Page 70 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

“Well, talk to Sophie and one of you let me know?”

“Definitely. Thanks, Marcus.”

Chapter forty-one

SOPHIE

NOW

“Do you really need all your books over here, Soph?” Cooper chuckles as he sets a box on the carpet of my new room, making it look way lighter than it is.

“Yes. They are my emotional support books.” I grin, running my hand over the last dress I hung in my closet.

“All of them?” He quirks a brow.

I shrug. “Sometimes I just need to get lost in someone else's world, ya know?”

He crosses the room to where I’m standing and leans casually against the wall, feet crossed at the ankles, hands in the pockets of his joggers. His T-shirt hangs perfectly off the muscles he’s maintained since he played football. This past spring quarter he joined an intramural dodgeball team with some of his fraternity brothers. Who knew throwing rubber balls at people could make you look like that–with his sleeves tight around his biceps, and the veins popping in his forearms as he carries my eight boxes of books in here with ease. Skating with me at least a few times each week has probably helped keep him in shape too.

Skating has once again become the perfect way for us to hang out as friends. There’s no real risk of getting too close, of our skin accidentally touching for too long. It keeps us out of dark rooms full of bad choices waiting to be made. Flying down the concrete in crisp late-March air with the sun peeking through is all happy and light–just like our friendship has been these past two months since Cooper and I decided to be friends.

“Speaking of someone else’s world. How are you feeling about this new phase?”

Right after Cooper and I agreed to be friends back in February he had a solution to ease the tension between my dad and I. His little girl growing up has been hard on him, and it’s definitely stolen my joy from trying to make the most of my college experience. I finally convinced both of my parents to let me move into my brother’s old room at Marcus’ house during the break between winter and spring quarter.

If it were anyone else, they probably would have said no. But Marcus is practically family, and they trust him to look after me as much as they’d trust Dean. “I’m excited. Thank you for helping make this happen, Coop. This freedom already feels good.”

Worry flashes at the mention of my freedom. We’ve successfully skirted around any topic of dating. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, but I don’t know if he’s been seeing anyone. I haven’t even been on a date. It’s not hard for me because I prefer keeping to myself. But even if it was, I’d still do what it takes to stay on track to our friendship turning back into a relationship. I just wish I knew when that was going to happen. I don’t think he’d be happy if I were with someone else, but I get the impression he’s still not ready for us to be together.

“Good. I’m glad,” Cooper says, uncrossing his ankles to take a step toward me. “I’m proud of you, Soph.”

“I didn’t do anything.” I close almost all the distance between us, my breath catching at his nearness. It’s not like we haven’t been close. We’ve partied a few times, and I’ve fallen asleep in his bed. The weight of his arm around my shoulder when he runs into me on campus and walks me to class is a constant phantom feeling whenever he’s not around.

“Sure you did.” He tucks a curl behind my ear, his finger whispering against my skin and sending a chill down my spine. I do my best not to seem affected as he retracts his hand back to his pockets. “You stuck to your guns, did research to prove to your dad this could be a good move for you, and you didn’t give up until he agreed. You’ve never lived anywhere else. I know it’s a big adjustment for you.”

He’s not wrong. As excited as I am, I’m equally terrified. I’m used to the house I’ve grown up in, the only place I’ve ever known and the routines I’ve perfected, ones I’m comforted by. I lean against the wall, my movement taking me centimeters from Cooper. “Yeah, you’re right. I hope things are better here. Maybe I can have a better relationship with Dad with the distance too.”

His tongue barely wets his lips and his eyes flash to my mouth. But then he blinks, like he just registered what I said. “Wait what?”

“My dad,” I repeat, my pulse thumping a few beats faster. “I hope the distance is good for us. That he sees I can make my own choices.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Me too. I’m going to get the last few boxes. I’ll be back.”

“Alright,” I whisper, my heart sinking as he leaves me standing there tugging on the end of a curl. Snapping myself out of the fantasy inside my head where Cooper kisses me and we finally find our way back, I sit on the floor in front of the boxes of my books.

My brother didn’t leave much behind when he left for Costa Rica. I think he got rid of most of his things. But he’s got two vertical stacks of books in the corner of the room that go halfway up the wall. The bookshelves that Cooper made me are bolted down and since this move is only until Dean returns in a year, I didn’t think it was worth the hassle to move them. So, I unpack my books, lining them in stacks next to his. The third box has my favorite novels–including the ones from Cooper. I pull out the one from last year, flipping to the last page and running my fingers over the note: The year I realized I don’t know you anymore.

We’ve done a good job re-learning everything there is to know about each other over the past few months, picking up where we left off over the summer after he left this note. I've learned how he likes his coffee now, the names of all his professors and his new ticks and tells when it comes to homework and when he doesn’t understand something. I know his current favorite country artists. His drink of choice and where he wants to eat when he’s hungover. Way more about the real estate industry than I ever planned to learn. I’ve noticed the ever so slight change in the way he dresses and how he styles his hair. But I don’t know the one thing I want to–how he feels about us . . . the endgame, til death do us part, you’re the only one for me version of us.

With three more months until my birthday, I wonder what this year's note will be, and I wonder what our relationship dynamic will be then. I glance up at the door softly scruffing against the carpet. Cooper walks in holding the last cardboard box with the word “bathroom” scribbled on the outside in Sharpie. He pauses barely inside the doorway, eyes falling to the book in my hand and my fingers pressed into the page below his handwriting. His eyes meet mine next, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he worries it between his teeth. It all happens in an instant and in the next one he continues on his path to the in-room bathroom.

Oh, God. That box. I hop up, then slow my roll so Cooper doesn’t suspect anything. He hasn't just been helping me move. He’s been helping me move in–meaning, unpacking my boxes with me. He can shove my underwear in a drawer all day, but he does not need to be digging around that box. It’s not a conversation I’m ready to have with him–a conversation that crosses the line we are so carefully tightroping.

I’m thankful Mom and Dad were gone the day my vibrator showed up in the mail. The packaging wasn’t discreet at all. When I was scrolling for new books to read a few weeks ago, an ad popped up for an app I’d never heard of. It not only reads sex scenes aloud like an audiobook but syncs with a vibrator. I’d never used even a regular one before, but I’m desperate. It’s like I’ve gotten on a Merry-Go-Round. I’m spinning round and round holding on for dear life in an attempt to stay in the friend zone like Cooper asked. It’s moving too fast to get off, and if I leap, I’ll fall right into Cooper. I’m not sure he’s ready to catch me yet.

The judgment I have for myself from actively trying to not want Cooper is driving me insane. He’s not doing anything specifically to make me want him again. Nothing besides everything. Even the mindless tugging of his hoodie strings makes me want to claim him as mine, and I’m grasping at straws for coping mechanisms here, for holding true to my word. So instead, I’ve been dragging my foot, attempting to slow down my Merry-Go-Round with distractions. Last month I read seventeen books. My new attempt is this app.

Nothing will compare to the way it feels when Cooper touches me. That level of ecstasy only exists with him. That being said, sometimes a girl needs to be taken care of–especially with this tension that’s been progressively building over the past two months.

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