Page 8 of Cooper & Jake
“Okay, you better fucking talk to him tonight, Coop. I swear to God, if you don’t, I’m going to strangle you myself. And I know, I know you love being strangled, but you will not enjoy it when I do it.”
I choke on my spit, my eyes darting throughout the room. “Seriously, Taylor?” I ask, hoping no one is listening to our conversation. Taylor knows more about me than she probably wants to know, which, yes, includes the fact that I like to have a hand necklace from time to time. And fabric wrapped around my wrists but now is definitely not the time to talk about that.
“Nobody is paying us any attention. But fine, I’ll change the subject. Do you think there’ll be any dancing at all this weekend? That’s all I want to do—dance.”
“Well, there’s a prom tomorrow night, so I’m sure you’ll be able to dance then.”
Taylor and I step forward, finally getting to the damn front of the line. I guess I didn’t really expect the entire graduating class to come back for the reunion. At the front of the table sit a man and a woman who I recognize as the principal and assistant principal of Gomillion High. Vanessa Newton looks annoyed while Josiah Bushman is sitting next to her playing on his phone. I’ve heard that Mr. Bushman was planning to retire, having been the principal since the school first opened, and by his ‘I don’t want to be here’ attitude, I’m guessing the rumors are true.
“Find your name on the tags and place them somewhere people can see them.”
I find both mine and Taylor’s tags, then pass hers to her while I put mine onto my chest. After tossing the paper backings into the trash, we head into the small gym, seeing that it’s already packed. There’s a small bar at the back of the gym and knowing I’ll need a little confidence boost to talk to Jake, I make my way there right away. On the counter, there’s a list of different drinks they’re offering specially for the reunion.
“Mango margarita or black mojito?” I ask Taylor once the bartender reaches us.
“Both?” she suggests cheekily.
“We’ll have one of each,” I tell the person serving drinks, then turning to Taylor, I add, “We can share both just in case we don’t like one of them.”
“You know me so well.”
The bartender hands over our drinks, and I eye both, turning them around in my hands to get a better look. The black mojito is a dark drink with mint sticking out of the top, and the mango margarita is a yellowish-orange beverage a damn jalapeño on the rim. Spicy and Cooper do not mix. Hell, one time I tried those ramen noodles with the spicy sauce and thought I was going to die from my mouth being on fire. Taylor sees me staring at both drinks and snatches the mango one from my grip.
“Thank you,” I tell her, taking a sip of the mojito. “There was no way I could handle a drink with jalapeño in it. Why wouldn’t they advertise it as being topped with that?”
“Coop, it literally said it in the description. Maybe your mind is just on something else?”
Something or someone.
“Come on, let’s go find someone you know.”
The next hour passes by in a blur. I move from person to person, my confidence growing with each interaction I have. Forsome reason, I’d assumed I was invisible in high school and that no one would remember me. But I’ve run into so many people who have had funny stories of us interacting during school. And many are in awe when I tell them about my job as a vet. It’s validating to realize that I did have more friends in school than I thought.
“Have you tried the bruschetta yet?” Alice asks as another tray of food passes by us. Alice was my lab partner senior year of high school, and the second she saw me, she squealed loudly and jumped into my arms.
“No, let me grab one.”
We each take one of the small plates with the bruschetta on it and take a bite. I lost Taylor to the floor about twenty minutes ago when they started playing music. She’s been wanting to dance the whole night, so there was no way she would pass up the opportunity to shake her tail feather.
“What have you been up to?” I ask her, taking another bite of the finger food.
“I have a salon that I own. I do hair, makeup, and nails. The works. It started off small, but Gomillion needed its own salon, and I love being able to chat and gossip with all the residents of our small town. Like, did you know the deacon we all knew and loved in high school is not out of town as one would like us to think?”
“What do you mean?”
“A little birdie has told me he’s actually in jail. For embezzling. Can you believe it?”
“I cannot,” I deadpan, remembering one reason I was happy to leave this place.
Small towns always have that gossip vibe. Wanting to know every little detail about their next-door neighbor. Making assumptions based on something little they’d seen or overheard. It gets exhausting. Fifteen years ago, after losing Mom, I couldn’thandle it anymore. The whispers and the stares. The fingers that would get pointed my way when they thought I wasn’t looking. It was too much. So, I left. And this is the first time I’ve been back since then.
I’m about to say something else to Alice when Justin Kirkwood steps up to the front stage on the other side of the room. A spotlight hits his face, and he smiles brightly, bringing a microphone up to his mouth. He welcomes everyone, thanking them for coming tonight, and he’s just as charming now as he was back then. It’s no wonder he ran for student body president unopposed. He’s great with crowds, and I completely understand why he’s the reunion chairperson for this weekend. After welcoming us to the event, he tells us about the different icebreaker activities they have planned for this evening.
The sounds drown out around him as Jake comes into view. He’s standing off to the side of Kirk, out of sight from everyone else, but I can see him clearly. And, fuck me, does he ever look good! He’s wearing dark blue jeans with a white button-up shirt. The sleeves are rolled to the elbows, and I am able to see his tattoos on display. His hair is slicked back, and he’s talking quietly with his friend Peyton, whose eyes are bouncing all over the room. Peyton notices me first, jerking his head in an upward motion to say hi. I give him a small wave, butterflies forming in my stomach when Jake’s head snaps up, and he smiles at me.
5
JAKE
