Page 5 of Well, Actually
“Fine! Sorry for speaking the truth!”
“I’m emailing you the link to the GMeet,” she responds, her keyboard clacking in the background for emphasis. “Please, whatever you do, do not make this worse.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel better in a crisis.”
“Sorry I’m prioritizing my job and ability to financially sustain myself over your feelings. It must be hard not to be the center of everyone’s universe. You can cry about it later.”
“I really appreciate the apology, it’s a good start,” I say with as much false sincerity as I can muster.
Aida is so caught off guard that she actually does let out a surprised laugh that turns into a groan. “You’re a dumbass. See you in a few minutes.” The line goes dead.
Women supporting women, am I right?
I resume my pacing, my phone continuing to erupt withnotifications, a tiny bomb in the palm of my hand… Then again, I’m the one who blew up my life last night.
With a mortified moan, I drop to the floor, back pressed to the edge of my bed and head cradled in my hands as I try to untangle this mess. The reality of my history with Cooper trickles in, memories I haven’t looked at closely in years.
We both went to Breslin University, a small liberal-arts college in upstate New York that produces a new class of pretentious forward thinkers each year who inevitably move to the city, making Manhattan the world’s busiest small town.
It all started simple enough. Cooper was a year ahead of me, but we met in a humanities lecture his final semester. It wasn’t a full class, but the professor was chill enough to not make us cluster at the front of the auditorium, and everyone spread out.
I claimed a seat near the back, next to a wall to lean on as I took notes. I was absorbed in the presentation on the history of botanical symbolism in feminist art of the ancient world when the auditorium door opened behind me, closing with a loud click and a whispered curse. The tardy student shuffled to the row behind me, and I rolled my eyes as he conspicuously rifled through his backpack, cursing again. A few seconds later, his chair squeaked as he leaned toward me, and I pursed my lips into a scowl in anticipation of the next disturbance.
“I get the vibe that you already hate me,” he whispered, close enough that my deep breath was filled with the scent of him, peppermint and January wind. “But is there any chance I can borrow a pen and some paper?”
I turned my grimace on him, ready to make him coweraway with the force of it, but something about those earnest gray eyes trapped me like a snare, blanking my brain as I took him in. Cooper didn’t wear glasses back then, and I was hit by the full force of his looks, nothing softening the blow. There was a lazy mischievousness in his slouch, hands loosely resting on the back of the seat next to me, forearms coated in a fine dusting of hair and a map of veins and lean muscle.
His lips curled at the edges as he stared back, openly admiring me, glower and all. Silently, I held out my paper and pen to him. His gaze flicked to my offering, then back to my eyes, a glint sparking in his like flint on steel. I’m sure he knew then and there he had me.
It was only after he slipped the items from my grip that I realized I was handing over my notes and only tool for taking them. At the end of the lecture, I gathered my backpack in a rushed fog, needing to get some fresh air to unhaze my brain. He stopped me, of course, gently touching my elbow as I moved to walk down the aisle.
“I’m sorry if this is way too forward,” Cooper said, that glimmer of humor still in his smile, “but would you like to get a mall massage with me?”
I gaped at him. “A… a massage?”
He gave me a loose shrug, smile growing. “I couldn’t help but notice that your shoulders looked very tense during the lecture.”
I was silent for a moment. “You want me to get a massage at the mall with you?” I repeated incredulously.
That shrug again. “We’d need plane tickets to get an airport one, though I do agree they’re of a higher caliber.”
“You’re weird,” I blurted out. My face heated at calling such an objectively hot guy weird, but facts were facts.
He laughed as I scuttled away, calling out, “Maybe next week, then?” as I darted out the door.
It took three weeks of coaxing before I finally gave in to Rylie Cooper’s bizarre form of charm.
I can still remember the creak of his lecture hall seat as he’d lean forward during presentations, the warmth that would flood me when he’d drape his arms on the back of my empty row, a smile in his voice and his breath on my cheek as he’d make some sarcastic remark or unhinged joke that would have laughter bursting out of my throat that I’d try to disguise as a cough when heads would turn.
Of course I gave him my number, and texting him was a similarly outlandish and addicting experience. It wasn’t long before I was waking up to a good morning message and offbeat date invite that I’d decline, using the excuse of classes and also not wanting to set myself up to be featured on aDatelinespecial for fraternizing with him. I didn’t have a lot of game back then, but even young and naive me could tell how much Cooper loved the chase, and I loved the thrill of being in the center of his crosshairs.
We quickly became friends. Granted, the kind of friends who primarily wanted to fuck each other, but I still liked the asshole. Started looking forward to his texts. Enjoyed spending time with him, eventually relenting and getting coffee after class, going grocery shopping with him at midnight.
But as fun and strange as he was, and as dazzled as I became by his attention, he was also moody, going radio silent for days, leaving me on read, being as cold as a marble statuebehind me in a lecture while I waited with bated breath for him to whisper something in my ear. By March, he was missing classes frequently, and I’d spend the hour poised like a hopeful tripwire for the sound of him coming in late or sending me a message to explain his absence.
The more he pulled away, the faster I fell head over heels for him in that way that feels as natural as breathing when you’re twenty-one and untaught and it’s the first time anyone shows interest in you, then snatches it away. In a panic that I’d lost his attraction, I cornered him after a class he’d spent ignoring me.
“I’ll go on a date with you,” I’d said, trying to keep my tone even and bored despite the pounding of my pulse in every joint of my body.
