Page 34 of A Scoring Chance
“You can relax, Beauty.” Cooper glances at me for a moment before reaching down and grabbing my hand, bringing it to his mouth, and planting a kiss on the inside of my wrist. “You look beautiful.”
I try to pull my hand away, but he threads his fingers through mine and rests our hands on the center console between us. “You know what my name is, correct?”
“I do, but I told you I prefer Beauty.”
I roll my eyes, knowing it is useless to correct him again. If he wants to call me something other than my name, he can have atit. I may or may not actually mind that he does it. “You sure you don’t want to at least give me a hint about where we’re going?”
“Positive.”
I huff, trying to think of the best way to at least convince him to give me a hint about where we are going. Not knowing things makes me nervous. Not so much nervous as I feel out of control. Some people would describe me as a control freak, but it’s more than that.
For the last six years, I’ve had to meticulously plan every aspect of my life to revolve around Darius and Ma. Doctor’s appointments, school breaks, parent-teacher conferences… If something needs to get done, it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone is where they need to be, on time and with everything they need. If you ask my therapist, she’d say it’s rooted in my fear of uncertainty and the desire for predictability in my life after a tragic event. She’s right, of course, but I’ve yet to tell her that.
“I hate surprises.”
“Define hate?” Cooper squeezes my hand slightly, his eye remaining focused on the road in front of him.
I pull in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This is what my therapist would call an opportunity to share my vulnerabilities with Cooper to strengthen our budding relationship, but do I really want to do that? I met Cooper a little over twenty-four hours ago. I admit I like him a lot more than I should, and if I want to have any chance of there being another non-date between the two of us, word-vomiting all my neurospicy tendencies on him during the first date isn’t the best idea.
“As in despise. Loathe. Would rather never have to deal with them.” I shrug, attempting to hide the tension in my muscles. “You could say I’m kind of a control freak.”
I wasn’t planning on just coming out and saying that, but it gets the point across. I have plenty of other mental things I deal with that are much harder to swallow than my need for control.
“We’re going to have lunch at one of my favorite spots in the city. Nothing too fancy.” Cooper peeks at me from the corner of his eye and smiles. “Is that enough information to appease your inner control freak?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I shake my head, turning my attention out the window.
We drive in silence for a while, but not the annoying kind people feel the need to fill. This is something comfortable, something that I haven’t had for a while. Usually, my mind is racing with everyone’s schedule and a detailed list of everything that needs to get done during the day or even the entire week. For the first time in years, my mind has been quiet. And Cooper is the person who gave that to me. No matter how this, whatever it is, turns out, I’ll always be thankful to him for giving me this. It’s the best birthday present I could’ve asked for, the one I needed the most.
“Why so quiet, Beauty?”
“Umm, because it’s nice?” I respond with a shrug. “I don’t have much time to just sit in silence. I’m always moving or making sure Ma and Darius have everything they need.”
“I can understand that. I’m the same way, taking care of Momma and my brothers.” If I wasn’t watching him, I wouldn’t have noticed him wince as if someone slapped him before he continued speaking. “But now that my brothers can take care of themselves, I have my teammates. Ever since I joined the league, it’s been all about practice and making sure everyone on the team has everything they need. Now that I’m not playing, I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself.”
“I get that feeling for sure, but why aren’t you playing this season? I mean, only tell me if you want to. I don’t mean to benosy. If it’s something personal, you don’t have to tell me. But if you want to, I’ll listen.”
“You’re so adorable.”
“Yes. So fucking adorable. I’m going to shut up now and look out the window.”
OMG, why am I so weird? All I had to do was ask my question and let him decide if he wanted to answer me. Instead, I word-vomit pretty much every thought running through my brain. Most people find that annoying, but for some strange reason that I’m moderately thankful for, Cooper thinks it’s adorable. Possibly proving that he has a few screws loose, as well, but I’ll take it.
After a few moments of silence, he answers. “I tore my ACL in the conference championship last season.”
Sounds serious, but sports isn’t my forte. I still don’t understand what that means or what it has to do with him being unable to play this season. “Break that down for someone who doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up as he shakes his head. “ACL stands for anterior cruciate ligament. It is a ligament that connects your femur to the shinbone, stabilizing your knee.”
I mash my lips together in a hard line, resisting the urge to say something asinine again. He must take my silence as a signal for him to keep talking. “It prevents your shinbone from sliding out in front of your thigh bone. Comes in handy for things like walking and basic movements.”
I wince, phantom pains shooting through my knee at the thought of something like that happening to me. “That sounds painful.”
“It was very painful. I had surgery that night and have worked my ass off to get back into shape to start the season.”
Wait, I’m still confused. He had surgery and has done everything he needed to do to get back on the ice with his team.So, why is he coaching hockey in Redwood Falls? Did he have one of those scandals like that soccer coach who used drones to spy on an opponent at the Olympics? My mind races as I think back to my late-night googling session, but nothing stands out. Not that I looked at much other than the images of him on the ice.
I should leave it alone and mind my business, but of course, my brain-to-mouth filter chooses this very moment to deactivate. “Probably a dumb question, but then why aren’t you playing?”
