Thanks for the feedback! And sorry again for taking so long to post again. I hope you enjoy the next part! ---MAC
Chapter 12.
Okay, I have to admit something. I've pictured this before. Cooper inviting me into his bed, I mean. I know, I know, I'm pathetic. I think we've already figured out that I'm a schoolgirl with a schoolgirl crush, and so to fit that persona even more, I'm admitting that I have spent, oh, quite a lot of time sitting around picturing in great detail every romantic fantasy that I have about Cooper.
In my imagination, Cooper and I are kissing and it's romantic and soft and perfect. The main thing to note from this lovely scene is that Cooper and I are kissing of our own free will. We kiss because we want to kiss. Not because some jealous psycho is trying to kill me and we have to trick him out of hiding so we can catch him and go back to our platonic (aka loveless) lives in which we live under one roof but in two separate bedrooms.
In my imagination, Cooper breaks the kiss and breathlessly whispers that he loves me. He takes my hand and he leads me (or, if I choose in my fantasies to have just dieted, carries me) to his bedroom. And then… well… and then, I try to stop imagining anything, because Cooper's my friend, and it's wrong to think of friends like that. You know. Naked. Making, um… out. With me. Or anyone for that matter. So I try really hard not to go there. I try to end the fantasy at the doorway to his bedroom.
And Cut. The End. You know.
I'll admit that sometimes my mind sends me flashes of more fantasy, but that's it. Just flashes.I swear!
So anyway… yeah, I've pictured it. Being led into his bedroom, I mean. And it's never gone quite like this. With him asking me to sleep in his bedroom very uncomfortably and formally and then promising to be a perfect gentleman, assuring me that my presence in his bedroom is the only way the two of us could ever get to sleep.
It's just a bit less romantic than my imaginings.
And yet… in this situation, it's perfect and sweet and just so Cooper. I mean, never in a million years would Cooper actually ask me to sleep in his room for any reason. Ever! But… he's worried about me right now. In the past couple of days, he's made that very clear. Crystal clear.
He didn't whisper he loved me in that romantic way or anything. But… I know at this moment, as I walk toward him, and his bedroom, that he does. Love me, I mean. Cooper Cartwright loves me, Heather Wells. In his own way. In a platonic way. And that really is enough. In many ways, it's even better than those romantic movies in my mind starring Cooper and me.
… although, fine, okay, if he ever tells me that he loves me in that other – more romantic – way, I'd be one foolishly giddy lady! You caught me.
"Here, I'll get that," he says, walking past me to grab the blanket off the couch, since I only really grabbed the pillow. I guess I was just in a rush, you know, to get to his bedroom. Who can blame me for that?
"Thanks," I stammer, as he walks past me and I snap out of all my thoughts and finally notice something major that I can't believe I missed before!
He's shirtless!
And I can't help staring at his naked chest as he walks past me. My mouth falls open as I try to quickly take it all in nonchalantly. He's wearing sweatpants, and nothing else! I'm seeing Cooper… hot Cooper!... in all his muscular, tanned glory! Tufts of masculine, dark hair cover his beautiful expanse of chest, which is so sexily toned. And he's toned like someone that just runs a lot and gets exercise. He doesn't do gyms. I know this because I live with him, but looking at him, you can just tell. I mean, he's not all bulging biceps and perfect definition. He's not V-shaped. He's…
… perfect.
Honestly perfect.
As he bends down to grab the blanket on the couch, I see his back, which is also perfect. Toned, like the rest of him. And while he's lightly tanned, you can see a definite difference in his forearms and shoulders. Cooper's not a beach person. His chest is a little tanned from being in the sun occasionally shirtless, but mostly his arms and face sport that perfect tan, and as you get closer to where his clothing goes, it all fades. And that's just so cute, I can't even explain!
I'm not going to be able to share a bed with him! As it is, I want to rip his clothes off with my teeth when he's fully dressed in multiple layers! How am I supposed to sleep inches from him, knowing such godly perfection is right beside me. Him being such a good friend and so kind and giving to me only makes it worse. It's like sleeping beside Superman! Or Clark Kent, rather: a god-like but real guy.
