Chapter 26
Madeline
I didn’t change my clothes in preparation for Cooper’s visit. I wasn’t going to dress up for him when he might be coming over to give me the Let’s just be friends talk.
I may have reapplied my makeup and fiddled with my hair, volumizing it and spraying salon product that made it shinier, but I didn’t change clothes.
My father wasn’t home. He usually came home closer to seven, and today I was glad for that. The minutes ticked by. I knew it would take Cooper time to go to his house, drop Claire off, and drive over here, but even for that, he was taking a long time.
When the doorbell finally rang, I hurried to answer it, then straightened my shoulders and channeled every actress I’d seen playing a CEO. They never worried about getting their hearts broken. I slowed my pace and opened the door.
Cooper had changed clothes. Instead of jeans and a T-shirt, he wore khakis and a button-down shirt. Was he on his way somewhere else, and this was just a brief stop? A drive-by breakup?
For a moment, I forgot all about CEOs and stared at him. “Where are you going?”
He cocked his head in mock confusion. “Your house? If you’ll let me in?”
I opened the door wider. “No, I mean, what’s the occasion? Why aren’t you at work?”
He stepped inside and followed me toward the living room. “I gave my two weeks’ notice, and my boss told me not to come in.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Mom wanted me to. Since my dad’s friend isn’t charging him rent, she told him he should put what he usually paid in rent toward our utility bills and allowances for Claire and me. Mom drives a hard bargain.”
“I guess so.”
We’d reached the living room. I sat down and waited for him to tell me where he was going after my house. I immediately started nervously fiddling with my necklace until I remembered that CEOs didn’t do this.
Cooper sat down on the couch beside me, and his hands rubbed back and forth across his knees.
“It probably seems weird for you to hear me talk about utility bills, doesn’t it?
” His gaze circled the room, taking in the crown molding near the ceiling.
“You don’t even know what your utility bills run, do you? ”
“Yes, the answer to that question is ‘too much.’ At least that’s what my father tells me if I leave the Jacuzzi running for more than thirty seconds after I get out.”
Cooper didn’t smile at my answer. “A Jacuzzi.” He drew out the word, then tapped his fingers on the couch in thought, like hot tubs were an important topic.
“When I was in junior high, I saw one of the aboveground ones at a garage sale and told my parents we should get it. My mother said, ‘Do you know how much those cost to heat up?’ We didn’t end up buying it. ”
“You can come over here and use ours any time you want.”
He sighed like I wasn’t getting the point, then licked his lips and tried again. “Madeline, can you conceive of a world without hot tubs?”
I had no idea where he was going with this. “You mean like an alternate world where bubble-jet technology hasn’t been invented?” I shrugged and kept my voice light. “Sure, if pressed, I guess I can conceive of that strange dystopian place.”
His expression said I was still missing the point, but since he wasn’t bothering to clarify what his point was, I shut my eyes and put one hand on my brow. “In this awful dystopian world, the people are all frowny and sore . . .”
My eyes flew open. I was such an idiot not to understand what Cooper was telling me. He had sore muscles because he’d played a game Friday night where my date had repeatedly -tackled him, and he didn’t have a hot tub at his disposal to help with that.
I was partially responsible for those sore muscles. TC wouldn’t have been so aggressive if I hadn’t asked him to the dance and then told him I was fake dating Cooper.
I nearly offered our Jacuzzi again, but Cooper didn’t have a swimsuit, heating the water took time, and he was obviously heading somewhere after this visit. I could only do the next best thing. And the fact that he’d subtly asked for it . . . well, that was a good sign.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just realized what you meant when you asked me to imagine a world without hot tubs.” His world.
Cooper lifted his head a bit. “You did?”
I scooted over closer. “Turn and face the other direction.”
His brows dipped, but he turned away from me. I put my hands on his shoulders and began massaging them. I’d been right about his muscles. They were way too tight. I got on my knees so I could be higher and apply more pressure.
This was the least I could do to make up for TC’s tackles. And I couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of Cooper’s shoulders underneath my fingertips, enjoy being close enough to breathe in his cologne.
