Page 17 of The Off-Limits Rule: Extended Edition

Lucy:Putting on comfy pjs and being lazy at home. You?

I turn on the shower and wait for it to heat up while I stare at my phone, willing his response to come through quickly. Almost instantly, I see that wonderful little dot-dot-dot icon appear, and I bounce on the balls of my feet, waiting for the text. But then the dots disappear. And then reappear. And then disappear again. This time, they don’t reappear, and my heart drops. He must have gotten busy…

My shoulders slump, and I set my phone face down, trying to convince myself that I don’t even care if he texts me back or not. But that’s not true, is it? Because now I’m placing my palms on the countertop and staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what Cooper sees when he looks at me. I’m wearing a loose side braid and a light-pink jersey knit dress. I have bronzer on my cheeks and mascara on my lashes, but that’s it. Does he think I look like a child compared to the women he’s used to? I saw Bailey—and I could tell they’ve had a history—and she and I havenothingin common.

I put my hands on my boobs and squish them up, looking at myself from every angle, and then let them drop again with a sigh. The only words that come to mind areplainandmediocre.If I were a color, I’d be beige. There’s nothing exciting about beige. If everything Drew implies about Cooper is true, I’m sure he’s used to red, turquoise, and chartreuse.

When I start to feel antsy about Cooper still not texting me back, I decide to suspend my self-scrutinizing and shed myclothes. I shower off, exfoliating and scrubbing other people’s gross hair off my body until I smell like a Hawaiian flower. I pull on a pair of gray joggers, a sports bra, and a black tank top, and that’s that. I’ve officially completed my not-going-anywhere-for-the-night look.

I check my phone, registering that there are no new notifications because Cooper never bothered to text me back. That’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t care. This is me officially giving up on anything concerning Cooper James. He’s probably getting showered (Do not think about Cooper in the shower…or…on second thought, yes, let’s do) and dressing himself to the nines so he can go clubbing with a beautiful woman in a slinky little dress right now. She’ll be all coy smiles and tantalizing hair flips and brushing her fingers across his biceps, and Cooper will lavish her with flirts and attention all night. They’ll be a beautiful pair full of charm and charisma.

And now I’m the most jealous human being on the face of the earth. I’m almost certain my skin is turning green.

I throw my head over and wind my hair up in a towel, deciding I need to get out of my head before I do something weird, like track Cooper down and stalk him with binoculars all night. What I need is some music.

Going to my room, I put in my earbuds and turn on one of Ariana Grande’s old albums. I like to think I’m a great dancer, which is exactly why I never dance anywhere besides alone in my room where no one can point out the falseness of that statement.

For three whole minutes, I tune out the rest of the world and move. I twerk. I shimmy. I throw my hands over my head and roll my body, pretending I’m Beyoncé and have just stepped into a club to give everyone a surprise performance.I know all this fierceness is a lot to handle, boys, but you’re going to have to try to contain yourselves.Saying it feels great to let loose is an understatement. I feel free. I feel like laughing at myself…I feel someone watchingme.

Whipping around, I find Cooper (Cooper!) leaning against my doorframe, the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone, grinning devilishly with a pizza box in his hands.

I rip out my earbuds and chuck them to the other side of the room like maybe that will convince him I wasn’t just doing what he saw me doing. His smile only grows, and he gently lifts the box a little higher. “Someone order a pizza?”

My cheeks are melting off my face. “What…what are you doing here?!”

He ignores my question (mainly because the answer is clearly in his hands; he moonlights as a pizza delivery man) and, instead, nods toward me, his eyes grazing from my head to my toes and back up again. “I like that move you did.”

“Which move?” I ask, sounding pained and definitely like I’m dreading his answer, but also hopeful that maybe I looked like Shakira that whole time and not a member of the Wiggles like I suspect.

“Where you kinda shook your butt but also did that jumping thing. And I like your twisty towel up there too.”Oh good god, someone please push me out of my window.

I groan and shove my face into my hands, contemplating if I’d rather move to Mexico or Alaska. Both would accomplish the goal of never having to face Cooper again. “No! Why do embarrassing things keep happening to me around you? Please forget you ever sawanyof that.”

He’s chuckling now, so pleased with himself for witnessing this moment. “Why? I don’t want to forget it—it was cute.”

Cute?!I’m a twenty-nine-year-old woman! I’m not supposed to becutewhen dancing to sexy music in my room.

“Just stop,” I say, crossing the room, planting my hands on his chest, and pushing him out. Except, this is making it worse because I can feel his hard muscles under his crisp button-down shirt, taunting me. “Go. Out. Now.”

Cooper’s laugh tickles every nerve ending in my body as he half-heartedly resists my attempted shoving. “Why? I was liking the show.”

“Well, thecute showis over now, so you’ll have to go watch some bunnies in sunglasses or something to get your fix.” I mean to say it as a joke, but my words come out with a little too much acid slathered in an extra helping of bitterness.

His smile fades, and he hits the brakes, letting me know the only reason he was budging before was because he was allowing it. Now he’s a stone statue, staring down at me with searching eyes. “Wait, did I upset you?”

I fix my gaze on his chest and continue my attempt to move this mountain so I don’t have to look him in the eye. “No. Of course not. I don’t get upset. Ever.”

“I did. I totally did. I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Like I said, I thought it was—”

“Ohmygosh,if you say ‘cute’ one more time, I’m going to shove your face into that pizza.”And someone please get this obnoxious towel off my head!

I tear it off in one swooping movement and spin around to retreat into my room. I will barricade this door and fashion a makeshift delivery basket out my window for sustenance and supplies. Mark my words, I will never look at Cooper again.

Except, he shifts the pizza to one hand and catches hold of my hand with the other. He tugs me back in a sort ofDancing with the Starsmove, and I bump into his chest. I’m so close to him now Ican smell the mint gum on his breath when he asks, “Is that what made you mad? That I called you cute?” His dark-blond eyebrows are pulled together, and I’m surprised to see the happy-go-lucky beach boy can look stern…severe…heart-palpitatingly masculine.

My only response is a shrug and forced swallow.

I watch his Adam’s apple go up and down, and suddenly this hallway feels like a teeny-tiny thimble. “See, the problem is, I can’t take it back, because itwascute.”Yeah, yeah, I get it. You think I’m a cutie patootie.But then his voice drops to a husky whisper, and his thumb rubs a subtle path across the back of my hand. “Sodamn cute.”

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