5. All Set
All Set
COOPER
I’d shoved my things into a gym bag. Yes, I called it a gym bag even though I’d never been to a gym.
Sue me. Really, lock me up and throw away the key.
Anything to save me from that muscled misery in gray sweatpants.
Jon hauled his own bag into the trunk, the cotton of his T-shirt straining against his broad shoulders.
His forearms flexed as he lifted it, the veins standing out against the ink.
Oh, look at my biceps, I’m so strong, woo-fucking-hoo . . .
Why was everyone staring at me? Did I say all that out loud?
I might have, judging from the way Jack snorted.
Jon didn’t say anything. As stony-faced as ever, he held his hand out for my bag.
I stared at his palm. Then I looked at him.
Narrowing my eyes, I tossed my bag into the trunk myself.
His evil hands were not touching my things, or me, ever again.
“Look at that,” I marveled. “I managed to lift my own bag. No bench presses needed.”
“Cooper,” Mom admonished. “Jon was only trying to be polite.”
“Sure.”
Mom had been right about Jon. He was both more ripped and more tattooed than before.
Everything about him was stupid, from his appearance to his personality to the way he smelled—annoyingly familiar, yet somehow different.
Richer and darker. The worst thing about it?
It was making it difficult to remember exactly why I was supposed to be so angry at him.
Crossing my own non-ripped, inkless arms, I glared at him.
“You missed a spot,” I said, the words dripping with sarcasm. I pointed at a stamp-sized bare sliver of skin near his wrist. “But if you give me a marker, I can fix that for you.”
Jon didn’t respond, but a muscle ticked in his cheek. Mission accomplished. It was just a flicker of annoyance, but I saw it and I relished it.
“Coop, can you not?” Jack cut in.
I shot him a look. It was nine o’clock in the morning, and he had the nerve to look like a CEO heir ready to take over the world. He was majoring in finance and was ridiculously excited about his internship at some fancy firm. I loved him anyway, even if he thought the sun shone out of Jon’s ass.
“I think we’re all set,” Jon said, closing the trunk. Those were his first words to me after a low grunt, which had apparently been his version of good morning. I hadn’t returned it. My morning was not good.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped. “This is my trip.” I yanked the trunk open, then smacked it shut again. It took a lot of effort, which just pissed me off further. “Now we’re all set.”
Jon’s eyes focused on mine. Let it be recorded in the annals of history that the butterflies creating havoc in me were not because of the steel in his gaze. This cursed situation was making me nervous, that was all.
“Really, Cooper?”
“Yes, Jon. Really.” I bared my teeth at him. Try me.
It didn’t have the desired effect of spooking him, but he did let out a long-suffering sigh, which I took as a win.
“I’m driving.” He held out his hand for the keys, his tone not leaving room for argument.
I didn’t argue—I slapped his hand away. The sting of skin against skin made my palm tingle and cheeks flush.
I hated how aware of him I was. What if this feeling never faded?
And why did he have to smell so damn good?
Standing under a tree when it rained. Having that first cup of coffee in the morning.
That level of good. Happy memories—that’s what he smelled like.
And my nose was called Brutus.
He gritted his teeth, and I had a sudden fear he’d pluck the keys from my hand and carry me to the passenger seat. He had done it before, taking advantage of our size difference and putting me on his shoulder.
I sprinted to the driver’s side before he could move.
“You’re not driving. I’m driving,” I declared, trying to overcome the annoying feeling he was letting me get away with something.
“Coop, knock it off. Don’t be a brat,” Jack said.
I stopped. Even Jon froze. The word hung in the air. I could almost see the letters: B-R-A-T.
“Jon’s doing you a favor,” my brother added, all ready to protect his bestie.
He probably felt guilty after talking Jon into this.
I could imagine their conversation too easily: Jack apologizing in advance for my existence, Jon pretending to be an altruistic road trip savior.
Maybe Jack had even tried to bribe him. No, he was almost as broke as I was, which was ironic considering his major.
We had more attitude than money in this household.
I let out a frustrated hiss.
“Yes, Jack, I’m aware. You keep saying that. May I remind everyone that I did not ask for this particular favor? That this favor was, in fact, forced upon me?”
That it was Jon who was doing the so-called favor stung the most. I knew this trip was the last thing he wanted—he probably felt obligated by some twisted sense of loyalty to Jack. Well, if he thought for one second I’d make this easy for him, he was delusional.
“Drive safely, you two,” Mom said, unbothered by the resentment in the air. She even gave us a thumbs-up. “Have fun!”
“Hah,” Jon said under his breath, but of course no one told him to stop being a brat. No, my family had put him in the box that was labeled Saints and Saviors. I was in the Spiteful Screwups box.
