COOPER TURNED OUTto be phenomenally good at fake flirting.
For a guy who’d never even imagined such a thing until today, he caught up fast.
By dinner, he had tickled me, rested his chin on his hands to gaze at me, stolen my hat and made me chase him all around the lido deck to get it back, and laughed uproariously at more jokes than I had actually told. He also grabbed me while I was walking by and made me sit on his lap, threw me over his shoulder like some pillaging Viking, and gave me three new Josephine-based nicknames, including JJ, Jo-burg, and Pheenie.
“You arereallygood at this,” I told him as we changed for dinner back at our cabin—me, as always, in the bathroom with the door cracked, and him out in the room.
“I researchedflirtingon my phone,” he said.
“You’ve got a knack for it, buddy.”
“I do, don’t I?”
“I’m going to write you a kick-ass recommendation,” I declared, “for your next fake flirting job.”
We were supposed to dress up for dinner tonight. Sneakers and tank tops were banned, and jackets and ties were required. I was wearing another dress of Ashley’s, this one loose and silky and flowing—with spaghetti straps. It slipped on easily—no zipper required. I bent down to put on my most ridiculous pair of heels yet, and I heard Cooper say, “It physically hurts me to see you mutilating yourself in all these shoes.”
I’m sure I was about to say something deliciously witty, but when I lifted my head and saw him—it went blank.
Whoa. His hair was coiffed in that swooped-forward way he liked, and his tie was tied, and he looked neat and ironed and… truly handsome.
Ugh. I said it.
“What happened to you?” I demanded, looking him up and down.
Cooper eyed me. “What do you mean?”
“How did you turn into a Disney prince?”
“You think I look like a Disney prince?”
“I really do.”
“You think I look like a cartoon?”
“Not a cartoon like SpongeBob. Asexycartoon.”
“Pretty sure there’s no such thing.”
“Of course there is. It’s like when you watchLady and the Tramp, and you’re kind of attracted to the Tramp—”
Cooper squinted at me, likePlease be kidding.
“—and you’re like, ‘Nothing about this is right, but the heart wants what it wants’?” I pushed on. “You’rethatkind of cartoon.”
“I didn’t know you were attracted to cartoon dogs.”
His eyes were mocking, so I dug in harder. “Cartoon foxes, too. RememberRobin Hood?”
“That’s why you had that poster in your room?”
“Yep.”
“Of all the Robin Hoods, that’s your choice? Not Sean Connery, or Kevin Costner, or Russell Crowe?”
“I think I’m in the majority on this.”
He frowned doubtfully. “Live human men are losing out to cartoon dogs and foxes?”
