Chapter 30
THIRTY
SUTTON
“Sutton!” Elliot calls for me from her bedroom. “Sutton, come here!” I rush into her bedroom, frantic as she barrels out of her closet. “You have to come. Whatever you have going on, reschedule it.”
Elliot tugs up a pair of teal blue leggings, matching cap-sleeved top. Grabs a brush from her vanity and immediately starts brushing blonde strands into a high ponytail.
“Come to what?”
“I completely forgot,” she groan-screams. “How did I forget about the biggest interview of my life?”
“Hey, hey. Stop moving.” Her hands freeze after finishing bubbling a section of her ponytail. “Deep breaths.” I motion for her to inhale and exhale. “Start from the top. What interview?”
Elliot takes another calming breath. “After my initial interview with that spin company Momentum they asked me to do a live ride with a full class. Some of their team are going to virtually take it.”
“And it’s scheduled for today?”
“Unfortunately. I swore I wrote it down.”
“What can I do to help? Is there a studio available?” She nods. “Okay, text your sorority and see if any of them can come.” I pause. “Here, toss me your phone, I’ll do it.”
I type in her passcode and pull up her pledge class group text. I put out a call for any volunteers. There’s an immediate response, phone pinging with ten that can come.
“We’ve got ten.”
She’s pacing, finishing grabbing her stuff to teach, and heads to the kitchen. I follow after.
“You’ll come, right?” Elliot asks, filling a water bottle up.
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”
I tap my phone that’s plugged in on the counter. I was sending Cooper another text before running to Elliot’s room.
He’s barely responded to me lately. Dropped off his mid-term evaluation, and I had hoped he’d stay, but he left with the guys. The season is wrapping up soon, and they are a few games from clinching the first seed in conference play.
He’s busy, that’s what I tell myself, but I can’t help thinking that I did something wrong.
I’ve been a ten-sided die with Cooper, rolled daily to determine my feelings. Anger, annoyance, confusion, insecurity, resentment, jealousy, disappointment, bitterness, loneliness, and longing. Most of the time, it was him rolling the dice.
But he’s never wavered from me. I’ve been coming to the conclusion and it’s overwhelming. Cooper has always found a way to choose me, care for me, maybe even love me, in big and small ways. I’ve been too blind, ignorant, to see it.
“Remind me what time?” I ask.
“Noon.”
My face falls. Shit.
Elliot notices and pauses applying the extra deodorant we keep in our junk drawer. “Everything okay?”
“I’m supposed to be meeting Cooper at 12:30. But—” An idea crosses my mind.
“What’s that look for?”
“What look?”
A manicured finger—one layer of funny bunny and two layers of bubble bath—swirls around my face. “That one. You are up to something, Sutton Elizabeth. Now, I want in.”
“How many spots are available in the class?”
She counts on her fingers. “The room holds forty. Minus you. Minus the girls. Twenty-nine.”
“Save them.” I sit up, check the calendar on my phone. “I’ve gotta go. See you in an hour!”
I’m about to fold in on myself when I make it to the arena.
My shoes were already ridiculous for this outfit, even more so for running.
I look down at the loafers, the only shoes by the door that I hastily slipped on before taking off, paired with my leggings and oversized crewneck.
At least my hair is pulled back with a thick headband.
The team is scheduled for lifting this morning. In—I check my phone—fifteen minutes.
The air conditioning that’s blasting in the building is a nice reprieve. That’s until my pace picks up, ankles aching with the start of blisters, sprinting down the hallway when I see Coach Mathieson dip into the locker room.
I pause in front of the door, music drifting out from the bottom. Am I really about to walk into the men’s locker room?
Apparently.
Gripping the metal handles, I tug the door open. Celine Dion and a scented plug-in that probably needs replaced hits me. There’s a small hallway decorated with posters of players before the main part of the locker room.
As I’m about to turn the corner, I stop and lean against the wall.
