Page 97 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

“I have Cooper. He’s all I need.” My heart skips at the words. God, I love her.

“I’m not saying Cooper shouldn’t be your friend, but he shouldn’t be your whole world, Soph. It’ll keep you from experiencing college. You agreed to this list. Half of the things on here were your idea–things that weren’t meant to be done with Cooper or with a boyfriend at all.”

“We made that list before we got back together . . .” Sophie’s voice trails off like she’s wondering if that matters.

“Part of you wants to do all those things, though. You need to go do them.”

Silence is Sophie’s only response.

“And what are you going to do when he has his fraternity stuff? What about when he graduates two years before you and has to work all the time? You’ll be stuck at school alone.”

Again, Sophie doesn’t speak. She doesn’t argue or answer. Fuck. Am I the only one who can’t see this all makes no sense. Am I being naive? “Do you really think so?” Insecurity laces her soft voice as she questions her friend like the concern is valid, and betrayal boils my blood. She doesn’t believe in us the way I do. She didn’t two years ago, and she still doesn’t.

Not waiting to hear the rest of the conversation, I veer toward the stairs. Not bothering to glance in the direction of their voices, I take the steps two at a time until I get to the top and immediately slip into my old room, closing the door behind me.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, my mind whirls trying to decipher what all this means–everything Jack said paired with Sophie’s lack of saying much at all. I ignore the text that comes through from Troy asking if I want to play a game of basketball in the driveway.

I ignore the one from my mom asking if I can bring a bag of ice outside.

I ignore all three from Sophie asking where I am.

I’m sitting at my desk, elbows digging into my knees, fingers digging into my hair as the fourth one comes through.

Sophie: I’m starting to worry, Coop. Are you okay?

What if everyone is right? What if I’ll just be a distraction from everything she should experience in college? Even Sophie thought I needed to be apart from her when I started college. How is this any different? If she believed it for me, she must believe it for her too. I hate not knowing what I should do. I always know what I want.

Me: No.

Sophie: What?! Tell me where you are.

The panic in her voice can be heard perfectly in my mind through her text. I don’t know what choice needs to be made, but maybe when I see her, I’ll know.

My head jerks toward my door flying open a few moments later, panic emanating from the beautiful girl in front of me.

“Hey.” She rushes to me, her hands gripping either side of my head. “What’s wrong?”

My gaze bores through her, as if I can see the wall behind her. Fuck. How can our relationship be wrong when her existence alone makes everything feel right?

“Coop.”

I glance up to meet her gaze, shaking my head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Pressing my head to her stomach, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her toward me. She grips my head, her fingers massaging through the strands at my neck. “Are you sure? You can talk to me.” Her voice is soft and sweet and full of worry.

Instead of answering, I breathe in the vanilla and jasmine on her skin, letting the calmness she brings me win this battle, wondering if this feeling alone is enough to win the war.

Chapter sixty

SOPHIE

NOW

Cooper, 21; Sophie, 19

The stream of light shimmering through the crack in the curtain wakes me. Rolling over with squinty eyes and a pounding headache, I reach for my phone on the floor next to my mattress. 8:36 reads in white letters overtop a picture of Chastity and I floating on tubes at the lake last summer. I fling my arm to the other side of the bed, hoping it will land on Cooper but knowing it won’t. Instead, I’m met with a rush of memories from last night. Going to JT’s house. Fighting with him. Calling Cooper. Fighting with him. The rain. The sex. Him leaving.

All our words come flooding back, and I run through them again with a clearer mind. I still meant what I said–that I love him, that I don’t want anyone except him. But the harsh reality is that he didn’t say it back.

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