Cooper came closer to look me over. “No hat? Nothing?” he asked, hoping for a different answer.
“Nothing,” I said.
I turned toward the mirror. I did look a little pink. And, now that we were noticing it, I felt a little pink, too.
Then Cooper nodded like a doctor with a diagnosis. “First,” he said, “Tylenol. Then take a lukewarm shower to get the salt water off before it starts stinging too bad. Did you bring aloe?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll check the gift shop. And I’ll get water bottles. You have to hydrate like crazy.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a few sunburns yourself.”
“A few,” he said.
This was the real result of my date with Finn. Not a post-excursion glass of champagne with the man I was trying to turn into my destiny… but conking out afterward for twelve hours in Cooper’s bed.
Before I fell asleep, though, Cooper made me drink a full bottle of water while he covered me with aloe—as I wore only a bra and a pair of short shorts.
My most sensible bra, though, if that helps. Cotton—not lacy. It could almost have been a bikini top.
“Sorry not to have a shirt on,” I said to Cooper.
“We’re in a medical situation,” he said, likeIt’s fine.
“Pretend it’s a bikini,” I said.
And then, I guess for a comedy callback, he said, “You don’t want me to do that.”
It had been a long time since I’d had a sunburn. Childhood, maybe?
But Cooper insisted the aloe would solve everything.
All he had to do was apply it all over every burned inch of my body.
But as I sat on my side of the bed, looking at the glob of gel in his hand, I shook my head. “I think I’m fine,” I said.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” Cooper said. “But you’re not.”
“I just—don’t want to be touched. Even fingertips seem like sandpaper.”
“That’s why you put the aloe on really thick,” Cooper explained.
My worst areas were my shoulders and the tops of my thighs. Cooper took a scoop of the gel on his fingers and moved toward my knee. “Let’s do one square inch,” he said, “and if you hate it, we’ll stop.”
One square inch. I didn’t stop him.
And it actually felt fine. Cool and smooth and soothing.
“How’s that?” Cooper asked.
“It’s good, actually.”
“Permission to do the rest?”
I nodded.
And so Cooper spent the next half hour slathering my back side with half the bottle—though he had to pause a few minutes in to put my hair up in a ponytail. He did my shoulders first—gliding cool strokes down to my bathing suit line and up to my hair. Then he blew on my back for a while to dry it before sending me to the bathroom for one last pee and then helping me lie back on the bed.