We can turn around and go to Coach’s office. We can…no we can’t. Elliot needs this, and you aren’t letting her down. You aren’t giving her a reason to—I let the irrational thoughts go.
If their coach is in here, this is the quickest way to speak to him. And see Cooper, my traitorous heart beats.
Again, apparently we are doing this. I start to turn the corner, and have to slap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from hysteria.
On a bench are a shirtless Jaxon and Dawson, swaying. Two hip pops to the right before doing the same on the left. It must be Jaxon’s solo because he’s singing into a deodorant microphone. Their shoulders start to mirror their hips.
I creep a step forward, hug the wall. No one has spotted me yet, and luckily, I’ve only spotted shirtless versions of them.
I inch another step inward as Jaxon belts the verse of Celine Dion’s “Alive” perfectly. With a wave of the deodorant in his hand, the remainder of the room joins in for the chorus. Some singing into their lockers. Some dancing while pulling on shirts, others waving them above their head.
From where my feet are glued to the floor, I can see two-thirds of the locker room. I weave my gaze around players till I land on him in the corner. Leaning back with his hood up, eyes closed, legs stretched on the bench.
Dawson takes over the bridge. Jaxon mouthing along.
I go to slip my phone from my leggings pocket, Elliot and Jordan have to see this, but it’s snatched before I can take a discreet video.
“What are you doing here, Dave?” Cooper asks, one brow arched and the smile I’ve come to expect, the one I think he only reserves for me nowhere to be found.
Replaced with a scowl and tight shoulders, I don’t recognize the frustration he’s greeting me with.
“You can’t just walk into the locker room.
You shouldn’t be here. You aren’t allowed to be here. ”
I ignore his acidic tone. “Are they singing ‘Alive’?”
“Didn’t miss that I see.” Again, I try to ignore how he’s speaking to me, bitter and condescending, but it hurts and confuses me.
“What’s next?” I ask in the lightest way possible. “‘That’s the Way It Is’?”
“Yup. Jaxon’s day to pick music.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I reach for my phone, and he holds it out of my reach, above his head. “When is yours? What do you pick?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh, come on.” I go for my phone again.
“I don’t.” He takes a step into my space. “Why are you here?”
Unintentionally, I lean toward him. Is that…why does he…no…that’s weird. My nose must be playing ticks on me. Mind too, overran by the extremely boyish atmosphere.
I take a deep inhale. No…that’s my detergent and lingering hints of cherry body wash.
Cooper’s wearing the sweatshirt I returned weeks ago. The one from the night of our practice kiss, when he picked me up and pulled it from the backseat when I shivered. I washed it, and maybe wore it once or twice, before giving it back to him.
“I need to speak to Coach,” I respond shakily, even more confused and stunned.
“He’s not in here.” Well he was. “Is it about me?”
“Yes. No. Well, sort of.”
“Which is it?”
Chase leans around the corner. “Hey, Sutton, what’s up?” he greets me loud enough that we gain attention. “Female in the house. Cover up!” he hollers.
There is a series of curses behind him. Cooper slips my phone into my leggings pocket, then covers my eyes.
“I’ve seen a penis before, Cooper.”
“Don’t remind me.” Whoever this moody Cooper is, their facade drops, and their response is pained, maybe even jealous.
“Oh, come on. Uncover my eyes.”
“No,” he growls. “We’re turning around and going to Coach’s.”
Somehow, he maneuvers me, keeping one hand suctioned over my eyes and another spinning me around. His body is flush against me.
I try to swallow, but it comes out as a choked cough.
He takes a step closer to me—how is that even possible? When I inhale, his chest moves with me. The hand over my eyes falls, outlining my face.
“Walk,” he commands. His husky voice barely over a whisper, but demanding.
“Why were you sulking in the locker room? Is everything okay?”
Our steps are in sync, and I hate it. I hate that they are so in tune we’ve become one.
