Chapter 40
FORTY
SUTTON
I swear, whenever I sleepover at Cooper’s, there’s always something happening in the morning. When we wake up, Jaxon is sitting and smiling brightly at us from the foot of the bed.
I rub my eyes to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“Gooooood morning!”
“Jax, what are you doing in here?” Cooper yawns, pulling the comforter up my body. It slipped when I sat up. “What time is it?”
“Five and it’s your birthday,” Jaxon responds. “You know what that means.” He pauses, waiting for us to respond, but half asleep, neither of us do. “Shots. Shots. Shots.”
“Make it stop,” I groan, pulling a pillow over my head.
“We don’t need to be up till seven…at the earliest.” Cooper sighs. “This can wait.”
“Wrong. You see, Dawson’s boyfriend, Jake, has soccer conditioning at six, and he spent the night here.”
The stupid birthday shot rule.
I don’t remember who started it, but it originated freshman year. Whenever it’s someone’s birthday, the boys take a shot first thing in the morning. Before practice, a game, class—whatever comes first, whatever time it may be.
Elliot and I somehow got looped into the festivities.
Luckily, Jaxon, Beckett, and Dawson’s birthdays are during the summer. We all still take a shot, but it’s not before the sun is up.
“Since when do we include significant others?”
“Since when have any of us dated?” Jaxon combats.
“We didn’t include my ex.” It comes out muffled because I’m still hiding under the covers. Cooper pinches my side.
“No one liked the loser.”
Beckett calls for us from downstairs. Chase opens the door. “You coming?”
“Two minutes. Get dressed.” Jaxon walks to the door. He grabs onto the edge, and glances back at us. “Soot, gotta tell ya, you look great in his bed.”
Cooper throws something at him, and Jaxon pretends to be scared, shutting the door behind him.
“Did you have to be born today?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I don’t want to do it.” I groan.
“Me neither,” Cooper agrees. “But it is my birthday and they won’t stop bugging us till we go downstairs. Come on, it’ll be quick.”
He pulls the covers off me. Eyes bulge at my nakedness.
“I got hot in the middle of the night.” I shrug.
“Expect the thermostat to be turned up every night.”
Cooper climbs out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, instead tossing one to me. I throw it on and tug up leggings from last night up.
Before we go downstairs, I curl into his lap. “Happy birthday, Superstar.” I give him a swift kiss on the lips.
He tries to confiscate more, but there is a pounding on his door and a summons from Jaxon. “Your two minutes are up.”
Downstairs, all of our friends—Elliot included—plus Jake are standing around the kitchen island. Shot glasses are lined up, and Dawson pulls a bottle of liquor from the freezer. He pours each of us a friendly-sized shot.
I slink in next to Elliot. “Sleepover with Chase?”
“I’ve told you before”—she boops my nose—“it’s not like that with us. We are just friends.”
“Friends who have sleepovers.” Another weird tradition that started freshman year. Completely platonic, so they say.
“Pot meet kettle.”
“I’m having sleepovers with my boyfriend.”
“You little slut.”
“That would be you,” I joke.
“Whateverrrrr. You happy?”
I glance across the island at Cooper. “That’s one way to put it.”
She slides an arm over my shoulder, hugging me. Our heads lean into each other.
“I love our little family,” she says quietly enough for my ears only as shots are dispersed.
Me too, I exhale.
I remember a time when I didn’t think I’d get to have this. Passed over by family after family.
“Happy Birthday” breaks out amongst the group. Out of tune, and definitely out of key, but no one cares. No one truthfully cares about the time either. There might be yawns floating around between lyrics, but there’s also smiles and laughter.
I may not have my biological family, but I have these people. I have Meave. I have Mom and Dad. I have the Carmichaels. Heck, I even have Dr. Manning. I have Cooper.
“And a pinch to grow an inch,” Jaxon hollers above the clinking of glasses. “Cheers!”
We all toss back the chilled clear liquor, grimaces on everyone’s faces.
“Way too early for this,” Jake says. “Why do you guys do this?”
“I don’t think anyone truly knows.” Cooper shakes his head, collecting the glasses and taking them to the sink.
Cooper and I went back to his room and slept for another hour. Or I did, he was up reading when I woke again—no Jaxon this time, the door was securely locked when we got back up here.
I roll over, loving the sight in front of me.
Lickable muscles. Bedhead. And all completely mine.
“Good morning, again, birthday boy.” I sit up, lean my head on his shoulder. “What are you reading?”
He closes the book, using a finger as his bookmark, to show me the cover. Smart man to not dog ear the page. I recognize it as one from my bookshelf.
“Isn’t this your favorite?”
“It is. When did you start it?” He’s about sixty percent of the way through the fantasy novel.
“Spring break. I took it from your room after one of our sessions. That okay?”
“Mhmmm.”
He keeps reading. I read over his shoulder, picking up where he left off. The next chapter is spicy, and Cooper giggles when he reads it, ears tipped pink.
