In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(22)

“Because you’re…Mint.”

He put his hands on either side of my face. “I like the way you think of me.”

I took a deep breath, smelling his cologne, orange and spices, and then he was pulling me toward him, kissing me with that beautiful mouth. It was slow and gentle at first until I scooted closer, rising onto my knees, and he deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in my hair. I pulled away, breathless. The most perfect boy in the world.

“I like you, too,” I said, the understatement of the century, and kissed him again.

A heavy thud made us wrench apart. I twisted to the doorway, heart racing. Coop stood there staring, Red Vines in his hand, two bottles of root beer rolling at his feet.





Chapter 7


Now

If there was a hell on earth, it was this moment.

“Kill your father, then you’re free? Quoting Freud at a college party is too clichéd for you, darling.” In slow motion, Caro walked past me to where Coop stood, leaning in to kiss him. It was a surreal image, like rewatching a beloved movie, only to find the actors suddenly switched and everything now wrong. I looked away, focusing on the way my stiletto heels stabbed twin holes into the grass.

“I, for one, would be sad if Coop’s brand ever changed.” Mint raised his glass. “Long may my favorite roommate darken our otherwise idyllic lives.”

Courtney’s candy-red lips widened into a smile, flashing teeth as white and straight as her husband’s. “Actually, since Minty and I couldn’t make the engagement party, let’s cheers to Caro and Coop.”

The engagement party. Memories surfaced, too fast for me to push back, edges blurred by alcohol but still clear enough to be damning. I refocused, realizing everyone else had lifted their glasses. I hastily added my own, though it was empty.

“To Caroline Rodriguez,” Coop toasted, “a living saint, who rescued me from depression and poverty after law school. May I eventually be worthy of her.”

Caro blushed prettily.

“To Caro and Coop,” everyone sang. I echoed, a beat too late.

“Speaking of depression and poverty, guess who I saw?” Courtney raised her brows. “Eric Shelby. Remember him, always creeping around wherever we went? Figures he’d worm his way into our Homecoming party.”

Caro’s cheeks flushed. “He works here. And you should be nicer to him.”

“I need a drink,” I announced, to no one in particular, then dug my heels out of the dirt and hurried in the direction of the bar.

My plan was unraveling. No one was reacting the way I’d thought. I hadn’t anticipated Caro ambushing me so quickly, hadn’t expected to be shoved into Courtney and Mint, to feel the claustrophobic pressure of Eric somewhere out there, circling us. I hadn’t in a million years expected my own reaction to seeing Coop again.

It changed everything. What chance did I have of showing everyone the newer, truer me—brilliant, beautiful, successful Jessica—if I had to spend all weekend avoiding him? How would I secure my triumph if, at every moment, I had to focus on pushing memories away, acting like I didn’t care?

I thought I’d already beaten this, the stirring in my blood, the prickling awareness of real, flesh-and-blood Coop, only yards behind me. My body was so alert, and he’d barely glanced at me.

I had to leave. Put as much distance between us as possible. The bartender filled my glass to the brim with wine, somehow sensing my need. I shoved money into his tip jar and fled out of the tent, heading toward the velvety blackness of the trees. Tonight was ruined, but I’d recover tomorrow. All was not lost. The important thing was staying away from—

“Running away?”

I froze midstep.

“I guess your brand hasn’t changed much, either.”

I turned slowly, hoping against hope, but there he stood, tall and lit by the glow from the tent, his face half-shadowed.

I straightened. He watched the movement closely, following the way the straps of my dress pulled over my skin. I cleared my throat. “Coming in swinging. That strategy always worked so well for you.”

Coop grinned. A rare thing.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I graduated from Duquette, didn’t I? No matter how hard those bastards tried to stop me.”

I tipped my glass back, letting wine slide down my throat. Talking to him alone is a bad idea. Walk away, Jessica.

“Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass.

I tried not to look at his eyes, but I couldn’t help it; his gaze dragged mine up from the ground. Eyes vivid green, dark-lashed, looking at me like he always did—too intense. Goose bumps crawled across my arms. “If I recall, the old Coop thought Homecoming was stupid.”

“Maybe the new Coop is full of school spirit.” The new Coop—of course. It had been ten years since college. A full year since we’d even talked. Like me, he was different now. It wasn’t just that he was a lawyer, which had always seemed so improbable in college. Or that he lived in a new city, wasn’t joined at the hip with Jack and Frankie and Mint. He was engaged now. He belonged to someone else. To my best friend.

I repeated it to myself, over and over.

“Well,” I said, starting to step around him. “I’m glad you came. If you’ll excuse me.”