And to think, I came downstairs because I was staring at the ceiling in my own room and couldn't fall asleep! What a solution, laying next to my number one all-time fantasy. That'll put me right to sleep. Sure.
I mean, he's seriously everything I want. He's the only one I want. And I truly believe he's the only man I'll ever want.
I sigh sadly, as something in my stomach tightens and I get a sinking feeling that he does notfeel quite so deeply for me.
"What's wrong?" he asks, walking back over to me, his brows furrowed in concern. A look I'm beginning to know well. I wonder why he thinks something is wrong; I thought I'd sighed softly, but obviously I'd failed. "Is this okay with you?"
Sleeping in his bed? "Oh, it's fine," I say. "More than fine. It's great. You know, I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner."
Oh my god, shut me up. I'm doing that thing again. You know, when I get nervous and say basically anything to Cooper, including really moronic things like "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." My god, who says that?
He smiles and I smile back at him. I try to hold his gaze with mine, but I can't do it. I can't hold it. Try as I might, I can't stop my gaze from dropping to that perfect chest, which is sort of obscured by my blanket. Note to self: buy a skimpier blanket. Bulky ones may keep me warmer, but skimpier ones reveal more chest!
And at this very moment, that's important.
He walks past me with the blanket and I look down at myself, to see if I'm scantily clad like him or wearing anything that might drive him crazy with desire and am horrified to see that earlier tonight, I opted for my pink Superman pajamas. Of all things!
That's just great. Well, I guess I don't have to worry about him having trouble just sleeping. When I look over at him, I see that he's put a shirt on.
Fantastic. I've made him uncomfortable because I'm so socially inept and totally obviously ogled him a minute ago. "More than fine". "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner."
Now he's uncomfortable with me. And why not? I'd so totally not want to go anywhere near me if I were him. Or anyone for that matter.
"Is this okay with you?" I ask him.
He looks at me, a confused expression on his face, and then smiles. "Yeah," he says, shrugging, seeming genuinely baffled that I'd even ask.
And that's reassuring, anyway.
I climb into the bed on the side where he put my pillow and blanket – which, incidentally, is the side I sleep on – and crawl under the blanket quickly. I rest my head on the pillow, and a feeling washes over me. I feel really calm. I'm in Cooper's bed. I mean, I should feel nervous. Uncomfortable. Weird.
But I don't feel any of those things. I just feel calm and safe.
I glance up, seeing Cooper standing by the bed, looking down at me, a funny, almost thoughtful look on his face.
"What?" I ask.
He blinks, as if breaking himself from a trance. "Nothing," he says quickly. He smiles reassuringly, climbs into the bed and then turns the light off. I feel him move around a little and settle in, as my eyes adjust to the dark. His room seems darker than mine.
"Thanks. For this, I mean. For letting me crash here," I say.
"Sure," he says, quietly.
I turn on my side and sigh contentedly and try really hard not to think about Cooper shirtless. And that's hard – even though it's dark now and the last time I looked at him, he had a shirt on – because the image of him shirtless has sort of burned itself into my memory.
"Is this weird for you?" I ask him suddenly, the question just sort of popping into my head.
I hear him chuckle softly. "Not really," he eventually says. I hear him rustle around a little to get comfortable. "You?"
"No," I say honestly, marveling at how strange it is that it's not weird. "It's kind of like when we used to have those slumber parties. Remember those?"
"I wouldn't exactly call crashing at my parents' house while my brother and his girlfriend made out on the couch a slumber party," he says.
"We wouldn't make out when I'd sleep over," I say, defensively.
"Heather, my brother would be all over you when you'd stay over."
"But he was usually a little tipsy when he'd act like that," I say, laughing. "That's why I'd stay. No one to drive me home. It didn't happen that often, anyway."
"True."
"And I would sleep in his room, and he would stay out on the couch," I add.
"Also true," he says. He laughs.
"What's so funny?"
"You," he says. "You seem to… worry… about what I think about you, how I've always perceived you."
"I do," I admit quietly. "Worry, I mean. Your opinion is probably the most important one to me. I wouldn't want you to think—"
"I don't," he says, cutting me off. "I've never thought anything bad about you. You guys were kids. Teens. Teens make out. It's okay. And," he adds, his voice dropping a little, "I know you used to insist on sleeping separately at my parents' house. I remember." He sighs. "Heather, you were a good kid."
