Evanescent

by Addison Moore

  Neither Dr. Flanders nor Coop seems that impressed with my hygienic heist.

  I study Dr. Flanders as he hems and haws over the articles before placing them in a small, white bin.

  “I’ll run a complete panel and have the results to you as soon as possible. Have you noticed anything odd about her in general?”

  “She’s the spitting image of Hattie Tobias,” I say. “Hattie’s ghost.” I’m quick to correct.

  Dr. Flanders stares pensively past the two of us before nodding. “We’ll know soon enough.” He presses out the impression of a dull laugh. “What’s going on here?” He directs the question to Coop.

  “It was homecoming tonight.” Coop leans back and takes a deep breath. He’s still in his suit jacket. His teal tie, that matched Grayson’s monstrosity of a dress, hangs from his neck like a noose. “I thought we’d chill out, maybe watch a movie.”

  Dr. Flanders doesn’t appear amused. His lips twist while needling Coop with an aggressive stare. “Marky’s apprised me of the ongoing situation. Turns out, Laken’s been spending quite a bit of time here—mostly early morning hours from what I understand.” He amps up the sarcasm and suddenly I’m eyeing the exit.

  Shit.

  “Cooper sleeps on the floor,” I say it so fast it sounds like a lie. I wonder if that’s how I’ll say it to Wes when he finds out.

  Guilt crushes me like a pile of stones lying over my chest.

  I bet Dr. Flanders thinks all kinds of inappropriate things are going on upstairs.

  An image of Coop’s naked body writhing over mine flies through my mind—his teeth grazing over my shoulder, the curve of his bare back, his shin flexing as he pushes into me—it plays on a loop and I can’t shut it off.

  “Laken?” Dr. Flanders knocks on his desk. “I asked if you’re using protection.”

  “Protection?” An image of a shotgun bounces through my mind until I realize that’s not the kind of self-defense he’s referring to.

  Crap. We just went there.

  He frowns into Coop before dipping into his medical bag and producing a pair of small foil packets.

  Condoms! Ack! Shit, shit, shit!

  Everything in me wants to jump out of the chair, my skin—the window. Is this Dr. Flanders’ way of giving us his carnal blessing? By offering us parting gifts for the evening?

  Just sitting next to Coop makes me feel dirty now.

  “They’re not mine.” It comes out dry as he looks to Coop. “They’re from the convention. They’re stunt condoms. They light up, heat up, vibrate, what have you.” He gives an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know what they do and please do not give a report in the morning,” he says, rising from his seat. “Goodnight.” Dr. Flanders moves swiftly out of the room. His footsteps resonate in soft thumps down the hall, and I hold my breath until all traces of him are no longer audible.

  “Stunt condoms?” I say, stymied by his father’s strange spontaneous PSA equip with circus-worthy prophylactics.

  Coop swipes them off the desk in one easy move and gives a wicked grin.

  “I guess it’s time to get to bed.”

  Cooper Flanders looks as if he were hewn from limestone, that his face was blessed by God and his heart was made of gold so pure it flowed throughout his body in its molten, liquid form. It’s no wonder Coop glows, inside and out. He’s remarkable and kind, and deep down I know he can never be mine.

  “Why so sad?” he says, pausing from unbuttoning his dress shirt. He barricaded the door to his room as if locking it could never be enough, and I blushed at the implications, although I’m still convinced they’re platonic.

  I shrug, unwilling to share how unfair everything feels at the moment. How a little part of me wished I were Grayson Evans earlier this evening.

  “You never saved that dance for me.” It comes out so ridiculous, I bury my head in his pillow. I watched him with Grayson every chance Wes happened to look away. And, sadly for Wes, I wished I were with Coop more than a few times tonight.

  The soft hum of music fills the room. He switches off the lights, and my insides tighten at the thought of dancing in the dark with Coop of all people.

  “Coop! You so don’t have to do this.” My heart melts as he lures me over with the tug of my hand. “We’ll wake Marky.”

  “She’s dead until seven.”

  My fingers, clasp over his, my hand lands soft over his chest and to my surprise it’s bare.

