Page 1 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

Chapter one

COOPER

NOW

Cooper, 21; Sophie, 18

Remnants of cheap liquor seep into the air around me when I push through the cold glass door at the entrance of Jameson’s bar, its burn promising to eradicate yesterday's memories.

Still in the same black joggers and old maroon high school football hoodie I’ve worn for two days in a row, the denial that Sophie is dating clearly isn’t working for me. It’s consumed me. I haven’t slept. Or eaten. Fuck. I probably should have stopped by Hawaiian Time for dinner before I drank away my problems. It’s too late now.

Running my fingers through my hair, I scan the room for an empty table, but the dingy red spotlight over the bar draws my eyes to the one thing I want to forget. Every part of my body freezes except my wildly beating heart. You have got to be kidding me.

I’ve already been mentally preparing myself for what it will be like seeing Sophie on Thanksgiving in a few days–two months after our breakup. Our families always celebrate together, so as much as I’d love to forget everything that’s happened between us, there’s no escaping her–not really. Still, I’m not fucking ready to see her leaning into some guy standing next to the bar. His blue jeans are dark, his fitted white T-shirt sleeves are rolled a couple of times and aviators are hanging from the collar. He has a barbed wire tattoo around his bicep–Seriously?–and his hair is slicked back. Putting a face to the douchebag responsible for my need to get drunk tonight is not helping the situation.

He has one arm draped casually over her shoulder like he’s comfortable with her, his other hand resting on the wooden bar top as he grips his shot glass. She holds her shot in front of her, her flowered, green sundress making her look equal parts adorable and fuckable. God, the way I would slide those straps off her shoulder as I kiss my way down her body if we were alone. If we were together.

It’s so much different than the first dress I remember her wearing. It was the same color green, but with ruffle sleeves and a giant bow in the front. She was four and sitting on my porch when I got home from my first day of first grade. Before I even closed the door of my mom’s van, she was twirling in front of me. I think she wore that dress nearly every day for a year. Once she finally gave in to wearing different colors, she never stopped collecting them. The look is so signature Sophie, she crosses my mind anytime I see a sundress. She’s always on my mind.

There’s a shy smile on her face, but her new relationship nerves are evident–something she hasn't felt around me in years. She glances at him before shooting back the liquor, choking immediately–because she never drinks. My hands twitch at my sides, fighting the urge to see if she’s okay, especially because he is too busy checking out the girl who temporarily blocks my view as she walks by. Again, seriously?

If Sophie’s brother, Dean, knew the details of our relationship, he wouldn’t have told me she has a boyfriend. I can’t be mad at my lifelong neighbor, ex-teammate and barely friend for being the messenger. It’s not his fault he and Sophie aren’t close enough to swap dating stories. She rarely lets anyone in. I feel bad for bolting out of the University of Oregon football game after he introduced me to the girl he was with, but I’m not mad at him. I just couldn’t stay there anymore, knowing that on the other side of the stadium, Sophie had a different guy sitting in the seat that’s always been mine. I was upset hearing about it, but seeing him with my own eyes is what elicits a level of rage inside me I didn’t know existed.

Sophie’s curls are pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands of dirty blonde framing her face–the same unruly strands she’s been trying to tame since middle school. She hates the flyaways, but they’re one of the many things that make her . . . well, her. My heart thumps more erratically than the pinball flying through the maze in the machine next to me at the thought that she might change. She already is changing. Maybe her hair is the same, but the girl that I knew inside and out because she was completely mine is fading into someone hard to recognize. She was perfect before. I thought she loved who she was. I don’t understand the shift. It’s like instead of checking items off her college bucket list, she’s crossing off the parts of her personality I fell in love with.

Is she doing it to make me jealous? Or to make it clear she’s over me, that she’s changed her mind? The thought makes me sick. This wasn’t how I interpreted the agreement. Maybe it was in her fine print. Or maybe it’s me that made her want to change. I hate every possibility.

My fists ball to prevent me from grabbing her hand. From begging her to leave with me. From taking her away from him and back to where we used to be. I know she won’t let me.

Fuck, this is infuriating.

She hasn’t spotted me, so I turn to where Jace, the bouncer, is checking IDs outside the door. I could get him to kick her out, considering she’s eighteen and a freshman. But if I do that, chances are she’ll leave with that douchebag. I want that even less than I want to watch the scene in front of me unfold. I’d rather her be where I can keep an eye on her.

Jesus Christ, I’ve got it bad. The way she’s fucking with my head makes me lose my mind. My body needs to get on board with the promise I made about giving her time, but this doesn’t seem like the same Sophie I pleaded with for forgiveness two months ago.

I need to find that Sophie before it’s too late. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be for us.

“Hey. I thought you were going to get us a table?” Troy’s confusion breaks me out of my trance as someone pushes past where I’m blocking the entrance of the bar.

Shoving my hands into the center pocket of my hoodie so my best friend doesn’t notice my clenched fists, I step out of the way. “Yeah, sorry. I just got here.” I turn toward him. He’s much more put together than I am right now in jeans and a navy sweater pushed up his forearms. His summer breakup trip to California is still evident in his tan and perfectly styled hair that's a little more blond than normal. Maybe I need to get out of here.

Veering to the right of the front door, I scan the booths lining the front wall. A few girls are sliding out of one, and I take a breath to avoid any residue of anger in my tone. “Hey, are you ladies leaving?” I ask the brunette holding her short skirt down as she stands.

“Yeah. You can have this booth.”

“Thanks.” I step back to give the four girls room to vacate their seats as Troy’s hand slaps against my shoulder repeatedly. I follow his gaze–despite it being unnecessary.

“Look.” He hits me once more. “Is that Sophie?”

“Yup.” I pop the P then grind my teeth.

“Who the fuck is that guy? He looks like a tool.”

He really does. Taking another shot, the guy slams the glass upside down onto the bar top, surely leaving sticky liquor for the bartender to clean up. Dick. This guy is nothing like me, and I don’t know if that makes this worse or better.

Shaking my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, I take a hard seat in the booth, the fabric of my sweats sliding across the black leather as I kick my feet up on the bench. I lean into the wall behind me as if it could physically hold up my life. “Someone she shouldn’t be with, that’s who,” I mumble.

Troy mirrors my position as the bartender, Jess, sets a beer in front of him and a vodka Red Bull in front of me. She slips away without more than a friendly greeting. It’s crowded enough that Sophie still hasn’t seen me.

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