Chapter 6
SIX
COOPER
The puck whirls behind the goal, unlike my thoughts of Sutton, I can’t pass them off to a teammate. I can’t restart the drill from the top.
Since classes started earlier this week, I’ve waited for her on the lawn, outside the psych building, and in the lobby of her apartment building.
Trying to find a way to convince her to let me do this project with her.
Sutton is right. I need to do this for me, but she’s also wrong.
I can and want to do this for the both of us.
A couple of scouts are at practice today for two seniors hoping to be free agents.
Skating back to the other offensive players to switch drills, I overhear them mumbling about me.
My head swivels over them at the first drop of my name, but Coach puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. Pay attention, ignore them.
Ignoring them is easy. Ignoring the corner of my brain that their presence and words scratch? Decapitating.
I speed off the ice when practice is called. My safe place, my haven, is the one place I don’t want to be right now.
My teammates can’t see me spiral out.
My ribcage feels like a prison. Each beat of my heart or thought that floats by is like being slammed into the boards.
No one follows me into the locker room.
Swiftly, my skates are unlaced and I’m changed. I bypass a shower, grabbing my bag, and heading out.
Jaxon’s voice echoes in the hallway to the lobby of the hockey arena “Cooper,” he calls out again. It’s muffled by my speed, the distance, the low buzz between my head.
The fresh air outside hits me like a tidal wave. I suck it in. Try to fill the space in my lungs. Gasp, again.
I smack a hand to my chest. Pause for a moment when I catch a glimpse of her car.
Sutton looks out the driver’s window, our gazes locking.
My next breath is easier, smoother.
She parks, but I’m in my car now.
The time between getting into my Jeep and Jaxon opening my bedroom door without knocking is a blur. His phone is pressed to his ear as he jumps on my bed next to me.
“Is this new?” he asks, pulling the phone back and picking up my comforter.
“You ask that every time you come in here.”
He shrugs his forgetfulness off. “Do you want to go over to Elliot and Sutton’s tonight?”
“Stop inviting people over,” I can hear Elliot gripe through the phone.
Jax rests his phone on his exposed thigh—the guy runs warm, never wearing pants even when it drops below freezing—tapping speakerphone. “I’m only inviting Cooper!”
“Which means the whole lot of you will also tag along.”
“Beckett doesn’t hang out with us anymore. Cooper barely does either.” He turns my way and pins me with sad puppy dog eyes. Deep in his forest eyes though is the lingering question of why.
The past few months have been the heaviest I’ve felt. Painting a smile on my face and showing up how they’ve needed me is more draining, and I find myself turning to silence and being alone more and more. I’m careful about disappearing, but apparently not careful enough if he’s noticing.
Have they all noticed?
Beckett has a valid excuse for not hanging around with us. He’s from around Bensen, and goes home to help out his sick mom with his little sister.
A door across the hall cracks open, and our six-five goalie leans in my doorway shirtless. His chest is covered in black tattoos. There’s a spot on his right arm covered in Saniderm, fresh ink that he’s definitely not supposed to have gotten during season underneath.
“I can hang tonight,” he says casually.
“See!” Elliot exclaims. There’s whispering in the background.
Jaxon points at Beck. “Now that’s definitely new. What is it?”
“I’m going to pick up my sister from basketball practice. Text me the plans.”
“You should go shirtless for the moms! Isn’t someone supposed to bring snacks each week? You could be the snack,” he jokes while Beck stares at him emotionless before pushing off the doorframe and closing his door.
“If you come over, you have to bring pizza,” Elliot finally says.
“Done. Cooper will pick it up.”
I smack his arm. Give him a look for volunteering me, and push a hand through my hair.
Elliot must have put her phone on speakerphone too because we can hear their conversation clearly. “Yeah, pizza is good,” Sutton says, barely audible. It’d be easy to miss but my ears have a frequency reserved for her.
“What kind do you want?” Elliot asks Sutton.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll eat cheese or pepperoni. Whatever he gets is fine.”
“You sure?”
“It’s pizza.”
“Okay, get whatever, Coop,” Elliot tells us.
“See you in an hour?” Jaxon asks.
“Perfect. Byeeeeee.”
Jaxon hangs up and turns over on my bed. He rests his head on a closed fist, elbow digging into the bed. “You okay, man? You stormed out of practice. I was calling for you, and then when we got home, you were asleep.”
“I think I ate something weird,” I lie. I hate lying to him—to any of my roommates, but they wouldn’t understand, and what would they think about me?
Ungrateful. Selfish. Spoiled. Or worse…maybe they’d agree.
