Page 73 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

Me: Sure, Sophie.

Sophie: You’re ridiculous. Forget our plans tonight.

Me: Already did.

Instead of seeing if she responds, I lock my phone, shoving it across the counter and reaching for another cupcake.

Chapter forty-three

SOPHIE

NOW

“Come ooooooon, bestie.” Chastity tugs on my hand, dragging me into a bar we’ve never been in before. She was so excited when my birthday night freed up after what went down with Cooper. I groan internally. I was so stupid this morning. I don’t know what I was thinking. The tension between us hasn’t been nearly as high as it was the day I moved into Marcus’, but there’s always a glance or a brush of our skin or something. And then I read my birthday note, and I just . . . Well, I guess I read into it. I tried to reciprocate the move, but the second I sent it, a gut feeling told me it was not the right one. And Cooper’s reaction only confirmed it. Despite it not being what he expected, the fact that he didn’t say anything specifically about the picture has me craving a Mind Eraser shot.

I can’t exactly claim it’s my birthday since I’m only nineteen and my ID is fake, but for once I jumped at Chastity’s offer to get extra dolled up to guarantee we pass as twenty-one and go dancing to distract myself.

The bar is darker than others around here. There’s no windows. The only light comes from the neon blue bars lining the edges of the ceiling and hanging above the bar. I’m glad I dressed to match the vibe tonight even if it’s not really me. I hope someone thinks I look good and replaces the confidence I lost earlier today.

The black cotton fabric of my dress clings to my body, hitting only a few inches below the black lace underwear Chastity insisted I buy when we went shopping a few weeks ago. She’s in such a hurry to be as grown up as possible. If I could guarantee it meant life was more simple, I’d be in a hurry too. For now, I just follow her lead and let her make some decisions for me. Clearly, I’m not the best at making them for myself. I cringe again recalling the snapchat I sent Cooper. Catching a glimpse of myself in the full wall mirror behind the bar, I take in my loosely curled hair with the top half pinned up, and my makeup much darker than normal. I might not look like me, but I look sexy.

Leaning onto the bartop as we wait for the bartender, I take some of the pressure off my feet, my strappy black heels already rubbing against my skin.

“Your lips look lonely. Do they want to meet mine?” Oh, god, that was a terrible pick-up line. Sounds like something Cooper would say, although when he says cheesy things it’s cute. I think it’s the goofy grin he plasters on his face after. His stupid freaking adorable smile. And his natural charm of a Girl Scout during cookie season. Ugh. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

I turn to face the guy hitting on me. Men are so desperate. But it’s fine. I am too. I’m desperate to forget about Cooper tonight. To be with someone and not think about him running his hand over me instead. To have them think I’m attractive and want to act on it. “They prefer tequila to warm them up at night,” I flirt, leaning into the bar, my chin resting on my palm. The words taste funny, but I’m hoping it’ll soon be replaced with alcohol.

“Well I can take care of that too,” he says with a smirk, gesturing toward the bartender. When he finds his way to us, the guy orders four shots of tequila like he read my mind.

Cooper’s happiness is important to me. I love him too much for it not to be. That doesn’t make this any less hard. It doesn’t make me immune to stupid decisions when I’m missing our relationship too much. But I’m trying. When we aren’t together I’ve been focusing on experiencing new things and becoming a new Sophie–crossing off items on my list that I want to do, the ones that don’t involve other men at least. But right now, I need to feel wanted, and the dance with a hot guy you’ll never see again bullet printed on our list materializes in my head, complete with the little pink hearts Chastity colored around it.

I shoot the clear liquid back, skipping the lime and welcoming the burn. It’s perfect in addition to the two Chastity and I took before we showed up.

“Better?”

“Much. You want to dance?”

“Lead the way.” He holds out his hand, and I take it after tapping Chastity’s shoulder and letting her know I’d be on the dance floor. Finding a gap in the blacklight-lit room, I turn so my back is flush with his chest and grind against him. His hands immediately find my waist, running up and down my sides against the fabric of my dress. Even though I hate myself for it, I pretend it’s Cooper’s hands, warm and pulling me to him like he can’t get enough, like he needs more of me.

A few songs blur by, the room loud and crowded and everything I hate. But this is what I need. Sitting at home lost in my books only leaves me lost in a world where Cooper is every guy and I’m every girl and it always works out for us in the end–but I’m starting to doubt it will work out for us in the end.

I spin into the stranger’s arms, catching him off guard when my lips land on his. He recovers quickly, his hand smoothing along my lower back as he presses our bodies and mouths closer together. Immediately giving him access, his tongue dances with mine, the music and lights and liquor trying to trick me into thinking this moment is magical. It’s all wrong, and nothing feels right, but I welcome the distraction anyway.

Thirty minutes later, I’m being pulled away from the dance for some fresh air and another drink. I don’t know what I’m doing. Part of me thinks I actually need this experience. That I need to be with other guys to be able to know Cooper is the right one, that it’s not nostalgia and comfort that’s making me want him. And the other part of me wonders if I’m doing this to get his attention, to prove to myself that he still wants me and is just fighting it.

Everything in my gut tells me it’s the second one because deep down I know my love for Cooper is more than just two hearts being connected for so long. And even though I know it’s wrong, I go down that path anyway.

“Take a picture with me,” I tug on the T-shirt of the guy whose name I still haven’t learned. We are three shots deep–or maybe four.

The guy leans until he’s pressed against me, fully in the shaking frame of my picture. I hit the round circle in selfie mode and my phone snaps a dark, slightly blurry but still distinguishable photo. Good enough. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, turning on my heel without another word.

Once I’ve locked myself in a stall, I open my Snapchat app and upload the photo I took.

Since it’s nearly midnight, I don’t expect anyone to view my story, but still, I wait to see if Cooper does. I’m not sure what he replaced our drive-in movie plans with tonight, and I wonder if he’s out at a bar too.

I actually go to the bathroom and wash my hands before opening the app again. Clicking to view my own story, I tap the eyeball with a “3” next to it. A girl from my biology class. Chastity–I should probably go find her. My stomach threatens to lodge itself in my throat when I see Cooper’s name third.

I pray his jealousy overrides everything, that he asks where I’m at and comes to find me, to claim me as his. He’s never liked the idea of me with anyone else. Maybe it’s enough for him to snap out of it, for him to feel how I felt when I saw him with Kylie, for him to end this game we’re playing.

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