Page 94 of Until Next Summer

I shake myself and force a smile. “I’m right here.”

He narrows his eyes. “You promised honesty,” he says, his voice low. “What’s going on? You sort of…closed down there.”

I sigh. “It’s nothing. I was…thinking about something a camper said a few weeks ago.”

“Which camper?” By the tone of Cooper’s voice, I have a feeling he already knows.

“Her name is Olivia. She’s from Boston.”

Cooper takes his hat off and runs a hand through his hair before putting it back on. “What did she say?” His voice is hard, and I wish I’d just made something up. But it’s too late now—I’ve ruined this lovely date night, and the only way out is through.

“She said…yousleptwithanythingwithapulse,” I say, the words coming out in a rush.

Cooper flinches, like I’ve slapped him.

“I didn’t believe her,” I say, reaching out to take his hand in mine.

“You should have,” Cooper says. He clears his throat and is quiet for a moment before he continues. “It’s true. Not that I’m proud of it.”

“We all have things in our past we’re not proud of. Trust me, I have regrets, too,” I say, eager to get the light and breezy feeling back.

He stays quiet for an excruciatingly long time, staring at our hands, our fingers intertwined. He doesn’t look up as hestarts to speak. “Remember that magazine spread I told you about?”

I nod, wondering if I should admit to googling him and gawking at the image of him and those abs. But then he looks at me with so much pain in his gray eyes that I can’t risk saying anything that would hurt him more. I want to crawl into his lap and bring his smile back, but I know Cooper isn’t going to let this go.

Stupid honesty.

“I should go farther back,” he says. “You know I was a bigger kid. Fat.”

“You were cute,” I say, protective of young Cooper, the boy I shared my first kiss with.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” Cooper says, and I zip my lips. “But at the time, I didn’t feel cute. I was king of the friend zone, and I thought I might die a virgin. I told you I had a growth spurt when I turned seventeen, but I didn’t tell you that earlier that year, I overheard two girls in my class calling me a ‘dick-do.’ ”

I make a face, not sure what that means.

“My stomach stuck out farther than my ‘dick-do.’ It was stupid kid stuff, but it hurt—after that, I started counting calories and working out obsessively. By the time I graduated high school, I’d lost eighty pounds and gained some muscle. I kept it up over the next couple years and really started enjoying it. When I went to culinary school, I dated a bit, but inside I still felt insecure.”

That explains the green smoothies and why he’s so regimented about what he eats. I start rubbing circles on the back of his hand with my thumb. A spark of comfort so he knows I appreciate him opening up like this.

“When that magazine spread ran—” He pauses and blows out a breath. “It brought a lot of attention. At the time, I thought it was great. Everything a guy could ever hope for, right?”

He huffs out a sad laugh, and I squeeze his hand. “What happened?”

“Well. All those women wanting me was addictive. I kept chasing the high, hooking up with a different woman every weekend. Eventually, I realized that once that initial rush was over, I’d end up feeling…empty, I guess. I stopped liking the person I saw in the mirror. Started feeling ashamed of him.”

He stops talking and looks down at me. “So. You still glad you’re hanging out with me tonight?”

“Of course I am,” I say honestly. My heart aches for him, for the sweet, chubby kid he was and the man he became. “But just because youwerethat guy doesn’t mean you have tostaythat guy.”

He shakes his head. “What’s that saying? A leopard can’t change its spots?”

“You aren’t a leopard, Benjamin Cooper. And one of the coolest things about being a human is that we have the power to reinvent ourselves. Seriously, look at this date—you took me on a picnic and packed my favorite foods, even though it totally goes against your professional standards.” I gesture to the basket. “That’s incredibly sweet. And thoughtful.”

“Well, you’re easy to please,” he says, but he does crack a smile.

I shift my weight, facing him. “Listen, before this summer, I’m not sure I liked myself, either. I mean, I had the life I always wanted. My business was doing great; professionally, I was in demand; and I was dating the ‘right’kind of guy, but I felt empty inside, too. I was so focused on achieving the next thing. I can’t remember the last time I sat in the woods and had a conversation and just…enjoyed myself.”

He leans back on his hands, appraising me. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

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