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“We think about you and talk about you all the time, Coop. You might not physically be in Kroydon Hills with everyone, but you’re still there. Those kids see you through their screens. They hear Cooper stories from all of us. The house is covered in pictures of all of us, you included. They’re not forgetting about you. I promise.”
“Thanks.” His shoulders relax, but his voice is barely above a whisper. “I guess I needed to hear that.”
He rests his head on top of mine for just a moment, and my entire body eases with the contact.
For months, I’ve been asking myself one question.
Were my feelings for him real, or were they just a high school crush that never went away because he left town? Were they based on a memory instead of reality?
Now I know for sure.
The memory of Cooper doesn’t hold a candle to actually having him next to me. And now that he’s here, I don’t want to let go.
The new question I’ve got to ask myself is what am I going to do about it?
* * *
I spent Sunday studying for my last two finals. Well... trying to. If I fail the test I’m taking tomorrow, I wonder if the professor would take,sorry, I’m obsessed with my stepbrother, as an excuse because trying to concentrate on World War II instead of deciding whether I should tell Cooper how I feel before he leaves again is not working out well for me. Probably not an acceptable reason, so I flip over the bright pink index card with the date of Franz Ferdinand’s assassination written down and try to memorize it for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes.
Judging by the fact my guess is still wrong, I probably should have started studying before today.
Oh well.
The girls across the hall asked me if I wanted to grab dinner with them, but I stayed in, trying to get through this. I hate tests. Always have. Studying for them sucks ass because I suck at studying.
Pity party, table for one, please.
When Emerson walks through the door sometime after nine that night, I’ve just put away my US history notes and opened my economics book. On to the next test.
Em, on the other hand, has been at Linc’s all day and hasn’t cracked open a single book. This bitch doesn’t have to because she’s a freaking genius, studying entertainment management, and her last name is Madden. Not to mention, she’s glowing. Like, literally glowing. Damn. Life really isn’t fair sometimes.
“Emerson Madden.” I slam my book shut and roll off the bed less than gracefully. “What have you been doing all day?” I’m kidding, obviously. Because I have no doubt I know exactly what she’s been doing all day. Or more precisely, who.
Her smile is a mile wide as she kicks off her shoes and flounces down on her bed. “Falling in love.”
“What?” Em is not that girl. She doesn’t believe in insta love and won’t even let us read insta love books for our buddy reads. “Love?”
She reaches her hands into the air and measures something longer than a loaf of bread. “It’s amazing, CC. His dick is utter perfection.” She sits up and squeezes her pillow. “And. It. Curves.” Then she squeals, “Curves,” before she screams into the pillow. “And that man has stamina with a capital S.” Her navy-blue eyes glitter as she turns her head toward me. “Oh. Oh. Oh. And his tongue... I’ve never met a guy who likes oral as much as Linc.” She stands up as dramatically as she threw herself down and strips out of last night’s clothes while she rummages through a drawer. “I legitimately lost track of how many orgasms I’ve had in the last twenty-four hours.”
I have to force myself to close my mouth that’s come completely unhinged at her declaration. “Is it okay if I hate you a little bit right now?”
“Yup,” she sighs. “I’d hate me too. But seriously, C, the connection is insane. He’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow night.” She slips into her pajamas before turning back around. “Isn’t it crazy?”
“Yeah. Crazy.” I try to show as much enthusiasm as I can, when deep down inside, I’m so jealous, I kinda want to cry.
Maybe I’ll just order a new vibrator instead.
* * *
My phone chimes about an hour after I finally go to bed with an incoming text. When I yank it off my desk, Theo’s name is lighting up on my screen.
Theo:Hey Carys. You up for rehearsal tonight?
Carys:It’s eleven o’clock, and I have a final at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. I’m already in bed.
Theo:Want some company? I could help you study. I’m really good with anatomy.
Carys:Unless you’re going to give me all the answers to a history test, you’re of no use to me.
