“You seem to really be enjoying that class. Have you ever considered going into psychology or becoming a therapist?”
“Sure, but although I like the class, that profession doesn’t interest me.” He glances from the road to me quickly before returning to the road ahead. “It’s the first time a professor has treated me like my thoughts matter.”
“That’s amazing, babe. I’m happy for you.”
There’s a pause as I load the university’s student portal on my phone to see if my advanced business course test has been graded. His hand covers my thigh, and he asks, “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine. I’ve been stressing about this test score for a week, and it’s still not graded.”
Pulling under the lights of the gas station, he parks at the pump. Not wanting him to rush around to open the door, I hop out. “What can I get you?”
“A soda.”
“You got it.” I drop my phone onto the seat and head inside. Making a beeline to the soda machine, I pull two large cups. But with all the choices, I debate whether I want to replenish my electrolytes or run off sugar for the rest of the night.
Sugar wins.
I fill one cup and then stick the other under the fountain. Holding the button, I look out the window at that incredible car and the man pumping gas into it.
Three months have flown fast. Cooper and I have settled into our relationship, generally stress-free. There’s just something cozy about my place, so we still spend more time at my apartment, like before, but it’s fun to visit his palace in the sky.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
That voice, the one that used to shoot fear through my bones, causes contempt to fill me instead. My body still tenses, the cup wobbling in my hand. I hate that I give my weaknesses away.
My gaze darts beside me to the man I hoped I’d never see again. Troy walks around me, checking out my lower half. “Girl, you’re looking good. How’ve you been?”
I glance out the window once more to Cooper. The last thing I want him to do is see me talking to Troy. And that’s the last thing I want to do. I keep my mouth shut and start for the door.
The attendant gripes, “You need to pay for those cups.”
Digging into my pocket, I pull out a five-dollar bill that I earned in tips and return to set it on the counter with no intention of heading back to retrieve them next to where Troy is standing.
“What’s the big rush, Story?” Troy asks.
I push through the door and head for the car. But I hear the bell behind me chime once more. I squeeze my eyes closed as dread chills my veins. Just get in the car and go.
Cooper finishes and sees me over the pump. “No hot dog or drinks?”
“Changed my mind. Let’s try that new chicken place down the street.”
“Hey, Story . . .” Troy says, “come hang out.” My stomach does somersaults as Cooper’s gaze travels over my shoulder. Oh no. “Like old times,” Troy stupidly goes on. Please shut up. Please shut up. Please shut up.
Cooper hangs the handle on the pump. I move quicker, reaching him just as he shuts the fuel door on the car. “We need to go.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Cooper comes around the pump, but then his feet stop.
Looking back, Troy has stopped in the middle of the next lane. I’ve only heard about Cooper’s past, but I was fine with that. A vague memory resurfaces outside Cooper’s building that night last summer of Troy saying he knew the guy having the party but hadn’t seen him in a while.
A knife twists in my chest as I try to figure out the connection between them. I hate lies . . . How did I not piece this together sooner?
Seeing them staring not only confirms that they know each other but also that there’s bad blood between them. So why did Troy want to go to Cooper’s party if they hate each other? I have a feeling Troy was instigating a fight that night. Just like he is now.
I begin to panic that I’m about to see both in action as well. “Let’s go, Cooper.”
Troy howls. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? The two of you are together?” He goes to the back of his truck where his buddy Brian hops out. “Check this out, B. The rich kid from the city and the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. It’s like Romeo and Juliet.”
Cooper takes my hand and pulls me close. With his eyes fixed on Troy, he whispers in my ear, “I’ll handle this. Go ahead and get in the car.”
“I don’t want you handling it. I want us to go.” I tug his hand toward the car, but his body doesn’t budge. “Come on, let’s go together. Just walk away.”
Troy props himself against his truck as if this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen in a while. “You gonna listen to your old lady, Haywood?”
“Fuck off, Hogan.” Cooper stands his ground, but he’s not filled with tension. Adrenaline is not coursing through him, judging by his actions. Instead, he’s calm.
He’s eerily calm, like the storm that comes without warning.
I’ve never once been afraid of him, but right now, I’m afraid of the destruction he’ll leave behind.
I move next to him and wrap myself around his middle. It’s how we stand together, so close, all the time that it’s unnatural when we don’t. When his arm—hard muscle and formidable strength—comes around me, I know I’ve reached the Cooper I know.
Looking down at me, he says, “Don’t worry, babe. I can handle him.”
“I don’t want you to.” I try to smile, but it feels like I’m failing. “I want us to get chicken and go home.”
“What’s it going to be, Haywood?” Troy taunts. “You want to tango with me? Or eat chicken with your whore . . .”
I hit Troy with my own glare this time. “Whore? You never got close enough to know, unlike him.” I shrug. “If having sex until we’re sweaty, exhausted, and depleted of orgasms makes me a whore—I’m guilty as charged.” The smile is wiped from Troy’s face. “But again, you wouldn’t know.”
“Maybe cunt fits better.”
Cooper jerks forward. My grip tightens, holding him back, but the storm is brewing, and I know I won’t be able to control it for long. “Cooper?” His eyes connect with mine, and I whisper, “Choose me.”
Without hesitation, he turns us around, and we walk to the car. He opens the door for me and then keeps his eye on Troy as he returns to the driver’s side and gets inside.
Troy doesn’t stop us, though we can hear him yelling as we pull away—name-calling and stupid stuff that we’re insulated from inside the car.
A few blocks down from the gas station, Cooper asks, “So you’re hungry for chicken?”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I just nod. “I heard the spicy sandwich is good.”
It’s nice to hear him laugh. I’m already feeling lighter after that encounter. Then he asks, “Why me?”
“Why you what?”
“Why did you sleep with me? We’d only known each other for a short time. Why’d you choose me?”
Reaching over, I scrape my nails at the base of his hairline on the back of his neck. As I look at him, his gaze shifting between me and the road, I think back on those first few days when we were stuck together in my apartment. “I . . .” I start but stop, wanting to gather my thoughts. It wasn’t his kindness, though that’s what got him in the door. Nor was it his eyes that extended a mutual trust I needed to be reassured. “I think I knew you were the man I wanted to be with, in all ways, when you told me you had seen me at the party last summer and that you didn’t want any secrets between us. I feel like every failed relationship I’ve had was buried in lies and omissions.”
The smile I expect doesn’t come, but then he says, “Oh, yeah? That’s what did it?”