  “You’re not wearing a shirt.” I try to hold back the budding smile from forming on my lips. I take him in like this, lost in the shadows, his skin expanding, smooth and hard as granite. “I think you’re underdressed.”

  “Oh really?” He smolders into me. “I think you’re overdressed.”

  I tip my head back and laugh.

  The curtains are stretched wide, allowing the streetlight to spray the room with a touch of night magic. Coop bites down on his lip, and a fire spreads through my body, warm and alive, all for Cooper. I glance down at the curves of his chiseled abs, the flat wall of his chest a mile wide. He presses his hips to mine and my insides explode with heat.

  Here we go.

  My body quivers as I increase my grip over his fingers. His touch ignites an inferno ripping through every intimate part of me. I don’t remember the last time Wes made me feel this way, and everything in me wants to cry. I shouldn’t feel this way about anybody else—especially not Coop.

  The curve of a devilish smile plays on his lips as he pulls me in. The light scent of his woodsy cologne encircles us, makes me dizzy in a good way. I lay my face against his chest, and my cheek sears over his heated flesh.

  Coop presses his hand into the small of my back, and my body takes on his contours. I can feel his strong arms protecting me like wings of steel. His erection protrudes against my thigh, but I choose to ignore it for now.

  He sighs into me, blowing a warm breath over my hair before bowing down and planting a kiss just behind my ear.

  “Laken.” It heaves from him with the undertones of disappointment—a sadness that we share while rocking steady to the music.

  It’s torture like this with Coop.

  He pulls back and winces into me. His eyes lock over mine as a blaze ignites in our hearts. It lights the entire room up in flames, and, dear God, do I ever want to burn.

  Cooper leans in and touches his cheek to mine. He draws his forehead over the top of my head—his mouth hedges just shy of my lips as if asking permission. His chest pumps wild against my own as if demanding an explanation as to why I’m denying a god like Cooper Flanders the right to love me like he wants to. A question I’m beginning to ask myself on a loop.

  Coop heaves a heated breath right over my mouth, and I turn my face ever so slightly to deflect something that I want just as bad as he does. His hands move manic over my body, his hips grind into mine with bone-crushing intensity. I can feel every nuance—I can feel him.

  He rocks us steady over to the bed, and I fall back all too willingly.

  Cooper lands on top of me, our fingers still interlaced. He locks my legs with his knees as he nuzzles into my neck.

  Coop lets out a defeated sigh. His warm breath washes over me with all of the love and affection he can afford.

  This is it. A real do or die moment. Things could swing either way. I take in a ragged breath and close my eyes. If he kisses me I won’t stop him. If he pushes the limits I won’t resist. I’ve worn myself out trying to hold back my affection for Coop. Trying to pull Wes in from the riptide, the Counts created, has only blown us an ocean apart and ground me down to nothing in the process.

  His body relaxes over mine. Coop buries his face in my neck and takes in my scent one more time.

  He pulls back and gives the hint of a smile before descending toward my lips. Coop cautiously inches his way to my mouth, closer, then nothing but a breath away. My heart detonates with a horrific charge, beating Wesley’s name with every thump as if it were urging me to stop and consider—to bury the last rela
tionship before starting another.

  I can feel the warmth of his mouth just over mine, as I part my lips, ready—so ready.

  A loud knock booms from the other side of the door.

  “Good night you two!” Dr. Flanders calls out.

  “Good night!” Coop and I shout in unison, a little overeager. Cooper rolls off and lets out a quiet sigh.

  “That scared me,” I whisper as the footsteps dissipate back downstairs.

  Coop takes up my hand again, his face still wearing that eternal look of sorrow—that stolen smile.

  “What scared you? My dad or me?”

  “Both of you.” I sink into the mattress. “I’m so sorry, Coop. Never in my wildest dreams would I want to lead you on.”

  “You want Wes, I get it.” His gaze drops down to the narrow space between us. The stale light of the moon seeps in over the bed and lights a line over our bodies as if sealing us together.

