Page 60 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

He grips the back of his neck like he’s ashamed, but then a grin breaks over his face. “Yeah, they banned me. I almost blew my finger off. It’s fine. I’ll see how the other side lives tonight.”

Chuckling, I bump my shoulder into his as I pass by, my arms full with two Mexican camping blankets. “You can join me if you want. But just a warning, once you sit with me, you’ll never want to be anywhere else.”

“I already know that. Lead the way.”

Once we get to the back edge of the yard, I drop the blankets on the grass. I grab one and fling it open so it splays on the ground, tugging the corners until it lays flat. Sitting, I wait for Cooper to join me before adjusting the second one over us.

“I mean, I don’t get the entertainment of you idiots lighting them off, but this is the best view.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says, getting comfortable on his back. There’s space between us, but not much. The thought that I wish he was closer to me flickers through my mind, but I bury it.

“Trust me.” I curl one arm under my head, remaining on my back but leaning slightly toward Cooper. He mirrors me.

“I do.” His words feel more loaded than their face value. “So, how was junior year?”

“Hmm. Nothing really happened. You know me. OH. I decided what I want to do.”

“Do about what?”

“My life, duh. Like what job I want.”

His attention perks up. “You did?! That’s not nothing. What do you want to do?”

“I want to be an architect.”

There is no shock on Cooper’s face when I reveal my life dream, only a knowing grin. “Tell me more.”

I smile as the first of our families’ fireworks explode above us–green arches bursting outward from their center. “I guess it should have been obvious, but it didn’t really cross my mind until my art teacher pointed out the only things I ever sketch are houses and floor plans. I thought maybe it was just from seeing all the pictures your dad takes at the fancy houses he sells.”

“But you don’t think that’s why?” I keep my eyes mostly on the sky as a succession of fireworks brighten it–sparkly red, blue, and gold trails overlapping each other.

“I don’t think so. I looked up more specifics about what the work actually entails, and I love each aspect. I like that there are formulas for guaranteeing what you create will work, but that you get to be creative with it. It’s like my books. They’re designed for happy ever after, but the journey to get there is unique.” If only there was that kind of guarantee for success in every aspect of life, I add to myself. He’s taking in every word like he’s truly interested, his eyes focused more on me than the string of fireworks that seem like they’ll be duds until the tips of the trails explode in gold with a sizzle.

“OH, and the best part is,” I glance sideways at him for a second, “is U of O has an architecture program. So, it makes sense to stay here.”

“That’s great, Soph.” The excited words leave his lips as he simultaneously shifts more on his side, his hand landing on my stomach, right below where mine is resting.

I gasp at the unexpected contact and freeze my response in an attempt to decide how I feel about this. He held my hand earlier. It’s not like this is much different. It’s not a big deal. Except that every part of me wants him closer.

The first few months we were apart were hard, but the more time I spent away from him, the easier it became. But when he’s close, the way he is now, it’s torture that he’s not closer. “Thanks, Coop. I’m really excited. I wish I could be in college now.”

“Nah. Don’t rush it,” he says as I release a breath at the realization his hand seems comfortable where it is.

“You don’t like college?” I ask as I adjust myself, scooting up the blanket, which in turn brings Cooper’s hand closer to where I wish it was. I know I told him I only missed him as a friend earlier today, but I ache for him to cross that line–just for tonight, just for this moment.

“I love it,” he says, slowly bunching the fabric of my sundress between his fingers. He’s cautious, like he’s feeling me out as the material pulls away from my legs. I don’t move, hoping it encourages him. “But there are a lot of things I miss about high school.”

“Like what?” Under the blanket, my hand finds his, my pinky hooking on his hand and giving a slight tug until I feel the scratchiness of the blanket against the skin at my hip.

Cooper’s hands are soft in comparison as his finger draws small circles on my stomach. “Like . . . Having my friends all in the same place.” What he’s doing with his mouth feels completely disconnected from what he’s doing with his hands. “I don’t have classes with anyone I knew before.”

“Good thing you’re great at making friends.” I tip my body ever so slightly toward him.

His finger trails along the edge of my lace thong, back and forth, slowly. “Mhmm. None of them do my laundry, though.”

“Do you even need to do laundry more than once a month? You have like 37 pairs of joggers and just as many hoodies.”

“Exactly.” He smirks, and it takes everything in me to not press my lips to his.

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