I take back my earlier statement, cringing when he dog-ears the page, but forgive him instantly when he drags me to the shower to reenact the scene.
Cooper offers to wash my hair since my curls are already wet. The specialty products I use filling one of the plastic tiered shelves. He’s thorough, asking and memorizing the steps. Fingers digging into my scalp and temples with meticulous pressure.
We’re standing in the water washing off the soap lathered on our skin. Laughing between stolen kisses and touches when his phone rings, Dad’s photo popping up on the screen.
“Go,” I tell him. Cooper quickly rinses and hops out of the shower, towel loosely hanging on his waist.
I finish rinsing, grabbing the fresh towel on the bathroom counter. Walking back into his bedroom, Cooper’s folding a jersey, setting it on his dresser.
“Giving that to someone?”
“Would you want to wear it?”
“Wanna try that again? If you want me to wear your jersey, just tell me.”
A dimpled grin emerges. “I’d like my girlfriend to wear my jersey.”
They don’t have a game tonight, but conference play starts later this week. It won’t be the first jersey I’ve worn…but truthfully I can’t wait to wear his. Show off how proud I am of Cooper, how proud I am to finally be his.
However, we are still us, and I’ll never turn down a moment to keep him on his toes. “We’ll see, boyfriend.”
Lakeland’s NCAA conference changed its rules this year. The conference tournament for women’s and men’s hockey is no longer happening at a neutral site. Whoever is leading the conference is allowed to host.
It’s why the guys had a small break over our spring break. The university was preparing the arena for the conference tournament this weekend.
Downtown Bensen has also been preparing. I was supposed to run four miles this morning, but with weaving in and out of people grabbing coffee or shopping in our local stores, I added a half mile to my distance.
When I loop around, I stop at the Mean Bean to grab coffees for Elliot and me.
Classes have continued, no matter the commotion on campus all week.
Luckily for most, professors cancelled evening classes for students to attend tonight’s semifinal, single-elimination game. Our boys won the first round in a two-game sweep.
Unlucky for me, my human anatomy lab professor was not one of them. He isn’t, and I quote, a sports guy. I text Cooper before lab starts.
Good luck, Superstar
Cooper
Thanks, baby. You’ll be there after lab?
Wouldn’t miss it.
I bail early on lab.
Elliot waited for me before going to the game. By the time I’m back and have scrubbed the smell of formaldehyde off my skin and changed into Cooper’s jersey, we make it right as the game starts.
We’re sitting across from the benches, along the boards. We both kick our feet up, and Elliot balances a container of popcorn between her knees.
“Isn’t this the team Jordan’s ex plays for?” she asks, pouring an entire king-sized package of peanut M Cooper still can’t stand him.
The atmosphere between them is at least amicable, neither willing to risk the game, especially Luka. Minnesota has to win to make it to the NCAA tournament. Their season isn’t good enough to get an at-large bid.
That is, till Jaxon shows up. Skating by Luka, he nicks his shoulder before turning to stop in front of his face.
“What the fuck are you doing over here? Get back on your side, bellini.”
Cooper breaks them up. Dragging Jaxon away by the navy and white striped collar and back to where some of the team is stretching.
“Isn’t a bellini a drink?” Elliot leans over, stealing my bag of gummy candies. “He might want to work on his insults.”
“Luka is kind of fruity. I like it.”
Luka skates away, and Jaxon tracks the movement, keeping a carefully sharp eye on him.
The first line is taking their places. Jaxon in the face-off. Cooper’s on our side and moves slowly before getting into position, skating by us again. Against the glass, he makes a heart with his bulky gloves. He does this before every period.
I blow him a kiss. He catches it and drags it over his heart. Cooper skates up to the outskirts of the circle.
The puck drops, and we win the face-off, passing to Cooper.
He’s fast, zipping up the left side before cutting in toward the goal.
He fakes out the defenseman before gently pushing the puck between the guy’s skates and passing to our right winger.
Two people are on him as he maneuvers behind the net.
Minnesota’s goalie blocks their shot.
We dominate the first and second periods, keeping possession of the puck for most of the play. Only one of their fifteen shots on goal sneaks past the goalie. We’re up by one.
The third period doesn’t turn out much different, except for more chirping and Minnesota starting to play rough. Cooper takes a brutal hit to the boards, and Chase is hit with a high stick.
If fighting were allowed, one would have broken out when Luka charged at Beckett after he blocked a shot. One of our guys snatched the back of Jaxon’s jersey before he could throw hands.
The period ends up being scoreless.
But when the clock hits zero, the crowd erupts.
Students are jumping from their seats around us.
Elliot accidentally elbows me in the gut, and her hair smacks me in the face when she stands and throws her hands in the air.
I’m right behind her, standing and screaming for our guys.
They dog pile in the center of the ice, moving on to the championship game in two days, and at a minimum clinching a spot in the Frozen Four playoffs.