Page 84 of The Most Perfect Wrong

RYAN

I stare at the text I sent an hour ago, willing it to vibrate with a new message.

Ryan:Can’t wait to see your beautiful face on Monday.

I just got home from another “date” with a girl named Megan. And by date, I mean I spent an hour at a bar, listening to Megan talk about herself while I nodded, asked questions, and thought about Cooper the entire time.

Now, I sit at the kitchen counter with a beer, with only the lights from under the cabinets on, the rest of the house dark. Leo and Vivian are out of town, still in Utah visiting her family for the holidays, so I have the house to myself. I came home New Year’s Day—a rough travel day after partying with friends the night before.

I glance at my phone again and groan. God, what am I doing? Why can’t I just go to bed? It’s pathetic, sitting here with my beer, waiting up just in case Cooper texts me back. But I opened this beer, so I should finish it. I turn onThe Officeto distract myself.

Twenty minutes later, close to midnight, my phone buzzes.

Cooper:Hey. You up?

Relief floods through me.

Ryan:Hey, yeah, I’m still awake.

I try to play it cool, like I haven’t been sitting here waiting for her text.

Cooper:Can I come over?

What?If there was ever a bad idea, it would be Cooper coming over.

Ryan:Are you being serious? Or is this just flirty texting…?

I’m so confused.

Cooper:I’m outside. I think. Wheich honestly is yours isnt due.

Now I’m really confused. I watch the texting bubble pop up again, telling me she’s typing.

Cooper:Sorry in a little drunk.

I frown at my phone. She’s drunk?

Cooper:Can you come outside?

Cooper:I think I’m on street.

What the hell? I grab my coat and shoes, heading out quickly. I scan the row of townhouses, about to call her when I hear someone shouting.

“Ryan!”

I follow the sound and spot her walking along the trail in front of the townhouses near the river. She’s bundled up, and rolling her luggage behind her. A mix of emotions flood through me as I hurry toward her.

I have so many questions.

“Jesus, Cooper, what are you doing out here? It’s fucking freezing.”

She bulldozes into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. “I just needed to see you,” she murmurs, her words slurring.

I pull her close, steadying her. “What happened? Why are you drunk and out here alone?”

The thought of her wandering the streets of downtown Chicago—drunk, in the middle of the night—it kills me. The streets are almost deserted with the brutal cold, and anything could’ve happened.

“Brad knows,” she says with a heavy sigh. “He knows all the things.”

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