Page 99 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

“Okaaay,” she draws out the word. “I can get behind that. What are you thinking?”

“That maybe I could go stay with Dean for a couple of weeks before school starts?”

She smooths her thumb across my cheek. “I think that’s a great idea.” Her eyes spark like a lightbulb above her head, as if it was her own idea. “He’s been doing well in Costa Rica, coming to terms with his own decisions and figuring out what’s next for him.”

Decisions? I make a mental note to figure out what she means. “It’s settled then. Will Dad be okay with it?”

“You let me worry about your father. You just focus on clearing your head, planning your future, and deciding if that is in alignment with Cooper.”

“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. I want things to be fixed right now, but I know I’m going to have to put in the work and stop avoiding it like I have been for years.

“Everything is going to be okay, honey.”

“What if I make things worse, Mom?” I watch my finger tug on a strand of hair, embarrassed that I’ve spent years letting stupid thoughts get in my way. “What if it’s too late to get him back?” I whisper.

“That boy has fought your father for you. He’s been a few words short of trying to convince us that he loves you more than we do.” The corner of her lips turn up. “It won’t be too late.”

Chapter sixty-one

COOPER

NOW

Not even binge watching all four seasons of Beauty & the Beast–save for the last episode–can get the memory of Sophie screaming that she loves me out of my head. Except for the vision it alternates with, of her under me on the kitchen counter.

Her words play over and over like a song permanently stuck on the repeat setting.

You can’t do anything with a picture. But you can do whatever you want with me.

You feel so good inside me.

Come for me, Cooper.

Sulking in my room about our inevitable downfall for the past week probably isn’t the best decision. But what the fuck else am I supposed to do? I know I need to take Marcus’ advice. That I need to fix things with her so we can figure out how to be friends. But I don’t know where to start. I at least prepared for the first quarter of my senior year. I also started the training course for my real estate test. I’ve turned down anyone asking me to go out outside of mandatory back-to-school fraternity events.

But tonight, I knew it was time to get out of my house and out of my head.

Ethan and I walk into Jameson’s like we own the place. We probably could have bought it by now with all the money we spend here.

“Hey, Jess,” Ethan flirts, and I chuckle. He won’t leave her alone. Luckily, she’s a good sport.

“Hey, boys,” she says as she turns from the beer taps to face us, unfazed by his charm. She pours us two vodka Red Bulls without asking for our order and slides them across the wooden bar, taking my cash in return.

“Thanks,” we say in unison.

“What are you getting into tonight?”

“Trouble,” Ethan says, clinking his glass to mine. “Making Coop forget about Sophie for a night.”

Confusion etches into Jess’ face as I elbow him. Hard. Her eyes shift to the other end of the bar before coming back to us, pity now in her expression. “Let me know when you need a refill. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

“Pool?” Ethan asks.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” We make our way to the billiards room off to the side of the bar, one of the orange felt lined tables available. I rack the balls as Ethan retrieves cues from the stand on the wall. He still hasn’t come back by the time I’m finished, so I look up, freezing in place. Even through the dim red lighting, the disgust on his face is clear. Following his line of vision, I’m met with a view I’d be happy to never see again.

JT leans against one of the pool tables, feet crossed at the ankles, chalking the end of his cue. Does Ethan even know who he is? I cross the room, gaining Ethan’s attention only when I’m in front of him. “What’s up?” I ask, ignoring the rage I feel inside me toward JT for a reason I’m unaware of yet–besides the obvious. I don’t know why I hate this guy so much more than any of the others. More than the guy Sophie posted a selfie with. More than the one she hooked up with the night of the 80s party. Maybe because I feel like he started it. He was the first one to take her away from me when all I wanted was for her to come back.

“This fuckhead is talking shit about Sophie,” he growls quietly, not ready to draw attention to us.

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