Page 16 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

She’s either finally realized I’m staring or is just now choosing to acknowledge it. “Stop looking at me.” I can tell by her tone she doesn’t mean it. “Is this weird?” she asks, her eyes flicking to our conjoined hands.

“Do you think it’s weird?” I challenge.

She shakes her head, her messy bun flopping about as she does.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

She studies me for a second as if she’s unsure her secrets are safe with me. I rub my thumb along hers in reassurance, my body automatically reacting to her needs without thought.

“It feels normal. Besides your sweaty hands.” She unlinks our fingers and dramatically drags her hand down the sleeve of my sweatshirt, giggling as she does.

“Hey!” I grab the wrist of her hand running over me and playfully push her backward, pinning her to the couch before I relentlessly tickle her. She squirms under me, fighting to get away–the unbridled playfulness stroking my previously depleted ego. I ease up when she starts giggling so hard she can hardly breathe. I pause, my face hovering over hers, and her laugh ceases.

God, I want to kiss her so badly, but I know she’s not ready. Instead, I let our gazes stay locked for another moment before pulling away from her and sitting. She stays on her back and flings her legs over my lap dramatically with a sigh. “Cooper?”

“Yes, my little cupcake?” I look at her with a smirk, squeezing her calves. Fuck, her legs are soft. I focus on her face to avoid running my hands up toward the ruffles on the edge of her sleep shorts. The only light in here is the glow from the TV. I can see her scrunch up her nose at the pet name I’ve never used, but she doesn’t complain.

“I like you.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “I would hope so, Soph. It would be weird if you were just pretending to be my friend for sixteen years.”

She slaps at my arm but misses based on her position. “You know that’s not how I meant it.”

Her nerves have dissipated a bit. I note tickling as a tactic to use in the future. Maybe next time I’ll kiss her after. Fuck, I want to kiss her. “I know.” I grab her wrists and tug until she’s sitting up. “Of course we like each other. Relationships are simply friendships with extra benefits.” I wink at her before adding, “We’re great at the friendship part. We better be after this long. Are you trying to tell me that maybe you’re interested in the extra benefits part?” Any mild curiosity I had before has transformed into a full-blown desire to know what she tastes like in the past twenty-four hours. I’m praying she’s starting to crave the same.

She chews on her bottom lip. “I want to tell you something, but you can’t make fun of me.”

“Promise.” I reach out and run my thumb along her cheek. A shiver runs through her at my touch, and I remind myself it’s too soon to pull her lips to mine. I let my hand fall to hers in her lap. “Tell me.”

She takes a deep breath. “I don’t have much experience with that part. Not as much as you.”

My brows furrow. “What kind of experience do you think I have, Sophie?”

“I don’t know. We’ve never talked about stuff like this.” She shrugs. “I’ve seen you making out with girls after football games.”

I never realized she’d seen me. For some reason, I wish she hadn’t. “It’s just kissing.” I laugh, but her face remains serious. “Wait. Have you never kissed anyone?”

“You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me,” she pouts. I’ve wondered recently if she's been kissed before, but I wasn’t sure either way. All of a sudden this feels like a lot of pressure. I don’t want to fuck it up for her.

“I’m not, I’m sorry. Come here.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and tug her into me. “Yes, I’ve kissed girls, but let me set the record straight. That’s all I’ve done.”

She pulls back enough I can see her eyes go wide in the glow of the TV as the credits roll.

“Don’t act so surprised.” I chuckle.

“But, Cooper, you’re you.” That’s the second time she’s said something like that.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re good-looking, you’re popular, you’re a football star and all the girls drool over you.”

“You think I’m good-looking?” I tease. She’s not wrong about what she said, although I’m not sure there’s actual drool involved. I know I’m one of the more popular kids in school, but I’ve never cared about that.

“Shut up. You know you are.”

“I mean, yeah, but I’ve never heard you say it.”

“Apparently we’ve never said a lot of things before,” she sasses.

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