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“Seriously?” I say. “I try to start an actual conversation with you and that’s how you respond? You’re unbelievable. Why do I even try with you?” I climb into the bed and turn the bedside lamp off, laying down on my side, and a minute later I feel Cooper tugging on the covers. “Knock it off,” I almost growl.
“You’re hogging them,” he snaps back.
“And you’re on my side.” I roll over and yank the covers back. “Scoot over.”
“I am not.” He pulls on the covers again. “This is my side. You scoot over.”
“I’m literally on the edge of the bed. There is nowhere for me to scoot over to.” I clench my teeth in indignation. God he’s infuriating.
“Well, me neither.”
I roll over and sigh. “This is so typical of you.”
“What the hell does that mean? It’s typical of me to steal covers? When was the last time we shared a bed?”
“No,” I almost growl again, turning to face him once more. “It’s typical of you to be a selfish dick.”
“Okay.” Cooper draws out the word. “Want to tell me what the hell you mean by that?”
“Forget it. I’m going to sleep.” I roll back over and grip my pillow, holding it close.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
When I wake up the next morning, Cooper’s side of the bed is empty and the sound of chattering and dishes clinking echoes down the hall. The aroma of bacon and coffee is what gets me to finally push the blankets aside and stumble out of bed.
“Good morning, sweetie,” Mom says when she sees me stumbling down the hall towards them.
I mumble something. A second later, Cooper is placing a warm cup of coffee in my hands and a kiss on my temple. I’m taken aback, until I remember that we’re supposed to be dating.But going from arguing, to flirting and affectionate at the drop of a hat is getting exhausting and is really beginning to mess with me. I rub at my eyes and blink as I take a seat at the bar.
“You sleep okay?” Cooper asks, rubbing my back.
I nod, because, yeah, actually, I can’t remember that last time I slept so well, in fact. I look outside and that’s when I notice the rain coming down, hard. I take a sip of my coffee and sigh.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a day for games and movies it looks like,” Dad says from where he’s leaning against the counter. “It’s supposed to do that on and off all day.”
My eyes widen, and I jump off of my stool, setting my mug down, because, shit. My car. I left the top down yesterday not knowing it was going to rain, and it’s going to be a fucking wreck! “Shit.” I grab my keys, not even bothering to slide my shoes on. I just run out the door.
COOPER
Fuck. I feel terrible. I haven’t been up that long, but it’s been several minutes longer than Wes, and I should have thought of his car in this downpour, getting drenched. It’s because of me he’s even driving around with the top down anyway. I set my mug down and hurry down the hall to the closet and grab as many towels as I can, then make my way back to the kitchen and slide my shoes on.
“Here,” Derick says, “give me some. I’ll help.”
“Me, too,” Macy says, and I hand them each some towels before we head outside to rescue Wes’ car.
When we reach the driveway he’s got the top up and he’s completely soaked from head to toe, his clothes pasted onto him and his hair plastered to his face. The rain is coming down so hard it actually hurts when it hits my face. We make our wayover to him and climb inside. The car is drenched. There is water pooled in the cup holders, and on the floor, and in the crevices. The seats are soaked. God, I feel terrible. I toss a towel to him and we begin sopping up as much of the water as we can while the rain continues to beat down outside. It’s not nearly enough but it’s what we have for now. We’ll get the rest of it taken care of when the rain lets up. If it’s not enough we’ll have to take it to a shop, but I’m hoping we can handle it on our own.
“Thanks, guys,” Wes says as we apply pressure to the towels, trying to sop up as much water as we can. I’m in the front with him, and Derick and Macy are in the back. We’re all wet as can be but no one’s complaining.
“Anything for you, bro, you know that.” Derick gives him a smile. “Sorry we didn’t think of it ourselves. We could have gotten here sooner.”
My thoughts exactly. “I’m sorry, too, Wes,” I say, and his crystal blue eyes meet mine.
“It’s not your fault,” he replies. “It’s mine. I should have parked it in the garage if I was leaving the top down. I just completely forgot yesterday when we were bringing the groceries in.”
“Actually it’s Dad’s fault,” Derick says. “There’s no room in the garage anyway. I’ve been telling him for ages he needs to get rid of some of those sex toys.”