I smile in the darkness. He's saying everything so playfully and light, but I can hear the sincerity in his words.
"I remember thinking that, back then. On those nights, when we'd all hang out."
"Thinking what?" I ask.
"That you were a good kid. A nice girl."
Oh great, I'm back to being a nice girl. I don't want to finish last!
"You thought that about me back then?" I ask, shocked.
"Yeah," he admits nonchalantly. "I thought it was all a shame. You were a really nice, funny girl. But I just figured the fame, the money, the glamour, the business would all ruin you and change you like it changed everyone else in my life that got sucked into that world."
My mind strays to my mother, and I think about how all those things had managed to change her. She wasn't even in the limelight or anything. But greed and wealth… it all took over. One day, my caring, doting, complimentary mother was gone. The business had taken my place in her life as the most important thing.
I stare in Cooper's direction, thinking about how in some ways, we're really not all that different.
"It didn't, though. You never changed. Not one bit. Everyone else did. Your mother," he says, and I start, wondering if I'd said my thoughts out loud before, "your boyfriend…. Hell, my whole family."
"Except you," I add.
"Except me, yes," he says, sounding once again like he's smiling. "That just makes this whole thing so much worse," he says, sounding frustrated.
"What do you mean?"
"You never changed and bought into the fame and glitz and all of that. But you have to pay this high price for it anyway. Someone out there is scaring the hell out of you, and you didn't do a thing – ever – to deserve it."
I smile again at Cooper, as – once again – his words touch me. "Thanks, Coop."
"I mean it," he says quietly, after a beat.
I yawn loudly – the way I do when I'm by myself, and catch myself mid-yawn.
He laughs at that. "Tired?"
"Yeah," I admit. "I actually feel," I begin, yawning again, "like I could fall asleep."
"Good," he says. I can almost hear him smiling. "You should sleep."
"Mmm," I purr, as exhaustion overwhelms me and my body begins to relax. Thoughts of Cooper kissing me earlier in the day, and smiling at me shirtless just moments ago swirl in my head and I fall, finally, asleep.
The next morning, I wake up to a noise. I can hear a voice – a familiar voice – somewhere nearby. In another room. I open one eye and realize immediately that I'm not in my room.
Then I remember – happily – that I'm in Cooper's room. That we slept together. Though by that, I actually mean that we slept together. Cooper of course kept his word and was a perfect gentleman. I don't remember any foul play. Just lots of… sleeping.
I see he's no longer in the room. The voice I hear outside isn't his, though. Groggy as I am, I feel like I can safely say the voice belongs to Jordan.
As in my ex-boyfriend and Cooper's brother, Jordan.
I get out of bed and slink to the door, and try to listen to what he's saying.
"Just tell me what's going on, Cooper," he says. He sounds aggravated.
"Not your business," Cooper says. He sounds calm. Casual. Cool. Totally Cooper.
"It is my business. You're my brother. Heather's my…" he trails off, and I find myself leaning forward. I mean, what could Jordan possibly think we are? We are exes. It's simple. But he doesn't seem to have a word for it. What we are, I mean.
I hear Cooper laugh. "She's your what?" he asks, like he's amused, and immensely interested in the answer.
"We have history, Cooper. It's complicated. It's always been complicated."
Cooper laughs again. "Okay."
"What?" Jordan asks, in a frustrated tone, sounding exactly like he used to when he'd get mad at his brother years ago. In that time in which Cooper refers to us as "kids".
"Heather's your ex. And history, in case you don't remember, means that what you guys have is in the past. And you're married now, so I don't see why you're—"
"—because this isn't right! This isn't… I can't believe you guys are doing this," he says.
Cooper says nothing after that. Jordan says nothing. And I… well, I'm curious.
I stalk out of Cooper's room. "What's going on?" I ask
Jordan stares at me, his mouth falling open in shock. Pure, unadulterated shock. I look down at myself to see if I'm undressed or something, but see that my Superman pajamas are in tact.
I look at Cooper and see him smiling, but looking like he's trying not to, and definitely trying not to laugh.
