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“And hunger cravings,” I interject.
“And our hormonal-induced cravings,” Simone adds dutifully. “So this is about to rock.”
“Dude,” Ty complains.
He catches mine and Simone’s unimpressed looks. Cooper chuckles, unbothered.
“Girls talk about their period. Get over it,” Simone says.
“Let me in on this pizza masterpiece.”
Coop pats my hip and waits. I rip off a piece of my slice and offer it to him. The warm touch of his lips meeting my fingers startles me. He covers by hugging me against his chest, splaying his palm across my stomach. It dips beneath his hand and I can’t help squirming.
“Dude.” It’s Jackson’s turn to complain.
“You’re right, Simone.” Humor laces his voice. “That was the best damn bite of pizza I’ve ever had.”
It feels like every eye in the room has to be watching us after that public display. I have to remind myself that’s the point of all this while my stomach flutters. It’s all to help Cooper, and I’ll give that my all.
THIRTY-ONE
COOPER
So far, so good. People are eating up me and Tatum being together from the palm of our hands. If everyone else believes us, my hope is that it helps back me up to gradually convince her she doesn’t need anyone else because she has me.
On top of that, I’m finding I actually enjoy my classes. The material interests me, unlike the random classes I picked last year to collect credits without any idea of what I was doing. Now that ideas for my future are taking shape in my mind, I have the drive to do what it takes to get there.
There’s energy in my step as I enter the library. It’s still early in the semester, only a couple of weeks into classes. I never really came here before. When I chose to study—a rare occurrence—it was always in my dorm.
Normally I’d be hitting the court or the gym with the guys I play basketball with. This year is different. Tatum meets me three times a week at the library at night.
There’s a party we could be at, but Tatum insisted on study time. Strangely, I find I don’t miss partying as much as I used to. As long as I get some down time to shoot hoops with my friends and get to see Tatum as often as possible, I’m content.
Somehow I beat her here. A grin spreads across my face as I saunter through the first floor of the library to claim the table I’ve come to think of as ours. I get my stuff set up and pick off the next paragraph of a paper due in my marketing class next week. The topic I picked on effective communication has me thinking about how I might use the strategies I’m describing to earn the trust of a potential customer if I opened up a surfing business after I earn my degree.
A girl at the table next to ours keeps peeking over at me. It’s not out of the ordinary if I’m recognized from my TikTok account. This is a good opportunity to keep working the reputation we’ve been building as the couple everyone’s heard of on campus.
I take out a pad of the heart-shaped sticky notes I’ve been leaving for Tatum every chance I get and scribble something I know will earn me her cute little smile when she reads it. I plaster it to the table beside me and wink at the girl watching this play out.
“Oh my god, you actually beat me?”
At Tatum’s surprised tone, I lean back in my seat, a sarcastic retort on the tip of my tongue. The smug grin immediately drops off my face once I see her. Holy fuck. Is she for real?
I left her some of my clothes, but I never pictured she’d go out in them, broadcasting that she’s mine to the entire campus. The thought ignites a rush of possessiveness. My t-shirt is too big for her. She knotted it at her hip, giving me a peek of skin above her white tennis skirt.
Dirty thoughts flood my mind, picturing all the things I want to do to her while wearing this outfit. Focusing on studying while she’s so close to me without being able to touch her is going to be a torturous challenge.
Pulling out the seat next to mine, she allows her bag to slump off her shoulder to the floor with a tiny pout. “I was on the phone with my mom and lost track of time. I can’t believe you seriously beat me here. I’m losing my edge.”
All I’ve got in response is a helpless shrug, too distracted by the blood flow rushing to my dick at how hot she looks in my shirt with that little flared workout skirt. My hands flex to keep from grabbing her hips and dragging her onto my lap to grind against her ass like a caveman. It’s a good thing I wore jeans today, because hiding a boner in gym shorts is impossible.
Unaware of her effect on me, she says something about her parents before pausing to read the note. It saysI’ve been looking forward to seeing you all dayeven though I saw her for lunch, and picked her up this morning for her early class as usual. The note does the trick. She uses it to cover her pretty blush, which gives the handful of students in the study area an eyeful of what a great boyfriend I am.
“Thank you,” she murmurs as she tucks the note into one of her notebooks.
I lick my lips slowly, raking my gaze over her. “You look good in my shirt.”
So fucking good.
