I snort. “It is, in fact.”
“Then let me get to the point. We need to go on a date.”
“Do we?”
“Like Santa needs Rudolph in the middle of a blizzard.”
“I thought we weren’t … doing that,” I say.
“By that, you mean dating? I’ve asked you out fourteen times in fourteen days,” he says. “We both knowweare on different pages.”
“I thought you wanted to be careful.”
“Careful, sure,” he says. “I won’t make out with you at home plate during the middle of work. In a broom closet, on the other hand.”
“Are you trying to get me fired or yourself killed?”
“We both know Doug won’t fireyou. And I have nine years left on my contract.”
“So it’s a death wish then?”
“There are worse ways to go.”
Coop is incorrigible.
I am intensely attracted to that part of his personality.
I never went on a single date in high school. Not one. Even with my mom encouraging me to go to dances or try to put myself out there, the threat of the Fischer Men was too much.
College wasn’t much better, because my stupid brothers were there with me, and they made sure everyone knew I was off limits.
I went on a handful of dates then. I even managed to sneak in a few kisses with some accounting majors and an engineer, but let me tell you: not one of them played a sport. And none of the guys I’ve dated since have, either. Athletes are trouble.
I just wonder if it’s the good kind, or not.
“Keep dreaming, Buddy,” I say.
“I will, Sugar Plum.”
The day before Christmas Adam—December 22nd—I’m in my apartment pulling up a sugar cookie recipe, when I get a new text from Coop. It’s a photo of me at my kindergarten Christmas recital. I have pigtails, an emerald green velvet dress with tights, and I’m playing the triangle.
Cooper
Little Liesel is biiiiig cute.
Liesel
Didn’t I say you’re not allowed to look at Throwback Thursday posts??
Cooper
Too late. You are *working* this triangle. It’s my new phone wallpaper.
Liesel
Tell me you’re lying.
Cooper
