I don't know what it says about me that my best friend is an eight-year-old kid, but I don't think I care. And the fact that I want to bury my face between his mother's thighs has absolutely nothing to do with it. I swear.
Now I can't think about anything else, and I lose horribly. I'm out of practice. At least that's what I tell Coop when he beats me twice in a row. It's like he anticipates my move before I even know what I'm going to do. He really is smart and a smart ass too. Has Jade ever had his IQ tested? The private school he told me about might as well be college with how much it costs per semester. No wonder she lost her shit when I suggested it.
Mom at least had Abuelo and Abuela's support when I was born. Addie told me Jade has no one. I can't imagine what single mom life looks like without a support system. But somehow my family became her village, and in a way, I guess I can consider myself the village idiot. Because despite what I told her, I do want to save her. But not in the way she thinks. I don't want to be her crutch or her savior. I want to support her desire to do things her way. I want to be the ladder that helps her get to the top.
Her open distrust of me only makes me want her to want me.
God, do I have a degradation kink? I don't think so, but nope, no. I'm not thinking about this right now.
'Finish him!' the game yells.
Cooper takes me out with a roundhouse kick.
'KO' lights up the screen.
"Dude, you suck," he says.
"Yeah, come on. I'm hungry," I tell him.
We order a few slices of pizza and some Cokes and take a seat at a table in the bar area. The place is filled with families, couples, and groups of friends. The demographic is impressive. It's like a brewery plus arcade, although there are several warnings that if your kids are assholes or disruptive, you get banned. The signs must be working because I don't see any kids without adults within a few steps.
I reach for my phone to text Addie we should come here on her next day off work, but it's not in my pocket.
"Shit," I say.
"What?" Cooper asks.
"My phone's missing. I must've left it at Mortal Combat."
"I'll go get it," he says, standing up.
If I crane my neck I get a partial view of the machine—enough to let him go by himself. See? Uncle material.
"Thanks, kid."
He takes a bite of his pizza and weaves his way to the game. I pat my pockets again in case I missed it. But nope, no phone. I had to have left it at Mortal Combat. Coop waits patiently while two guys play, then a minute later one of them hands him something. He holds it up in the air triumphantly.
Good. It's not like I have anything incriminating on there, but let's be real, if it got into the wrong hands, anything could be incriminating. A busboy stops by our table, but I dismiss him, telling him we're still working on our pizza.
Coop hands me my phone, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
"What did you do?" I ask, unlocking my phone.
"Nothing," he says behind a giggle.
I check my open applications. My camera is one of them.
"Dude, really?"
His face fills my screen, over and over again. Smiling, sticking his tongue out, flipping me off. There must be a hundred photos.
He shrugs and sips his Coke.
I put my phone back in my pocket, and the kid regales me with the second-grade drama at school. I'm glad cell phones weren't a thing when I was a kid. Chat rooms were bad enough. Bullies having access to their victims 24/7 sounds like torture. People become brave behind screens. I know I've read my fair share of insults. Of adults feeling big behind something so small.
Coop and I play a few more games and then head back home. My back hurts from compensating for my knee, and my leg hurts because ACL injuries fucking suck. I'm getting closer to losing these crutches for good though. My guess is only another day or two and I'll ditch them completely.
At the house, the girls are outside by the fire, their giggles muffled through the wall. Coop brings me the bottle of ibuprofen from my nightstand, and I swallow four dry.
