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“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’ve got ten seconds to spill.”
“Or what?”
She gets flustered, her cheeks heating. “Or…I don’t know what. Just tell me what’s going on!”
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you been buying me coffee every morning and leaving it outside my classroom?”
“What?” Her brows knit in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? No. I don’t buy you coffee every morning. Where the heck did that come from?”
“If it’s not you, then who?” Now I’m thinking maybe Cooper just said it wasn’t him, but why wouldn’t he admit it? Why the secrecy?
“Sloane, stop trying to change the subject. What is going on with you and Cooper? Talk to me.”
I turn my attention back to Fiona and try to think of what to say. We’ve been all over the map, and I’m not sure where we currently are.
“I don’t know what’s going on with us,” I shrug. It’s not a lie.
“But you want something to be going on, am I right?” Her devious grin is infectious, and I can’t help but mirror it. Sometimes she’s too damned observant. I really wish this wasn’t one of those times.
“Maybe…” I can’t help it. It’s true. I do want there to be something between us. I think something is already between us, and I want to see where it goes. I’m just not sure if he feels the same way.
“Well, make that shit happen, girl,” she says matter-of-factly. “Go!”
Fiona literally shoos me out of the office toward the piano studio, not caring that students and other teachers are watching the spectacle we’re making.
She stops when she sees Cooper standing in the doorway to his classroom, turns, and practically runs back to the main office, leaving me and Cooper to look at each other awkwardly.
“Hi,” I say with a small wave. Butterflies are taking their positions in my rib cage, ready to freak out. All of a sudden, I can’t stop fidgeting.
Wow. So smooth.
“Hey,” he says, but it’s flat. Monotone. No expression whatsoever. He moves to head back to his class.
He didn’t even meet my eyes. Odd. Maybe he’s having a bad day.
“Do you want to grab dinner tonight? Or drinks?” I ask quickly, my voice shaking a little with nerves and my fingers fumbling with each other. I want to catch him before he disappears into his classroom. Yes, I just asked Cooper Davies out to dinner. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Then why does it feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff?
He examines me coldly, and I can’t read him at all. It’s like he’s suddenly a completely different person than the one I’ve been getting to know the last few weeks. This isn’t the guy I held hands with on Saturday night in the back of a car and chatted with until the early morning hours. Something’s changed, but for the life of me, I can’t think of what. My stomach sinks.
“Thanks, but I have plans.”
And he’s gone.
The door to his classroom shuts, and I’m left standing in the empty hall staring at the doorway we flirted with each other in less than twenty-four hours ago. I can almost picture us as I imagine the students watching us yesterday did. Me smiling up at him, and him gazing intently into my eyes. Barely even registering we were being watched because we were lost in each other’s presence.
What on earth happened between then and now to cause Cooper to act like this? Did I unknowingly do something wrong? Did something happen to him?
I’m baffled as to what could have happened to make him change so much in such a short period of time. My hands shake as I clutch them to my chest. Tears swell in my eyes before spilling onto my cheeks. A hollow ache blooms behind my ribs, one I haven’t felt in years. I’ve not felt this in a long time because I don’t allow anybody in. Somehow, Cooper Davies got in. And now I’m going to pay for it with heartache.
How did that even happen? We fought like cats and dogs when we first met, and now, all of a sudden, I’m holding back tears in the middle of the hallway because my heart is crushed.
“Ms. Castle?” Someone is calling my name quietly, and I glance up to see Penny standing in the doorway to the studio. She’s looking at me with so much concern I quickly pull myself together to hide whatever is happening inside. It’ll have to wait.
“Sorry, Penny,” I say, straightening my shoulders and wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands. “I’m coming.”
I’m now in the perfect mood to write songs about unrequited love because, boom, here I am in the middle of it myself.
Art can stop imitating life. It’s fucking annoying.
