Page 6 of Cooper & Jake
“Dude, and get this, we’ve run into the man three times. Three times, man. Each time, Jake seems to have lost any ability to talk at all.”
“He’s lying!” I yell, hoping that Wyatt doesn’t believe a word that’s spewing out of Peyton’s mouth.
I watch as Peyton nods his head, then takes up the spot next to me. He places his phone between us, putting it on speaker. “Tell me, Jake,” Wyatt starts, and I already know I’m not going to like this. “What are you doing right now?”
“What do you mean?” I question, hating how well my two best friends know me.
“Do you happen to have a roll of yarn in your lap and a crochet needle in your hand?”
“Maybe,” I mutter, dropping the crochet hook onto the couch as though he can see me.
“Crocheting is your ‘I have a lot on my mind’ thing, and you know it. Do I need to fly down there? You know I will in a heartbeat.”
“I know. I’m fine, though. Peyton is just overreacting, as he does ninety-nine percent of the time. He doesn’t know how not to be dramatic,” I snark, sticking my tongue out at Peyton.
“Ya know, I do remember hearing about a Cooper one drunken night.”
“You do not,” I say.
“How would you remember if you were wasted off your ass? Anyway, you better talk to him, and you better be making me a fucking blanket since you’re crocheting.”
“See, I’m not the only one who thinks you need to talk to him,” Peyton adds as Wyatt laughs on the other end of the line.
I take one ball of yarn and chuck it at his head. “I never said I wasn’t going to have a conversation with him. And hell, we did talk. Stop acting like I ran away and hid behind a counter or something. I’m a grown-ass man; I know how to talk to people.”
“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands up in mock-surrender, smirking at me. “No need to get all aggressive with me, I’m not one of your fuckboys.”
“Fucking hell,” I groan, tossing my head back. “I’m going down to get breakfast.”
“Oooh, he’s testy today, Wyatt.”
“Goodbye, Wyatt,” I yell as I get up and leave the hotel room.
God, I love my best friends, but damn, they are a handful sometimes. Sometimes I feel like we’re still in our twenties, not in our holy-fuck-almost forties. Except for Peyton, who is actually forty, but acts like he’s fifteen. The elevator chimes as the door opens, and I come face to face with Taylor.
“Hi,” I tell her, looking around the lift to see if Cooper is in here.
“He’s in the room,” she tells me, offering a small smile.
“Hmm?” I ask, knowing damn well what she said.
“Cooper’s in his room still. I wanted to get a run in, and he practically growled at me when I knocked on his door.”
“Still not a morning person?” I ask, pressing the button for the ground floor.
“Definitely not.”
“Wait, you said you knocked on his door? Are you not sharing a room?”
Taylor smirks, placing her hand on her slender hip. “You know damn well that man and I are not together. And I know what you’re trying to ask, but I’m not going to answer that. If you want to know if he has someone in his life, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
The elevator opens, and she waves a manicured hand at me before saying, “Bye,” as she walks out.
Why the hell is everyone saying I’m not talking to him? If anything, he’s not speaking to me. It’s not me who keeps running away every time he’s in my vicinity. The next time I run into him, I’m going to make damn sure he talks to me.
4
COOPER