  “I don’t know what I want. In my heart I don’t think I can reach him again. He’s gone, Coop, but a part of me can’t accept that.” I swallow hard. “He says he has something special planned for me on Halloween. I thought maybe it was,” I pause motioning with my fingers, “you know.” I shake my head. “He said it isn’t, but it got me thinking. How far am I willing to go? Am I going to sleep with him?” It’s a rhetorical question but one I’d really like Coop’s thoughts on.

  “I vote for no,” he deadpans.

  “Coop.” I let out a little laugh and swat him over the shoulder. “I mean—I could. If he thinks we’re close then maybe he’d take me to the tunnels. I need my sister, Coop. Our families are suffering.” I can’t bring myself to extrapolate any further on the subject. It’s like I’m gearing up for a life of sexual espionage. Trading secrets for sex sounds dirty even if the recipient is Wes.

  Coop pinches his lower lip as if he’s physically trying to restrain himself from saying anything.

  “Sorry about that.” I’m pretty sure sexually strategizing with Cooper Flanders is a rotten idea. If anything, Cooper is a part of the problem, not the solution. Really, I wouldn’t be having this conversation if it weren’t for him. In fact, I would have long since given myself to Wes—to hell with his self-imposed rule on waiting to get my memory back.

  “Laken,” he whispers, carefully stroking the hair away from my face. “I would never in my wildest dreams ask you to touch another person to further this endeavor. I swear to you, if you want to sit back and watch from the sidelines, I’ll find a way into those tunnels. I can do this on my own.”

  “Wes is the door.”

  “So are the Tobias sisters.” He’s quick with the reply. “Please Laken…” Coop shakes his head. His eyes plead with me more than words could ever do. “Don’t give something away that’s so sacred. Don’t erode the landscape of your heart like this. One day you’re going to really want to be with someone,” he pauses, and I reflect on the fact he just replaced Wesley’s name with the word someone, presumably him. “And when you are”—he reaches up and rakes his fingers through my hair—“it should be a thing of beauty—not a lure or a trap. You deserve something pure. You deserve perfect love.”

  My heart rattles inside me as if it were trying to escape. It would be beautiful with Coop, pure—perfect love.

  “The Tobias sisters,” I whisper their name in lieu of admitting I won’t sleep with Wes.

  “I did some research,” he starts in gun shy. “Their father’s name was Emmanuel, the brother is Richard.”

  “What about the little sister?” I remember Hattie mentioned her because she was Lacey’s age.

  “Kara.” He digs a smile in his cheek. “I filled Flynn in on everything I knew. Told him not to tell his new gal pal in the event she tries to mislead us.”

  I give a silent nod. Coop has everything under control. At least the things he can.

  “Sounds like you’re getting along better with Flynn. What was that about anyway?” I ask it sweetly, almost too quiet for him to hear. I like it like this with Coop, our midnight murmurs with secrets spilling like oil.

  “A girl.” He presses out a wry smile.

  I scoot into him. “This is getting good.” I try to lighten the mood. I’ll talk about anything to get my mind off the Counts and what they’ve done, and are still doing, to our families. “Dish.” I give a crooked grin.

  “You sure you want to hear this?” His brows dip as if he’s sure I don’t.

  “Yes. I’m totally in the mood for an erotic bedtime story. Go right ahead. Who was she?” I bet its some girl they fought over in fourth grade with pigtails and glasses. I can totally imagine Flynn, hot on the prowl even then, and, of course, girls of all ages would be attracted to Coop. That’s just the law of physics.

  “Grayson.” He gives a long tired blink.

  My stomach flinches as if I had just been sucker punched.

  That’s right, I think Flynn mentioned it a while back and I was quick to put it out of my mind. For whatever reason I didn’t think it was real coming from Flynn, but from Cooper’s mouth it’s scripture.

  My heart drops. I let out my defeat in a drawn out sigh. Coop was right. I didn’t want to know.

  “You fought over Grayson?” And I needed to repeat this, why?

  “I’m not sure you could call it a fight. He was fooling around with her at the same time I was. I just so happened to be the only one out of the loop.”

