Page 67 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

That’s Cooper’s handwriting. Does he write in all my books? I would have noticed, wouldn’t I?

Abandoning the cupcakes, I run back inside and up the stairs to the bookshelf in my room, my heart racing wildly. I tightly grip the outside of the book from my thirteenth birthday and seventeenth and pull them and all the ones in between down in one fell swoop. Setting them gently on my desk, I pick up the one from the year I became a teenager and flip to the back page.

The year I realized you’re my best friend.

How did I not notice this? I reach for the book Cooper got me on my fourteenth birthday.

The year I noticed how beautiful you are.

He thought that even then? I pick up the book from my fifteenth birthday.

The year I first thought about kissing you.

I set book three on the stack I’ve already looked through.

The year I wished we were more than friends.

My sixteenth birthday. That was the week we decided to be more than friends. My heart leaps at the thought. I miss my person. Maybe more than I realized. I hesitate before checking last year’s note, knowing it’s the first one after we started drifting apart.

The year I missed you the most.

My stomach drops then fills with anxious butterflies wanting nothing more than to guide me back to Cooper.

I leave through our garage this time so I can grab my skateboard. After retrieving my cupcakes, I step inside the Montgomery’s open garage to steal Coop’s board too before driving straight to his house.

The chain unlatches shortly after I’ve knocked a few times. When the door opens, Cooper stands in front of me in gray sweatpants–and nothing else. Holy crap this man has gotten hot, his abs more defined, his body more mature. He has light facial hair now, and it looks . . . Wow, he’s hot.

His eyebrows scrunch together and he scratches the back of his head like he’s confused to see me. “Sophie, hey.”

“Hi.” I hold out his Tupperware of cupcakes awkwardly.

A smile slowly graces his face. “Happy birthday.” I can’t tell if he’s happy to see me or excited about the cupcakes. “What are you doing here?” he asks, taking the treats from me.

“You mean besides bringing you birthday cupcakes?” I tease, anxious to get to my point while also not wanting to rush it. I’m scared. The guy who wrote any of those past notes might not exist anymore. He might not miss me in the way I’ve realized I miss him, especially now that he’s in front of me. I have this overwhelming need for him like finding water after wandering for days in the desert.

He glances at the book I’ve been holding in my other hand before meeting my gaze. “Do you not like your book?”

“I hate that you don’t know me anymore.” The words tumble out of me.

“Oh.” A mixture of recognition and worry flashes through his beautiful blue eyes. He hesitates. “You saw my note?”

Running my fingers over the tips of my curls, I hold his gaze. “I saw all of them.”

He’s confused. “You’ve never mentioned them before.”

I nod. “I don’t know how I missed them.” I beat myself up on the entire ten-minute drive here. I’m not sure why or how it would have changed anything, but it feels like it matters.

“Wait.” He sets the Tupperware on the ground of the entryway like he can’t process my confession while holding it. He rights himself, leaning into the edge of the opened door, his hand supported by its grip on the inside door knob. “You didn’t even notice them before?”

How embarrassing. He probably thought I was just ignoring his sweet gesture all these years. Shifting my gaze to the tight knots of the shoestring bows on my Chucks, I shake my head slowly. “I’m sorry.”

His fingertips graze my forearm where it’s holding my book to my chest, but he drops them immediately like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to touch me. His voice is soft when he says, “It’s not a big deal. It kind of felt like a way to confess my secrets to you, I guess. That’s so lame.” He laughs and shakes his head at himself.

“Cooper?” I start, running my free hand over my pink sundress. His eyes follow the movement as he leans against the door he holds half open. My heart races as I frantically search his face, wondering if it’s okay for me to be here, if the thoughts running through my head are anything like the ones running through his.

“Sophie?” He says my name slowly and as if I’ve let the silence go on long enough to question.

“Umm. Do you want to skate to the diner?”

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