Page 52 of Well, Actually
What a stupid question. I’d change everything and nothing. I’d pick a different college and pick that exact same seat in that lecture hall. I wouldn’t give him my number and I’d trip head over heels all over again. Even with the hurt I’ve attached to the ending, I sometimes find it hard to regret how excited I felt to be with him.
Cooper’s arm brushes against mine, and I startle, expectinghim to readjust. But he leaves his bicep gently pressed against me. I don’t have enough fight left to lean away. After a pause, his hand inches toward mine, then covers it, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze where they rest on the dirty metal of his car.
“Will you get dinner with me?” he murmurs. I look at him, my expression a deranged twist of delight and horror. His eyes flick briefly down to my mouth, then back to my eyes, a slight twitch of satisfaction playing at the corner of his mouth.
My throat goes dry, pulse pounding and nerve endings rerouting to the feel of his skin on mine. “You’re my ride, I’m kind of beholden to your wishes.”
Cooper laughs, the sound rough and low. “This might be the only chance I’ll ever get to experience that. I better make the most of it.” He surprises me by releasing my hand and wrapping his arm around my shoulders, sliding me toward him. I let out a flustered yelp as he gathers me to his chest, tucking my head under his chin as he hugs me. I’m too surprised to move, to even breathe, the pounding of his heartbeat against my cheek matching my own anxious rhythm, encouraging me to run.
But he’s too warm and smells too good and feels too safe, and I sigh, melting against him, my arms snaking around his waist and holding him back. We stay like that for a moment, Cooper gently rocking us, the autumn wind twirling fallen leaves at our feet.
Too soon, he pulls back, looking down at me with a smile, his glasses slipping a centimeter down his nose.
If he kissed me right now, I wouldn’t push him away.
The thought is sudden and sharp, a flare in a midnight sky, red ink dropped in water. I shrug away from his touch and roughly push my hair behind my ears.
Whatisthis?Longing?Why do I want to take up a permanent residence in that crease between his eyebrows? Why do I have the urge to huff the scent of his skin until I pass out? I’m disgusted with myself.
“Do you like pancakes? There’s a great diner a few blocks from here,” he says, pushing away from the hood of the car and looking down the street, oblivious to the absolute shit show of feelings erupting in my brain. “We could walk. Although the clouds do look a little ominous.”
I shake myself, taking a deep, calming (hyperventilating-adjacent) breath, then step next to him, dropping into my most apathetic voice. “Why do you insist on wasting my time on questions with obvious answers?”
Cooper catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, making me watch how hard he rolls his eyes. I pull back from his grip, pressing my lips tightly together to suppress a smile.
“You’re just always so sweet, Kitten, wasn’t sure how much added sugar you could handle.”
“Ew. I think I just blew my back out from cringing.” With a haughty sniff, I take a gamble and start down the sidewalk to the left.
“You actually aren’t the first person to say that to me,” Cooper says, letting me get all the way to the street corner before looping his arm through mine and turning me around, leading us in the opposite direction.
I swallow down my embarrassment, trying to listen to Cooper as he keeps up a steady stream of chatter instead of focusing on the feel of his arm still threaded with mine. He walks us toward the pier, pointing out an ice cream stand that apparently has the best butter pecan, a kitschy gift shop withthe finest airbrushed tees, a gallery that once showcased his roommate Steve’s ceramic collection.
“I feel like you’d buy art off cruise ships,” I say when there’s a lull and I realize he’s expecting me to actually contribute to the conversation and not have a full-blown physical crisis because his elbow slit is pressed against my elbow slit.
“Oh,” Coopers says, frowning. “Thanks?”
“I meant it in the most derogatory way possible.”
“We’re here,” Cooper says with a sigh, holding open the door for me. “After you… you turd.”
I stop in my tracks, jaw crashing open. Cooper giggles as he breezes past me. “Did you just call me a turd?” I hiss, following him to a booth. “No one’s called me a turd since I was like, twelve.”
“See,thatI find genuinely surprising.” He gives me a winning smile. I hate that mine matches his. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Try not to make anyone cry while I’m gone.”
“No promises, baby girl,” I call to his retreating back.
A beat later, our waitress appears. “What would you like to drink?” she asks, popping her gum as she places menus on the table.
I purse my lips as I scan the back of the laminated sheet. “I’ll have an iced tea,” I say. Inspiration strikes. “And he’ll have a glass of skim milk.” I gesture at Cooper’s open seat.
The waitress’s eyebrows quirk but she says nothing, jotting it down and then walking away. Cooper slides into the booth a minute later.
“Miss me?” I ask wryly.
His smile is a quick twitch, almost bashful, and he keeps hiseyes fixed on the menu. I watch color creep across his cheeks, and I don’t know why mine share an echoing warmth. He clears his throat and looks at me, opening his mouth to say something, but the waitress is back with our drinks.
“Iced tea,” she says, setting it in front of me. “And, uh, skim milk.” She places a full, creamy glass in front of Cooper garnished with a single ice cube and a striped bendy straw. His eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open. “I’ll give you another minute to look at the menu,” she says before walking off again.
