Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
SUTTON
The two hours I’m supposed to be spending with Dr. Manning this morning is useless.
It’s like that game, Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. Somehow, everything keeps going back to Cooper. Being around him isn’t easier either.
I’m plagued by our kiss. The faint, ghost-like feeling of his lips on mine that feel too real and have my fingers dusting over my mouth. Vivid, lucid dreams when I’m sleeping, and mind-consuming fantasies when I’m awake.
Are kisses supposed to be that good? Is good even the right word to describe it? Would foot-popping be better?
Dr. Manning dismisses me, clearly sensing I’m distracted. I pack up my stuff mindlessly, and say goodbye, at least I think I do.
“Sutton, wait up.” I stop, my loafers skidding to a halt in the hallway outside of Dr. Manning’s office.
“Hi.” He relaxes, pushing a hand through his blond hair, letting it linger on the back of his nape. His hair is freshly cut, the sides almost buzzed, revealing the tips of his ears that are turning pink. It’s strange feeling like I make a boy flustered…or want to chase after me.
“Zach.” I return his friendly smile. “How are you?”
“Better now.” The dry-fit long sleeve he’s wearing stretches across his broad chest when he inhales. “You’re a hard person to track down. Did you know that?”
I give me head a quick shake. “Well, you found me now.”
“Can I walk you to your next class? It’s next to mine…I believe.” The pink on his ears morphs to red and spreads to his cheeks. It’s cute. Really cute.
“Tracking or stalking?”
Zach laughs and butterflies spring to life from their cocoons inside me. “How’s your independent study going?”
My ears and shoulders perk up. “I didn’t know you knew about that…
” I trial off. Once again Cooper and that stupid kiss infiltrate my thoughts.
“Um. It’s keeping me busy with research and the paper portion, plus my case study is a bit more…
” Personally challenging? Unraveling me instead of his intrusive thoughts and anxiety?
“I get it.” Zach laughs nervously, and I hope he doesn’t get it. “Did you lose your phone?” he asks as we head through a bustling lobby and outside.
As expected, Zach holds the door for me. Then takes my bag as I pull out a beanie and scarf to twist around my neck.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been meaning to text you.” My apology is sincere. There’s a Post-it in my planner with an unchecked box that says text Zach.
“We can resolve that. Do you have your phone now?” I nod. He opens his hand palm up in a simple request.
I dig my hand into the center pocket of my overalls, dropping my phone into his palm. Zach taps the screen, turning it around to get my passcode. I have to slip my glove off to enter it. My phone unlocks, and he pulls up his contact.
“The baseball is a nice add. Thought you might have forgotten that other sports exist outside of hockey.”
I see what he’s asking between the words. He’s not talking about the sport, but Cooper. Zach doesn’t have a reason to ask or worry about him. I want to ask why he’s beating around the bush, but I don’t.
There are answers there, I don’t think I want to hear or face. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Cooper and I work this way.
What way is that? My heart taunts. She’s got a sarcastic little voice. Thinks she’s smarter than she really is—look at the mess she led us into before.
“I like emojis. Look at my contacts. Everyone has something that’s associated with them.”
Zach’s phone rings with a notification, the text he sent himself from me, before he rambles off contact names and the emojis next to them.
“Mom and a flower?”
“She owns a flower shop.”
“Meave and a paint brush?”
“My sister is an artist.”
“Do I even want to know why Jaxon is a trident?”
“Probably not. I’m also pretty sure he updated that himself.”
“Would I be able to update mine after a date? I have a baseball clinic I’m volunteering with this weekend, and we finish up pre-season two-a-days next week, but—”
“I’m free next weekend,” I interrupt, or unattractively blurt out, with an eagerness I’m going to tell myself is confidence.
“Friday?”
“It’s a date.” I have to suppress my excitement.
“I’ll text you our plans.” He wiggles his phone, giving me a wink.
Zach returns my phone, and I immediately add our date to my calendar, and send a quick text to Elliot that contains one too many exclamation points. We finish walking to class making simple small talk before we split to go to our respective classrooms.
I’m a robot heading to my unassigned but self-assigned seat.
I’m going on a date with Zach.
And while we were talking, I didn’t fumble over my words once! I was cool. He made a joke, I kinda made a joke back. He didn’t think my contacts were weird. I didn’t think about kissing Cooper once.
Because it meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was practice.
And I’m going on a date with Zach.
This is great. This is what’s supposed to be happening.
So why am I running my fingers over my lips?
Maybe I’ll kiss Zach on our date.
That’s one way to stop thinking about kissing Cooper. Because I’m not. I can’t be thinking about him like that. I’m not thinking about him, or his hand gripping my hair with the right amount of intensity that it blissfully hurt, or the sounds he let out when I bit his lip.
I’m not—my thoughts are cut off by a smoothie cup being placed in front of me.
“Elliot said you left in a daze this morning, and this was still in the blender.” I turn to find Cooper casually leaning onto the row of desks in the lecture hall. Elbow bracing his weight. “Thought you might be hungry.”
My stomach growls. Loudly.
Cooper sweeps his hand, pushing the cup toward me.
“Drink up. We’ve got more dating practice tonight and I don’t need my star student malnourished.”
I take a drink from the orange straw, and about choke.
Did he say practice?
My eyes whip to his, then his mouth.
“Not kissing,” he jokes. “But good to know you’re thinking about it.”
“I. Am. Not.” I make sure to enunciate each word.
“Why not? I am.”
Okay, so maybe I am, but it meant nothing, and I’m going on a date with Zach, and I need to be thinking about that. And I hate Cooper.
“Zach asked me out on a date,” I say as if it’s a blade or insult I can wield. Recentering the both of us with the purpose of this whole arrangement. “I said yes.”
“Oh. Cool. That’s cool.” Cooper goes tense. Jaw twitching and an unreadable expression takes over his eyes.
My professor announces the start of class, and before I get a chance to say anything else to Cooper, he disappears.