"What?" I ask, looking from one brother to the other.
"You're sleeping together?" Jordan asks, his voice dropping to a whisper, dripping in that shock that's still written all over his face.
I open my mouth to say something, but can't get anything out. I look at Cooper, my eyebrows shooting up.
We didn't work out our story. You know, what we say to people that ask us about our new "relationship". Do we pretend with everyone? Even family?
Cooper smiles at me – a sort of secret smile, the kind that makes me feel calm – and holds a newspaper out to me.
"What's this?" I ask, grabbing the paper. But no one has to say anything because realization dawns as I stare at the front page of the entertainment section of the paper.
There's a picture of Cooper and me kissing on the streets of New York along with the headline:
FORMER TEEN POPSTAR STEAMS UP THE STREETS OF NEW YORK
"Oh my god," I say. I wasn't planning on this. We were supposed to draw the stalker out! Not journalists and photographers and newspapers and my ex-fiancee and basically everyone but the stalker!
"Care to explain this, Heather?" Jordan asks me.
I look up at him, confused, wondering why he's here, why he even cares about who I'm dating or what I'm up to. Why is he more or less demanding an explanation? I open my mouth to say something of the sort, but Cooper beats me to it.
"I told you, this doesn't concern you. It's none of your business."
"None of my business?" Jordan asks, incredulously, looking… well, really mad. "Heather and I dated for ten years, Cooper. Ten years. And you're supposed to be my brother."
"Once again, you're married now. Life's moved forward. The ten years you guys were together are behind us all now. So this," Cooper says, gesturing quickly to himself and me, "really isn't your business."
Jordan looks at me and shakes his head. He looks just so mad! I can't figure it out. "I told you, Heather, when you moved in with him that it was a bad idea. I told you!"
"I still think it was a pretty good idea, seeing as I had nowhere to live."
"Yes, you did," he reminds me.
"Did you think I had no pride or something?" I ask, getting pretty peeved myself now. "That I'd walk in on you and Tania doing… what you were doing," I say, uncomfortably, "and just go home and wait for you with a hot dinner and a smile?"
"You could've forgiven me and then worked with me to fix it. To fix us," he says.
"I didn't want to do either of those things," I say quickly. "We were over long before I walked into that room. We just hadn't ended it."
Jordan stares at me after that, not sure what to say. "All the same," he continues through gritted teeth, after a long moment, "moving in here with him was a bad idea."
"Why? He's always looked out for me. He's been nothing but a fantastic friend to me. So why would my living with him be a bad idea? In case you don't remember, my mom took off with everything I have. You cheated on me," I say. I sneak a peak at Cooper and see him staring at his brother, clenching his jaw. "I had nowhere to go, and for a second I thought I had no one. Cooper… he called me immediately. And without a second thought, he opened his house to me. He's unwavering as a friend. And I'd be…" I look at Cooper again. "I'd be lost without him."
Cooper smiles softly, appreciatively, at me.
"Fine," Jordan says. Though he doesn't look it. Fine, I mean. "But Heather, don't be naïve about him." He's talking about Cooper like he's not even in the room! And like he's some kind of bad person. It's all starting to annoy me.
"Whatever, Jordan."
"You know his type as well as I do. It's not you, babe."
My cheeks flush. I know this all too well. And sure, Cooper gave me that whole spiel yesterday about how no one knows what his type really is, but thinks they know. But I still know that it's not me.
"Don't call me that," I stammer to Jordan, not meeting anyone's gaze.
"You've definitely overstayed your welcome," Cooper says to Jordan. "Let's go." He gets up and walks towards the door.
Jordan follows, but stops at the door and turns to face us. "I know I'm married now, and I am happy. You both seem to think this means, though, that I shouldn't think this whole thing here is weird, or is sending red flags up for me. It doesn't. The idea of my ex with my brother freaks me out. So sue me. And Cooper, you may have been the one to save her when I failed, but if I find out you're just using her to make one of your girls – your real girls – jealous or something, so help me—"
"—do you even know me at all?" Cooper interrupts. He sounds annoyed now.
"Yeah, I do. I know that whatever's going on isn't real."
