Page 80 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

COOPER

NOW

The massive bonfire flame crackles as I round the side of Marcus’ house. I spot a few of my old football friends, but I turn toward the house first. Not wanting to wait any longer to see Sophie, I let myself in through the porch sliding door. I’m losing my damn mind. Now that we’re back to being friends, we haven’t gone more than a few days without seeing each other until the radio silence I initiated on her birthday two weeks ago. I was sticking with the “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” rule–and I had nothing nice to say about seeing that Snapchat picture of Sophie with another guy. She turns to someone else whenever things aren’t perfect between us, like she doubts we could be right if we aren’t some golden couple. She said that to me once . . . that she wishes we were like my parents. Maybe the fact that things aren’t easy between us anymore is part of what makes me so hesitant. I used to be able to read her mind, anticipate what she needed. It seems I’ve lost that touch, and maybe it’s time to admit we aren’t as meant to be as I once believed.

I’ve been simmering in the anger I refuse to accept I played a hand in, but now I’m having withdrawals. It has nothing to do with the fact that I need to know if she’s with another guy, or that I can’t get the image of her nearly naked out of my head. I don’t look at that picture every day or anything either.

Lying to myself, I head down the hallway to Sophie’s room.

Even without flicking on the bedroom light, I see her light pink comforter covering the mattress on the floor. The book she must be currently reading is on her pillow. A picture of Sophie on my shoulders in a pool is thumbtacked to the wall next to her bed. We were playing chicken with Troy and Emily. It’s from three summers ago, the first time we started dating. Time is strange. We’ve broken up, just like Troy and Emily did. But unlike them, we found our way back to each other. We always do. I hope we always do.

Realizing she’s not in her room, I turn to leave, but Marcus’ voice stops me in my tracks. “Is that what you had on earlier?”

“No. I felt like wearing something different.” That sounded like . . . I step into the main living space. Sophie.

She spins on her heel, and I fall in love with her all over again. Jesus Christ, she’s gorgeous. Usually I prefer the oversized shirt, sleep shorts and messy bun falling off her head version of Sophie she reserves for home. That was before I saw the little black dress version of Sophie. The cotton fabric is skin tight–thin straps and way too short. It hugs her body perfectly. Her usual curls cascade over her shoulders, but for some reason today they make her look older. Maybe it’s the smokey eye thing she has going on. Or the fact that I’m not distracted by another guy and can fully take her in. Whatever it is–fuck. If I was a cartoon, my eyes would be popping out of my head right about now.

“Hey, man,” Marcus greets me, oblivious to any tension between Sophie and I–whether it’s angry or sexual I’m not sure.

I return the greeting to my friend, but my eyes stay locked on the girl in front of me. How the hell am I supposed to take them off her?

“What were you doing in my room?”

I roll my eyes at her insinuation that I don’t belong in her space. Marcus catches onto our unstable relationship status and excuses himself from the room.

Grabbing her by the wrist, I pull her into her room and close the door behind us without bothering to turn on the lights. The glow from the moon and the bonfire through her window is enough to illuminate her body, arm folded across her chest as she glares.

I scan her body, and she stands there, letting me. My fist twitches at my side, a strong urge to bite into it and release some of the tension building.

“You can stop staring now,” Sophie snaps a moment later, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

“Why are you dressed like this?” I need to know who it’s for.

She shrugs. “I can dress however I want.” Her hands move to her hips like it’ll help make a point.

I now have an unobstructed view of her chest. Her dress reveals the perfect amount of cleavage, like she’s wearing a push-up bra, and the diamond sun necklace I finally gave her rests perfectly between her breasts. Fuck. If I stare much longer, I’m going to need to adjust myself. I force my eyes to stay on her face. “What are you doing, Sophie?”

“I’m trying something new since what I was doing before wasn’t getting me what I want,” she says confidently.

“So, what? You’re trying to make me jealous again?”

“I’m trying to make you want me.”

Jesus Christ, she’s infuriating, and this is exactly why we can’t be friends. Her being around other guys makes me jealous as fuck, but it also pisses me the hell off.

Her eyes flash to my fist clenched at my side. “Cooper,” she whispers.

“What,” I snap as my body reacts opposite by taking a step closer to her.

“Do you think I look good?”

I can’t resist my hand gripping her hip, needing to validate her. The way her breath catches at the contact makes my dick twitch. Fuck. How could she not think she looks anything but amazing? “You’re gorgeous.” Her eyes search mine for sincerity, and I close the distance between us until her fingers latch onto my hoodie pocket and my breath is on her ear. My thumb brushes across her jaw before I bury my fingers into her hair. “Drop dead, can’t think straight, do something stupid, kind of gorgeous.”

“You didn’t think so on my birthday.” Her words are barely a breath against my lips but bring me back to reality like a bucket of water instantly turning red burning embers black.

I pull back, my hand falling away from her even though she still clings to me. “When you were taking pics with other guys.” I deadpan, lust replaced by disgust. It makes me sick to think about her with someone else.

“I wanted to be with you on my birthday. But you practically forced me to cancel our plans.”

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