I started the engine, Grandpa’s Cadillac rumbling to life beneath us. As the car pulled out of the driveway and we waved goodbye to Mom and Jack, I gave Jon a sweet smile.
“Just so you know, you’re ruining this whole trip for me.”
“You think I volunteered to babysit you?” Jon shot back, not even looking at me. “My week is just as ruined as yours.”
Babysit. Wow. That was below the belt.
“My week is objectively more ruined,” I hissed, the fake smile vanishing. “You’ve ruined my whole life.”
Jon actually recoiled, as though I’d slapped him. For a heartbeat, a pang of guilt twisted in my chest. I thought about softening my tone, taking my words back. But what was the point? He’d earned every bit of my spite. Besides, he’d already locked the emotion down like it had never happened.
“This won’t be fun for either of us,” he said after a beat. “But we’re here anyway, so we might as well try to get along.”
Of course he was being reasonable. His calm made my skin itch.
“Sorry, can’t see that happening,” I said, flashing him a bright smile. “You can get along all by yourself.”
He raked a hand through his hair. He always kept it short, almost like a military cut. Figures.
“So you’re going to sulk the whole time?” he asked.
“What did you think would happen?” I snarled. “That I’d climb you like a horny squirrel?”
“Jesus. No. That’s not what I thought would happen,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. A tired breath escaped him. “Listen, we should talk about what happened—”
“No.”
“Cooper—”
“I’ll start screaming.”
“Which is exactly why we should talk about it.”
I screamed.
Jon clapped his hands over his ears. “For fuck’s sake!”
“I warned you.”
“I didn’t realize you were about to channel a possessed foghorn.” Damn. That was actually funny. Obviously I didn’t tell him that.
“Give me my snack bag,” I said instead.
He let out the most annoying snort. “A, I won’t if you don’t ask nicely,” he said, even as he reached for it. “And B, shouldn’t we at least leave town first?”
“A, you’re an ass, and B, it’s none of your business. Or are you suddenly an expert on snack etiquette?”
His jaw flexed again. Good. Maybe he’d dislocate it and then he wouldn’t be able to talk.
He rummaged through the bag. “Do you want the whole thing or something specific, Your Honorable Fucking Highness?”
I let out a sigh so hard it almost rattled my curls. “The raisins.”
He looked genuinely appalled. “I’d forgotten how twisted you are.”
“They’re covered in chocolate. Don’t be dramatic.”
“You’re calling me dramatic?” he said. “You’re the most dramatic person I know.”
“And you are the stupidest.”
He pulled the raisin bag out, but he didn’t give it to me. He held it just out of reach.
“I told you to ask nicely.”
The rasp in his voice went straight to my gut, strengthening the urge to win whatever game he thought we were playing. If he wanted to push, I’d fucking push. Keeping my focus on the road, I leaned closer and rubbed my shoulder against his. Jon went completely still.
“I need it,” I said as softly as I could. The hitch in his breath felt like a victory. Slowly, I turned my head. Big mistake. He was already watching me.
“Cooper.” He sounded dangerously close to how he had that night. I forced myself to remember—if there ever was anything between us, it had been destroyed.
I made myself sound small and vulnerable. “Please, Jon.” The plea slipped out too easily. Maybe it was weird to make myself sound like I was submitting over a bag of raisins, but I knew it would get to him. And I needed to win this round, because there weren’t many I’d ever won against Jon.
This time, his inhale was even sharper. He shoved the bag into my lap. “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice husky and strained.
“Do what?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“You know exactly what.”
“But you told me to ask nicely.”
He turned his head away, his profile stony against the window. “Yeah,” he said. “I did.”
I leaned back slowly, trying to ignore the way my body practically vibrated. I wasn’t sure if I’d won or just made everything worse.
“Help yourself to my raisins,” I said sweetly.
“Thanks, but I brought my own snacks. They’re delightfully raisin-free.”
“Of course they are. All protein and no fun. Like you.”
I caught the twitch in his expression.
“Make fun of me all you want,” he said. “I like eating healthy.”
“I know.” I smirked. “You’re all about discipline.”
“Stop.”
“Never.”
We were silent for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I’m not hungry anyway. Did you forget breakfast?” The question made my eyes sting. It sounded too much like remembering. Like I mattered to him. He had no right to act like that. Not anymore.
“No, I didn’t forget breakfast,” I snapped. “Like you care,” I added under my breath. Instead of reacting, Jon chose to sit in the passenger seat like a poster boy for stoicism.
There was a strange, persistent pressure low in my stomach, a craving that chocolate raisins weren’t going to fix. It wasn’t hunger, exactly. I didn’t know what it was but it made me restless.
“Must be the excitement,” I snarked. “Being stuck in a car with you. I feel so very blessed.”
Jon muttered a curse. This was going to be a very, very long trip.