Page 51 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

Chapter twenty-nine

SOPHIE

THEN

Cooper, 19; Sophie, 16

Plopping another cheese cube in my mouth, I lean awkwardly against the Montgomery’s marble kitchen counter. It feels so comfortable being here. Mom and I came over early this morning to help Melissa prep Thanksgiving dinner, and I made the most epic charcuterie board, moving around the kitchen for things I needed like I live here. At the same time, I felt uncomfortable, like I had shown up to someone’s house unannounced and was waiting for them to arrive. Every sound made me flinch. Every shadow made me look up. I haven’t seen Cooper yet today. He and Troy had already left on a motorcycle ride before I got here.

Even though he said we would still be friends, it’s not the same as before. We hung out once more before my junior year started, for the season finale of Beauty & the Beast that aired the week after our breakup. It was awkward, us sitting on opposite ends of his couch instead of lying snuggled together in his bed. I haven’t seen him in the two months since. I don’t know how college is going for him. I’ve wanted to talk to him every day, but I decided to leave it up to him.

I still think I did the right thing. I just want what's best for him, and right now, that’s not me. It doesn’t mean this isn’t hard. I’ve spent all my free time lost in paper worlds, mostly wondering why they make happy ever afters seem so easy–because they aren’t real, that’s why.

“Sophie.” His voice hits me like a pillow being thrown in my face–startling but with so much potential to be comfortable. He’s leaning against the archway between the hallway and the kitchen–damn he’s hot in his black joggers and a slightly strained T-shirt–looking at me like he’s surprised I’m here even though he had to know I’d be coming. Our families have celebrated Thanksgiving together every single year since Dean and Carter were born, before Cooper and I even existed.

“Hi, Coop. Umm. How are you?” Unsure of what else to say, I rip a grape off its stem on the charcuterie board and shove it in my mouth.

He takes a few steps to the fridge, opens the door and reaches for two Squirts. There’s an entire row of regular, but the only Ruby Red is the one in his hand. “Fine,” he says as he sets the cans on the counter next to me, reaching into the cupboard above me for glasses. “You?”

“I’m good . . .” My words trail off. “Umm. Do you think maybe we could,” I pause, “be friends today? Just for today?” I beg in a desperate attempt for things to feel normal between us again.

He sighs, cracking the top on the Ruby Red Squirt and pouring it into the glass as he stands a foot from me. It takes everything in me not to reach for him. Instead, I reach for a handful of cheese cubes. “We are friends,” he says, handing me the glass. Our fingers brush in the transfer and he pulls back quickly as if an innocent touch is a gateway drug to something more.

“It’s just, you said things would be back to how they were and they aren’t.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy with school, the fraternity, everything, just like you said.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Well.” He holds his gaze to mine for a few moments, but his attention leaves me when the front door swings open. With half a smile, he abandons me for the living room. I hear the sound of Troy and Cooper’s secret handshake and fight back a laugh. They probably saw each other an hour ago before Troy stopped by Emily’s.

Dinner flies by, and Cooper makes as much conversation with me as he does everyone else. Our brothers never really caught on to us dating all summer, too busy with their own lives and not thinking twice about us spending time together like we always have. Mom tried to ask me what happened a few times, but after my talk with Dad, I wanted to put it all behind me and told her we just felt we were better off as friends. Dad affirming my choice was enough, and I don’t want anyone to contradict that. It’s too justified in my head, and the way Cooper jokes around with Troy, filling everyone in on the joys of college life, only solidifies that. He catches my eyes a few times, and I swear there’s gratitude in them for making the decision he never would have made on his own, but I could be imagining that to make myself feel better.

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Mom asks the table as she walks in carrying an apple pie in one hand and a pumpkin pie in the other. All four boys shoot their hands up as if they weren’t just groaning about being too full to move. “Cooper, honey, I only have two hands, but there’s cupcakes for you on the counter.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Porter,” Cooper says with a smile that falls as he locks his eyes on me.

When Cooper returns with his treat, he’s holding his phone in his other hand. “Heads Up?” he asks no one in particular. The parents have retreated to the living room with their wine, leaving the five of us to play. It’s tradition–not Heads Up in particular, but games have always been part of our get-togethers.

“Let’s do it,” Carter says. “But if Cooper and Sophie are on a team, I get Troy and Dean.” He didn’t have to say it aloud. There’s never a question of how the teams are divided. It’s always been the same. Whenever there’s an uneven number, Cooper and I always take the loss. It’s like giving out a handicap like they do in golf to level the playing field.

I watch as Troy and Cooper have a conversation without words. Carter and Dean are oblivious to the awkwardness between Cooper and me, but I’m sure Troy knows every detail. “Deal,” Cooper confirms as he concludes the silent exchange.

Troy, Carter and Dean take the first turn, Carter guessing five of the words the other two describe.

Passing the phone back to his brother, Cooper takes it. “Ready, Soph?” he asks with a glimmer in his eyes, and it feels like last year, like how we used to be.

Shifting my chair to face him more, I pull a leg under me and nod.

He presses start and holds the phone to his forehead. When the timer counts down from 3, the name Kristin Kreuk appears on the screen. That’s just dumb luck.

“Cat,” is all I say.

“Oooh, umm. Kristin something. Kreuk,” he says, slapping his hand on the table hard enough to rattle it when he remembers the name of the actress who plays the main character in our show.

“Yup,” I confirm, and he tilts his phone down so it changes to the next word.

“Oooh. What we found under Carter’s bed.”

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