He wouldn’t have hinted that he wanted a massage if he was about to friendzone me. He wanted me to be this close, to feel my hands running over his back.
After a couple of minutes, Cooper said, “Okay, this is nice.” Then he added, “If I ask you why you’re doing it, will that make you stop?”
I slowed my kneading motion. “I’m doing it because you have sore muscles and don’t have a hot tub.”
“Oh. Right. Sure. That’s why I said that.”
He was totally lying, which meant I’d just randomly scooted over, told him to face the other direction, and forced a massage on him—like a girl who was hitting on him and didn’t know how to be subtle about it.
My hands fell to my sides. “If you weren’t asking for a massage, why did you say that stuff about not having a Jacuzzi?”
He glanced over his shoulder with an amused smile on his lips. “Just making small talk.”
I felt my cheeks flame. “Out of the blue, a girl starts massaging your shoulders, and you wait until now to ask why?”
His smile grew. “Technically, I never asked why, so you’re not allowed to stop.”
I slumped on the couch and pressed my fingertips to my forehead. “You thought I was hitting on you, didn’t you? Like that’s how I’d do it.”
He turned all the way back to me, laughing under his breath. “Seems as good a way as any.”
I picked up the couch pillow and smacked him with it, which only made him laugh harder.
I went to whack him again, and he grabbed my wrist. This led to a struggle, which I quickly lost. I found myself pinned on the couch, my head on the armrest, while he leaned over me, still laughing.
“How would you have hit on me, Madeline?”
“I guess you’ll never know.”
“Now I’m curious.” He released me and straightened. “Give it a shot.”
Strands of my hair had fallen in my face during our struggle. I pushed them away and sat up. “You want me to hit on you?”
He nodded as though it wasn’t a ridiculous request. “I did say that being in my debt would require certain duties. Plus, I keep seeing your acting methods. But how do you flirt when you’re not performing?”
I tried to think of some flirty retort. Nothing came to me. Turns out the worst way to come up with something clever is to have a guy sitting across from you critiquing your attempts. We stared at each other, growing quieter. He didn’t break eye contact.
I leaned forward. He’d asked for a demonstration, and I wanted to know where we stood.
This could accomplish both. I slid my hand across his cheek and into the tangle of curls above his ear.
Such soft hair. It seemed odd that his hair was so silky when everything else about him was strong and rugged.
As my fingers trailed down his neck, I closed the gap between us. My lips came softly down on his for one second, two, three . . .
When I finished the kiss, I lifted my head to see his response. He smiled lazily at me. “That’s how you flirt? Very direct. Right to the point.”
Was this all a joke to him? Was I just a punch line? I straightened and would have moved away from him, but he pulled me back to him. This time he kissed me. It was more insistent, longer.
One of his hands went to my waist, the other found its way up my spine until it settled at the base of my neck.
So this meant we were more than friends, that he wanted to be a couple.
Or maybe not. I’d already kissed Cooper two times before today. Maybe he just thought of me as a friend with benefits. I was not about to be that.
I pulled away from him again. “You came over here to talk. We should do that.” I wanted to ask if we were a couple now but didn’t want to be that blunt. “Where do you see us in the future?”
He took a deep breath and nodded as though he’d been expecting the question. “I’m pretty sure San Diego State will offer me a scholarship. A decent amount of NFL players come out of that college. I’ve got a chance.”
I quirked my head, not understanding.“I was thinking of a future a little closer to the present, like at school tomorrow.”
“Oh.” He took hold of my hand. “Tomorrow at school will be great. I was just bringing up college because if I make it to the NFL, I’ll be able to”—he rolled his free hand in the air—“you know, buy a Jacuzzi and not worry how much it costs to heat.”
I felt like we were having two different conversations. “I never realized Jacuzzi ownership was so important to you.”
“It’s not. I just meant that . . .” His gaze circled the living room again. “You’re used to all of this.”
Still two different conversations. “I grew up here, so you could say I’m pretty used to it. What does my house have to do with anything?”
He dipped his chin. “What I’m saying is that you’ve always dated rich guys. That isn’t me. At least not now.”