His face brightens, then falls with horror. “Did you eat one of the green containers? I had one for breakfast and thought it smelled funky. Was good with hot sauce on it, but we should tell Dawson.”
“Yeah, that was probably it.”
“Feeling up for tonight? I can grab the pizza.”
“I’ll get it.”
“Sweet. Request me and I’ll split it with you.”
I nod, but I won’t request money from him.
YOU’RE PUCKING AWESOME
LOML JAXON
Chill @ E+S’s tonight?
Dawson
Out with Jake. Cool if he crashes?
LOML JAXON
Grab wine and beer on your way over (:
Becky
We have an early morning tomorrow
LOML JAXON
What does that have to do with beer?
Chase
baby b is boring. doesn’t want to be hungover
Dawson
Who is Baby B? I thought he was made up.
Becky
Fuck off.
*Becky has left the group text*
*Chase has added Becky to the group chat*
Chase
something lite please baby
Sutton will want savyb
LOML JAXON
I swear I’m naming my future daughter Savannah Beth and calling her Savy B
Becky
Since I can’t leave the group chat, I’m moving out
They keep giving Beck shit. He’s the quiet one—sort of a grump.
Communicates in eye rolls and grunts, so even getting thirteen words out of him is impressive.
Dark black hair, trimmed close to his head.
His broad shoulders and thigh-sized biceps are covered in tattoos.
It’s cute in the mornings, though. He comes down the stairs, silent like a mouse, into the kitchen to make an Americano, wearing his glasses.
Ignoring them, I dial the only pizza place near campus as I start my car.
Antonio’s is a family-owned restaurant that has been in town since 1960.
They deliver a well-crafted East Coast style pizza, but their Detroit style is better.
I order two extra-larges of each type with an array of toppings. Plus, an order of dry-rubbed wings.
Who knows when my roommates ate last. Not like that matters anyway—they probably ate after practice, and are still empty pits.
“Yeah, you’ve told me five times. Now, don’t be an ass. The pizza is getting cold.”
Elliot is threatening to not let me in because I’m late. I guess threatening cold pizza is her limit. The door clicks to unlock and the light flashes green. Using one hand, balancing the pizza in the other, I finagle the door open. Rinse and repeat when I reach Sutton and Elliot’s door.
Pretty proud of myself for not dropping the pizza. Almost did getting out of the elevator, my Birkenstock clogs catching on the metal gap.
“Beer in the fridge,” Dawson calls from the couch as I set them on the counter. Separating them into smaller piles.
I grab two beers—one for me and one in case anyone needs another.
Everyone is in the living room. Jaxon, Elliot, Sutton, and Beckett are on the couch. Chase is lounging on the couch in front of Elliot, twiddling with something on the coffee table.
“What happened to the couch?”
Where the campus-issued, blue-gray, patent leather couch used to be is an oatmeal-colored, linen, J-shaped couch.
Plush and appears far cozier than what they used to have.
I don’t even bother taking the open spot next to Sutton, even though it’s gotta be more comfortable than the floor spot I head to.
“Too angular,” Sutton says while Elliot chirps, “Uncomfortable. We—I convinced the building manager to take it to storage when I found this on Facebook Marketplace. The guy let me have it for a hundred bucks. A steal!”
“A steal, or did you flirt?”
“Does it matter?”
Before I can sit down, Sutton stands, and I follow her back to the kitchen. In the cabinet next to the microwave, she pulls out plates.
Back to me, Sutton quietly mentions, “You’re off the hook. I found someone else to work with.”
“I told you I would do it.”
“Well now you don’t have to.”
I shake my head, trying to not let my disappointment show.
I flip open a box of pizza, taking the top plate and slide two slices onto it, and open a ranch cup. Sutton is staring at me when I face her and offer her the plate.
“That’s not cheese or pepperoni.”
It’s not. It’s her favorite. She hates admitting that she likes pineapple on pizza. When I ordered the extra pizza, I debated asking for a bag of M&Ms too. Write out I’m sorry on it, then she’ll know how deeply I mean it.
“Right, it’s pepperoni and pineapple with hot honey.”
“No one else likes pineapple.”
“But you do.” I don’t hate it, it’s not my favorite flavor combo, but I know no one else will eat it. I’ll pick off the pineapples once they become unbearable.
“You didn’t need to do that.” She takes the plate, then mumbles, “You don’t need to do anything for me.” Her words don’t match the tenderness in her voice.
“You know, a thank you would suffice.”
Big hazel eyes peer up at me. There’s a softness in the rivers of green that branch out across her iris. Flecks of gold that draw me closer to her, I can feel my body shift in her direction for a better look, a need to count each one.