Page 71 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

Before I’m all the way inside my bathroom, I know it’s too late. He holds the light pink toy in his hand, no shame at all about the way he grips it in his palm, as he turns to me. His smirk looks like he’s ready to tease me, but his eyes are on fire as if thinking about holding something that’s been inside me is too much to handle.

“Cooper!” I snatch it from his hand, tossing it in the drawer next to the sink, my face heating more with every second that passes.

He chuckles. “Guess it’s safe to say you’ve upgraded your tactics.”

“Ugggghhh,” I groan, my hands covering my face as I lean against the wall. “Can you not?”

With one hand braced against the counter, he uses the other to cage me in. Peeking through my fingers, I catch his tongue swiping over his lip before he bites into it. “Don’t worry. Apparently now I have something new to add to my arsenal too.” The thought of Cooper picturing me getting off as he takes care of himself feels like someone is shaking the tightrope we’re on. I know I can’t be the first one to leap, but I can’t pull away either. My hands fall from my face, fingers twisting in the fabric of my sundress instead.

Our eyes are locked. His breath intensifies with every inhale, and I’ve been holding mine so long I might pass out soon.

A throat clearing snaps both of our attention to my room, where Marcus stands. “I made lunch,” he says. “Not dessert, but it seems like you two might have that part covered.” His chuckle echoes through my new room as he walks away, unfazed by our situationship. Cooper and I return to the previous moment, but it’s not the same anymore. The tension has been replaced with awkwardness, Cooper tugging on the strings of his hoodie, and me twisting a curl around my finger as I spin out from between him and the wall to follow Marcus.

I don’t want to talk about it. I already know what he’ll say. Otherwise he would have stopped me. He would have kissed me.

Chapter forty-two

COOPER

NOW

Cooper, 21; Sophie's 19th birthday

Leaning across the island in my kitchen, I tap the 0, 6, 1 and 3 on the screen, unlocking my phone. A little red “1” bubble appears next to my Snapchat icon, and I open the app. My stomach flips, despite already knowing it would be from Sophie. I’ve been trying to keep my distance since she moved. I mean, we still hang out all the time. But I’ve got a new two-foot rule I try to abide by at all times. I may not be able to prevent the vision of her little pink toy I found three months ago or that perfect face she makes when she lets go out of my head, but I’ve managed to keep my hands to myself.

I open her snap, a selfie of her showing the book I got for her nineteenth birthday to the camera as she sits on the couch in Marcus’ living room, the sun streaming through the window behind her. The text across her picture reads: Thanks for my book, followed by a string of heart emojis. We have plans for tonight, but I wanted her to have something waiting for her–the brown paper wrapped gift that I like to think she looks forward to after six years. I dropped it off at Marcus’ when I knew she’d be with her mom baking cupcakes.

Being friends with Sophie again has been . . . a roller coaster, to say the least. We haven’t truly been just friends in three years, since the week of her sixteenth birthday and my high school graduation. Every time we are together, I wish we were together. But I still don’t think we’re ready. Despite the tension between us, I’m not sure the trust is fully back–at least not on my end. I’m scarred by the ease she seems to have in walking away, in falling into someone else’s arms when she claims she wants me.

Grabbing one of the cupcakes next to me, I shove half of it in my mouth, balancing it there while I snap my own selfie as a reply. Thanks for the cupcakes, I add before hitting send. She must have dropped them off on her way back home from her mom’s this morning. I was in the shower when my security notification came through, so I missed her stopping by, but I’ll see her soon.

You’re welcome, she replies in our snap text thread.

Happy birthday, Soph. I send back and lock my phone, shoving the second half of the cupcake in my mouth.

My phone lights up with a Snapchat notification, presumably Sophie thanking me.

It’s a picture.

I open it.

My mouth falls open.

I pull my phone closer to my face.

Pull it away.

Pull it back in.

Like somehow it’ll help me make sense of the fact that there is a nearly naked picture of Sophie on my phone. Her face isn’t in it, but I’d know who it was even if the snap didn’t come from her. I’d know her body anywhere, no matter how many years it’s aged or how long it’s been since I’ve seen her this way.

The picture cuts from her neck to right below her skimpy pink lace thong. Her dirty blonde hair has new highlights compared to when I saw her a few days ago. I only notice because her curls are perfectly positioned over one nipple. Her hand covers the other, but neither hides how fucking sexy she is. I haven’t seen her this naked since January, five months ago, and the way my dick twitches is probably inappropriate considering we are just friends.

I shouldn’t be turned on anyway. I should be mad because what the fuck. This isn’t what we agreed upon. She shouldn’t have sent a sexy picture that would take a lobotomy to get out of my head.

Against my poor judgment, I tap out of the picture to an unread message.

Sophie: Please tell me you didn’t open that yet.

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