It’s like my brain is a radio, and after our night together, its frequency is locked on him.
I can’t stop thinking about Cooper. I can’t get out of my head the way he called me Sutton baby, dropped in between pants and groans.
The feel of his mouth on me is a ghost haunting my skin.
Whenever a breeze dances across me, and I have to check that it’s not him.
At night, I find myself wound up with no luck at a release. My body knows—and craves and desires and wants to indulge—and he might know too.
Cooper stops us. A strong hand splays across my hip. The cotton of my sweatshirt slips between his fingers as he bunches it.
He releases me, but his eyes betray him, telling me he doesn’t want to.
Jaw clenches and shifts, teeth grinding together. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Enjoying myself? “What are you talking about?”
“Having the attention of two guys? Does he know what you were doing that morning before you were with him?”
With him? Who is him? I haven’t been with anyone except Cooper…
Cooper scoff-laughs. “I saw you with him!”
I run through the Rolodex in my head. Him has to be Zach. “It wasn—”
“Don’t lie, Dave.”
I’m not sure how to feel right now. Angry?
Confused? Hurt? The implications gut me.
Even on my worst days, when hating Cooper was easier than breathing, I’d never do this to him.
I’d never play him, especially now. Especially when—there it is again.
It’s like a stone or some sort of speed bump that keeps me from admitting the truth to myself.
“Have you been thinking about us?” Cooper asks, hand forming a fist then uncurling and flexing.
The lie rolls off my tongue smoother than freshly Zambonied ice. “No.”
Cooper shakes his head while running a hand through his hair, pulling at the grown-out strands. A muffled, unrecognizable sound escapes him.
Another part of my heart breaks off as I watch something in him shatter…or maybe harden. Am I being tucked away in the box he keeps hidden in his head? The one that weighs more than it should.
Standing here, the physical distance between us is barely two tiles, but the emotional distance has never been farther. But I push him away. My heart is screaming at me, rapidly beating, threatening to stop.
He lets out a singular saccharine laugh. “Then, no, I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay because I know I’ll never really be yours. Not in the way I want.” Cooper spins me to face him. “Tell me, how should I be okay?”
My eyes flare. My thighs tighten, squeeze together.
My bad knee locks—and for a split second, I think it’s going to buckle on me.
Give out. Give up on me, same as my traitorous heart, and shoulders pulled together like someone is tying a bow.
There aren’t tile floors beneath me, but fresh cement keeps me in place.
How should he be okay?
How am I supposed to be okay?
Cooper scrunches his eyes together. Dark, midnight dipped eyelashes meet his cheeks. His chest rises and falls, pecs pressed against his tight, spandex shirt.
“Boundaries. You told me I needed them.”
Boundaries. That word rings in my head and snaps mine back into place. Every single one that I put in place over the years. I’m reminded that he pushed them. He never cared for mine, so why should I?
Because you care for him, my heart beats.
“And I’m a boundary.” My voice is monotone. Doesn’t shake, doesn’t waver.
“You have to be Sutton. It’s killing me. You’re killing me. I can’t help you fall in love with someone else when I l—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t tell me.” If he does, then it’s real, and I don’t know if there’s an AED or doctor out there that could restart my heart. I want to tell him, but I don’t.
I feel something wet on my cheek. Quickly, I wipe it away.
The battle waging inside of me feels like I’m on a Tilt-A-Whirl.
“I’ll find someone new for my study.”
Cooper shakes his head no. “We are almost to the end. I’ll finish it with you, but besides that…” He trails off, digs his teeth into his bottom lip as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying what he ultimately ends up saying. “I’m done.”
“Okay.” I swallow our reality.
We stare at each other. He blows out a breath, chews on the inside of his cheek.
He spins on his heels, leaving me to my quest for his coach’s office.
I watch him walk away. A part of me is hopeful he’ll glance back at me, but he doesn’t. Which is good—it has to be good.