"You don't know anything," Cooper says.
"I know that she doesn't deserve to be used."
"She doesn't deserve a lot of things," Cooper says, and I see his jaw-clenching is now out of control. "And didn't deserve a lot of things."
He looks pointedly at his brother at that last comment.
Jordan rolls his eyes, looks disgustedly at both of us, and walks out the door. Cooper shuts the door behind him and puts a hand through his hair. He looks at me.
"Sorry about that," he says. "I know it's not the best way to wake up."
"No," I agree. "But, um, it's okay. Sorry you had to fight with your brother."
"Why are you sorry?" he asks, leading me into the kitchen.
"Everything seemed okay enough before I came out and joined the conversation."
Cooper laughs as he grabs a bowl and hands it to me. "Seeing you walk out of my bedroom did kind of push him over the edge, I have to say."
"Yeah," I agree, trying to laugh with him. But I can't. I can't ignore what Jordan said, about how whatever's going on with Cooper and me isn't real. He's right. I mean, was I not lost in thoughts of us kissing last night as I fell asleep? I was. I so was. And for a moment, I think I had hope. Actual hope! But it's fake. This whole thing. It's all fake. It's a pretense. Just like Jordan said.
"Heather." He waits until I look at him. "Don't listen to him." He grabs cereal, milk and a spoon and puts it on the table for me. "He's being territorial, and he has no right."
"He's not totally off-base. He sees us kissing in a picture and automatically he assumes something's up, that it's not real. Because he knows your type! I told you yesterday that this would happen. That people wouldn't believe that you'd date me."
He stares at me for a long moment. "And I told you they would," he says, after a beat. "Here's the thing about Jordan, Heather," he says, putting both hands through his hair, as he grabs a chair next to me and I dig into my cereal. "He doesn't know me. He really doesn't. He doesn't know my favorite foods or television shows or movies or things to do when I'm bored. He doesn't know that when I go to the movies, I always get Sour Patch Kids and a large popcorn. He doesn't know that I put a hand through my hair when I'm nervous or flex my jaw when I'm pissed and trying to keep my cool. I bet if you ask him, he doesn't even know what color my eyes are."
He looks seriously at me. He knows I know. All of it. Everything. He must know I study him, study every detail about him. He must think I'm a stalker!
"When he says things about me, I just want you to remember the most important thing. He's known me about twice as long as you have and doesn't know me even half as much as you do. And this isn't just because we live together. You probably knew more about me the third time you met me than he ever did."
I chew on my Rice Krispies and stare at him as he talks.
"He's the last person in the world you should listen to when the topic is me."
"Who should I listen to?" I ask.
"You know me, Heather."
I stare at him, wondering what he means by this. What exactly does he think I know? I mean, sure I know everything I can possibly know through observation, and I know his character and personality. But… most of the time, I'm dying to know things about him. Dying to know what he's thinking when he makes those completely, frustratingly unreadable expressions. Dying to know what he does, you know, when he goes to work. See, there are all these things I have no clue about.
But I nod, all the same, and continue eating my Rice Krispies.
"But there is one thing—" he starts, but there's a loud bang upstairs, and he stops. He looks at me, and I can see fear in his eyes. I'm nearly choking on my cereal!
"What was that?" I ask. "It sounded like it came from my room." I can hear the fear in my own voice. Is there someone in our house? In my room?
"Stay here," Cooper says.
He runs into his room, comes out with a bat, and heads upstairs.
"Yeah, right," I say, and get up, following him. I mean, honestly. Talk about knowing someone! Doesn't he know that I never do what he says?
I get to the top of the stairs, and nearly bump into him as he runs from my room.
"I told you to stay down there," he says, sounding annoyed.
"Since when do I listen?" I ask.
"Don't move!" he yells, running past me and down the stairs.
I stand there, and wrinkle my nose. Is that smoke I smell? Oh my god. I take a step toward my room and gasp. I see a flame!
I feel someone move me out of the way – Cooper, of course. He runs into my room, fearlessly, and I hear a noise.
Fire extinguisher.
I stand frozen to the spot in the upstairs hallway, until an eternity later, he exits my room, takes my hand, and leads me back downstairs.