  “Sounds like you’ve misplaced your anger.” Funny because I can feel mine beginning to rise. “She’s the one who cheated. Flynn was just being Flynn.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re right about Flynn, but Grayson didn’t cheat. We weren’t officially together. I just didn’t like the feeling I was getting played. It left a bad taste in my mouth. And I don’t have it in me to be ticked off at a girl, so I shut down on Flynn. The end.”

  “Oh.” I draw my thumb to my lower lip and consider this a good long while. Coop and Grayson. My mind starts in on an entire series of inappropriate thoughts involving Coop and Grayson’s boobs—their limbs knotted up in passion, Coop lost in the folds of her pillowy flesh. The entire idea makes me want to hurl.

  “I’m sorry, Laken.” He says it sober as if he had somehow truly hurt me with this—and he had.

  “No, don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I glance down at the slim space between us. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry we ever went down this thorny trail. Very sorry. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m still with Wes.” I blink back tears. “And you should be with whoever you want. If that person is Grayson, then that’s who you should be with.” God, I’m going to die the next time I see them together knowing he touched her in such an intimate way. My entire body revolts at the concept.

  “I am with the exact person I want.” He touches his thumb to my cheek. “I want you, Laken. I don’t want to leave any shadow of a doubt. I swear to you when I saw you that first day in the forest, I felt like you were family—like in some strange way we’d see each other again because it was inevitable. From the moment I laid eyes on you, you’ve never left my heart, my head, even when I sleep you’re there waiting for me. All chaste dreams of course.” He raises his hand like a Boy Scout and holds back a smile. “Mostly.” He gives a quick wink. “Laken, I know you’re not through with Wes, that the old Wesley still means everything to you. But when you dig down deep and don’t find him there anymore, I want you to know I’ll be waiting for you. Maybe we can try things out. See if it works.” He interlaces our fingers. “Because if I’m right, this”—he touches my hand to his lips—“this is meant to be.”

  Deep down inside I know he’s right. There is definitely some connection here that spans time and place, life and death, and links me right back to Cooper. Destiny meant him to be more than a friend. This is real, and this is right.

  “I think you’re really special, Coop.” An unexpected surge of tears stings my eyes, and I blink them away. “In fact, I know you’re special. Something is happening here. I feel thin
gs for you—amazing things.”

  Wes flashes before me like an unwanted hologram. Not even in the recesses of my mind had I thought I wouldn’t get old Wes back. It weighs me down with a grief so palpable I can hardly stand to breathe.

  Coop scoots in until I’m resting against his chest again. His familiar woodsy scent pulsates over me in waves, and he comforts me with his body warm against mine.

  “Do you think we can we sleep like this tonight?” It comes out childlike, and I feel like a horrible person for even asking. I’m pretty sure Grayson was anything but childlike while lying in bed with Coop. Grayson Evans is everything I’m not.

  “You don’t sound childlike, Laken.” He kisses my finger. “You sound pure—sweet. And, you’re right, that’s everything Grayson’s not.” He presses out a slow spreading grin, and the dimple above his eye ignites. “I don’t want Grayson. I never did. I only want you, Laken, and I’m sorry I came on so strong. I’ll try harder to control myself.”

  “I wanted to kiss you.” I bleed the words out, and my body exhales as if I had been holding up a boulder all night. “I just don’t want to be that girl, Coop. The one who runs around kissing two boys, telling them both the same things. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror, and, by the way, I’m already having a tough time.” I give his hand a squeeze. “If Wes found out about us… if he knew I’ve been spending the night, drawing the blood from your body—enjoying every touch, every glance you’ve ever given me”—I brush my fingers over his heart-stopping features—“everything would come crashing to an end. Our only hope would be the Tobias sisters, and, as it stands, the clock is ticking on their offer.” I bow my head in defeat. Time is cascading away like sand through our fingers, and of all the things to worry about it’s my relationship with Cooper that crowds the forefront of my mind. Where will we end up when all is said and done? My heart aches to know this.

  The sound of a car skidding off the property startles us. Coop hops over me and peers out the window. His chest expands as the car melts back into the night.

  “What was that?”

  “Not what—who.” Coop leans against his desk with a faraway look in his eye. “We’d better find the Tobias family, Laken. It looks like they might be our only hope.”