That’s what he was worried about? “I wasn’t dating them because they were rich. That was never the criteria.”
His eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Every single one of them drove a sports car.”
He knew the car types of my past boyfriends? “Circumstantial evidence. I’m much more interested in a guy’s personality. And his loyalty. And the way he makes me laugh. Also his kindness to strays. Looking good in shoulder pads is a plus.”
He smiled but didn’t seem convinced.
I nudged my knee into his. “You think I’m materialistic? That’s the problem?”
“It’s not that I think you’re materialistic. I just can’t forget that money is what my parents always fought about. It’s what broke them up. My dad never earned enough for my mother, and she had a lot lower expectations than you probably have.”
My dad and Ms. Nash had talked about their exes in the backyard when they’d been out s’moring that first night.
I’d heard them discuss the reasons things had ended.
And my father, who’d always been more than eager to pass on life lessons to me whether I wanted to hear the lecture or not, had made a point to use the Nashes’ divorce as just one more example in his arsenal of advice.
“Cooper,” I said, “your parents didn’t divorce because your dad didn’t make enough money. They divorced for the same reason my parents divorced, and my parents had more than enough.”
Cooper shook his head. “I heard the fights. They were all about money.”
I took his hand in mine, not because he needed the comfort, but because I did.
“The money was secondary. They were fighting because your father was never around. All of his jobs took him away for long periods of time. And when he once again chose oil rigs over staying with your family, she figured she was low on his priorities and decided things were over.”
Cooper stared at me for several seconds without speaking. “How do you know that?”
“My window faces the backyard, and when it’s open, I hear what people say at the fire pit. Don’t look at me like that. Listening doesn’t count as eavesdropping if your father reiterates points from the conversation later in an attempt to save you from future mistakes.”
Cooper let go of my hand and rubbed his jaw, his blue eyes disbelieving. “If that was the reason, why didn’t my mother tell me that’s why she filed for divorce?”
I shrugged. Who knew all of a parent’s reasons?
“It’s probably easier to claim irreconcilable differences than tell your kids they aren’t as much of a priority to the other parent as they should be.
” It wasn’t a thought I liked admitting.
“In my case, my father didn’t have to break that news to me since I’d already figured it out.
I guess that’s one of the downsides of wealthy parents.
You know your mom didn’t have to take a job in a different country to make ends meet. ”
Cooper leaned against the couch, though he still looked tense. “On Saturday night, my dad told me he’d just been trying to earn enough to make her happy. He was trying to be a good husband and father.”
“Apparently she would’ve been happier with more time and less money.” I put my hand on his knee. “He came back. That’s a really good sign.”
Cooper relaxed a little. “Yeah, it is.”
“All of that is to say, I don’t care whether you make it to the NFL or not. There are other careers you’d enjoy.”
He covered my hand with his, threading our fingers together. “What if we could never afford a Jacuzzi?”
“I’d live. But I would expect massages.”
Cooper smiled and leaned forward to kiss me. I pressed my hand to his chest to slow him. “Are we a couple now?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what we decided, isn’t it?”
Had we? The boy was bad at his end of the define the relationship talk.
I expected him to . . . I wasn’t sure what.
I knew he wouldn’t profess his love in sonnet form like Romeo did to Juliet, but I still needed more.
I lifted our still-twined hands. “Are you going to hold my hand at school?” I paused, knowing the answer.
“I mean, would you if you didn’t have that policy of no PDAs? ”
“I’ll hold your hand at school,” he said.
I blinked at him. “You will?”
“Yeah,” he said and gave me a kiss that was worthy of a sonnet.
Talking about our relationship, I decided, was overrated.
He finally raised his head and glanced at his watch. “You need to get changed or we’ll be late.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I made reservations at the Fire Grill.”
It was a sweet gesture but unnecessary. We’d just been discussing money, and he’d told me on the day we spoke backstage that he couldn’t afford that sort of restaurant. “You don’t have to take me there.”
“Our first real date should be special,” he said.
“It already is,” I said and kissed him again.