perfectly placed on her warm olive skin, and an ombre of cool toned eyeshadow.
I quickly peruse the front room with only my eyes. Bright pieces of artwork line the walls. Stationed in the room are cocktail tables with black tablecloths. A handful of servers walk around carrying small bites and wine.
“This. Is. So. Cool.”
“I know.” Meave beams. Giddy, her feet can’t stay still. “Can you imagine if I had accepted that job at the big gallery in London? This probably wouldn’t have ever happened.”
“It would have,” I reassure her, but quietly I’m agreeing. I’m so happy she’s a drive away instead of a trans-Atlantic flight.
Cooper’s cousin’s best friend, Emerson, lives in London. She’s an editorial and travel photographer. Meave spent a summer there a few years ago, learning from her and staying in her husband’s hotels. Emerson connected Meave with a gallery there which turned into a job offer after graduation.
“Are there more rooms?”
“Two more rooms.” Meave can barely contain her excitement. “They gave me the entire space.”
“As deserved.”
She pulls me in the direction of a black and white painting. Cooper waves bye, pocketing his hands into his jeans.
Meave walks me around the gallery, giving me a private tour and explanation about each piece. She politely ignores the people trying to pull at her.
This entire night is about her, but here she is, arm looped into mine, hand grasping my bicep, squeezing when she gets specifically delighted about a piece.
Voice octave jumping up with passion. In between pieces, she gossips with me like we are back in middle school and sneaking across the hallway into each other’s bedroom to have a sleepover.
We’d hide under the comforter with a flashlight and books, talking and giggling till mom and dad cracked open the door, reminding us that it’s bedtime. They gave up eventually.
“When were you going to tell me about that?” Meave pinches my side, not bothering to lower her voice in the crowd of people that’s beginning to form.
“There is no that.” I laugh. The kind you do when you are hiding something. I’m not hiding anything from her, maybe myself.
“Uh-huh. That’s why he’s been ten steps behind us, following you like a lost puppy all night.”
“No, he hasn’t.” I throw my chin over my shoulder, looking for Cooper.
“I was joking, but damnnnn.”
“We’re friends again.” No one notices my misstep, my body physically tripping on my verbal admittance.
“Friends or more than friends.”
I stumble over my words this time, a road bump in my throat. “Uh—”
Meave whirls in front of me. “You kissed.” She points a finger at me.
“Shhh.” I relocate her finger to pressing into her mouth, silencing her. Her two-word freakout drew attention to us. “People are watching.”
“I don’t care!” However, Meave tugs us into the offices in the back. I spot her desk immediately. Cluttered and organized chaos. She pulls out her desk chair, pushing it in my direction. Then moves papers and books around before sitting on her desk.
“Tell me everything. I want allllll the details.”
“Meave.” I roll my eyes, taking a seat. “He’s like a brother to you.”
She snickers. “Apparently not to you.” When she can tell I’m not going to relinquish any juicy details, she sighs. “You’ve gotta give me something. At least tell me how it was. One to ten?”
“Mind seizing, body trembling, foot popping.” Again, I feel the ghost of his lips on mine. I lean forward, resting my head in her lap. She runs a hand through my curls like she used to. “He told me he didn’t start the rumor.”
There’s a pause, and I hear her take a sharp inhale. I’ve refused this topic for years. “Do you believe him?”
“I’m not sure. I think so, but I don’t understand why he’d lie, or all these years later not come clean. What do you think?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah.” It comes out more like an exhale. Meave taps my shoulder, and I sit up.
“You were quick to believe that he started it…and…never gave him a chance to explain. You kept him at an arm’s distance until what? A month or so ago?”
“Okay, but—”
“You needed time and so did he, but that’s up.”
Is it hot in here? Did they turn off the AC? I’m hot. I take off my jacket, draping it in my lap.
“Sutton.” Meave places her hand on mine.
“Meave, I don’t know what to do. I’ve had it all wrong.
Blamed him for things that aren’t his fault.
Built up this hatred for him an-and now I feel stupid.
” I place my free hand over my eyes willing myself not to cry.
I’m already crashing out on her biggest night of the year.
“But he won’t tell me anymore details. Won’t say who did start it.
Won’t talk about it. Do you think he’s protecting them or me? ”
“Have you asked?”
“Not exactly. I got scared.”
Meave leans forward, swiping at something moist on my cheek. Of course a tear, or ten, slips out. “Scared?”
What I say next comes rushing out of me. The dormant volcano inside of me erupts, memories and emotions are rivers of lava. “I don’t want to lose Cooper again, or one day he eventually decides I’m not good enough.”
“Sutton.”
“I know. I know. Those are irrational thoughts.”
“They are. You’ve always been enough,” she reassures me, “for me, Mom and Dad, Elliot, and Cooper. Always Cooper. And you never lost him because that pathetically obsessed boy never let go of you.”
That’s where I’m caught up. Replaying memories, before and after that day in high school, and trying to see them clearly. I feel like I need glasses or something to see them clearer.
Meave swipes at another tear.
“Shit, Meave, I’m sorry. I ruined my friendship with him and now I’m ruining your night.”
“You are not ruining my night, Sutton.” She jumps from the desk, smoothing her silky dress before helping me stand.
I grab a tissue from her desk and blot under my eyes, forever grateful for waterproof mascara. “Promise?”
“Pinky. I should probably get back out there though. You’re gonna be okay. Give Cooper and yourself grace. And don’t navigate this alone. I think he’d be okay if you leaned on him…or at least fucked it out of your system.”
“Meave!” I push at my sister’s shoulder.
“Oh come on. If the kiss was that good…just imagine it.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
Trust me, I have. Last night to be precise. Twice.
I jump ship to a new topic. “When do you leave for filming?”
“Not till May,” Meave plays it off casually, “but I met someone last week.” Lucky girl syndrome, I swear. “So I think I’m gonna bail.”
“Bail? After knowing him for a week?”
“Wait till you meet him.”
“What?! He’s here?” I squeak.
“Well, duh. He’s obsessed with me.” Meave walks us out of the office and in the direction of someone who looks like they could own half of the Chicago skyline.
Meave was surprisingly right. Her new crush is obsessed with her, and dinner was incredible. Cooper enjoyed it so much, he finished off my Buddha bowl.
“Sutton, do you want me to drive you back to campus? We can have a sleepover?” Meave asks me, tucking her to-go boxes into a brown paper bag.
Cooper glances at us across the table. Sly and inconspicuously. He’s trying to be a snoop without getting caught.
He is, but it’s not his fault.
He isn’t to blame for becoming a magnet. Drawing me to him whenever he’s in the room. I hate that this is how my current reality is. I keep waiting to wake up, but I’m not sleeping.
After Meave and I’s conversation at the art gallery, I’m coming to terms with the reality. Minorly. Searching for the words to tell Cooper, and to make sense of the emotions dwelling within me.
Standing across the room, I don’t know if I want to run for the hills or run to him.
“Can we plan a sister night for another weekend? Spring break? Cooper is going to drive me back.”