“He’s the first person to offer help in any situation,” Cooper objects. “And he covers for anyone, no questions asked. Last season, when Arlo got hurt and Ty took his starting position, guess what the first thing Tyler did was? He sat down with Arlo and told him he wasn’t going to compete for the spot—that it was his as soon as he was strong again. Every time Coach complimented Tyler, he attributed it to Arlo. Every. Single. Time. And when Paxton, our quarterback, had to change up his schedule for a couple of weeks because of a class, Tyler fucking moved everything and got everyone on board with changing it up so it wouldn’t negatively impact Paxton.
“He likes women and can be sarcastic as shit, but he’s not an asshole.”
The words to object and expose just how big of an asshole he is and was to me last night are hanging on the tip of my tongue, but I remain silent, unable to tell him because while Tyler Banks has shown me his ugliest sides, there’s also little question to how much he cares for Cooper. He helped him through his breakup with Claire, offered him a place to stay when his roommate ghosted and ended up moving out of state, and as much as I hate admitting it—picking up the slack of being a best friend when I’ve gotten busy with school and work.
“He’s kind of an asshole,” I say.
Cooper shoots out an arm, surprisingly fast, making me jump again before pulling me against him and running his hand over my hair to mess it up as much as he can before I pull free.
“I hate you,” I tell him, trying to pat my hair down.
“You love me.”
I sigh. “Why are you really up?”
“Are things going to be okay with us?”
“Are we talking about Nessie?”
He blanches, and for a second, he reminds me of my friend from middle school when books and good movies stopped being enough to fuel our friendship and we started talking about things that mattered—feelings and emotions about others and situations. How much it bothered me to watch our forty-fourth president stand behind bullet-proof glass when giving his victory speech, though we were supposedly more human and accepting than ever in history. How more prisons are becoming privatized, turning over seven-billion dollars a year. How Cooper’s father is in one of those prisons, sentenced to twenty-five-years for his possession of marijuana with an intent to sell while watching a minor—a.k.a., Coop. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t want you to…”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “Nothing will change between us. But you know Ness. She has a shorter attention span than Tyler, and I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
He sighs. “Trust me. I’ve thought about that a million times.”
“I know,” I admit because as much as I’ve dreaded having this conversation, I’ve always known Cooper watched Nessie—paid attention to the way she moved and what she said in a way that I could tell that it mattered to him.
“And while I agree to help with birthday and holiday shopping, I refuse to ever partake in disagreements or arguments. And your first child has to be named after me.”
Cooper throws his head back, laughing quietly into the darkened space. “Any more rules?”
“Oh, please. You know me. I need time to construct my full list.” I pull in a breath. “This went fast. I thought I would have at least a solid week or two until we had this conversation.”
“Tonight kind of accelerated the situation. She told me she liked me.”
I nod, not surprised. Nessie’s never been known for her patience, and with alcohol and all their dancing, I can see how it likely felt appropriate.
Cooper shoves me. “I kind of thought something was happening between you and Ty. I saw you guys on the dance floor. Hell, we all saw you.”
“No,” I say instantly. “No. No. No. What you saw was alcohol and a good beat.”
“But better than avoiding each other, right?”
I shake my head. Not even a little. “You should go to bed. Tomorrow we’re going on a ghost tour. Miles recommended it and said it’s fun.”
Cooper grins. “You don’t like ghosts or scary stuff.”
“Didn’t,” I correct him. “Remember, I’m trying to loosen up and be all go with the flow and shit.”
He laughs at my impression that wasn’t intended to sound quite so stoner-like and more cool and fun.
“We have to check out the pool tomorrow.”
“Deal. Ghost tour, then pool.” I offer my hand that he accepts, shaking on our deal. “Also, shrimp jambalaya. I needs it,” I joke, adding the ‘s’ to the verb like we have since we were young, since before inside jokes mattered and we cared to remember their roots.
“Done.”
“You should go to bed,” I tell him.
He nods. “I’m going. I just wanted to make sure things were good between us before…”
Before everything in our roles changes.
Before the rules change.
Before it goes from Cooper and Chloe to Cooper and Vanessa.
“I just want you to be happy.” He stands, pulling me up and into him, hugging me. “I love you, Chloe.”
“I know,” I tell him.
I feel his abs constrict as he laughs. “Nice Han Solo.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
His arms fall, and he turns to retreat to his room. “Love you, Coop.”
He looks back, flashing a smile. I watch his door close, and though he’s no farther away than he was before this conversation, it feels like he’s just traveled to another state.
“Chloe,” Nessie sings my name, inches from my face.
“Why are you so mean?” I mumble.
“What time did you go to bed?” she asks.
“Late. Early. What time is it?”
“Almost three.”
I sit up, glancing in the direction of the window where the shades are pulled shut, making it appear like it’s still the middle of the night, though I know it’s not because I didn’t come back in here until the sun was starting to glow on the horizon.
“You missed breakfast and lunch, but I love you and saved you some breakfast. It’s in the fridge.”
“What was it?”
“Sweet potato pecan waffles. They’re amazing. Life-changing.”
I slide my legs out from the weight of the blankets and yawn. “Is there coffee?”
“There’s a Keurig in the kitchen, a regular coffee pot, and a coffee shop in the lobby that will deliver.”
“I might need all the options.”
Nessie laughs. “So does your hair,” she teases.
I raise a hand, feeling the fine hairs that are sticking up, and try in earnest to relax them. She laughs. “It’s the only part of you that’s up.”
“Hilarious,” I tell her.
She bends at the waist, her laughter growing.
I face the mirror and cringe before reaching for some product in an attempt to tame my hair. I get dressed, and apply some light makeup to conceal my short night.
My thoughts wander to the conversation with Cooper, wondering how things will change as I descend the stairs. I come to an abrupt stop when I round the kitchen and nearly run into Tyler.
“Sorry,” I mumble, taking a step back, remembering he’s the actual reason I couldn’t sleep and trying to create more space between us.
“Chloe, what’s the name of the tour you want to go on?” Cooper asks from where he’s leaning against the sink, a can of soda in his hand.
“I don’t know? He mentioned it was in the French District at a mansion that comes back here to the cemetery.”
Cooper looks at Tyler for clarification.
“There are several tours in the French District,” Tyler says.
“Do you have a preference?” Coop asks.
I shake my head.
“This one sounds like it might be the one,” Cooper says. “We can check it out and then come back here and get in the pool.”
I can’t register his words because the word we is stuck in my throat like a gumball.
I need coffee. Stat.
Nessie points at the coffee machine, the blue light reading that it’s on and hot. “You’re my favorite sister,” I tell her, reaching for a nearby cupboard and finding a coffee mug.
“As your only sister, that’s touching,” she says, handing me a small basket of sugars and creamers.
“Let’s do that one,” Cooper says, pointing at something on his phone. “I’ll call them and see if they have availability.”
Tyler shakes his head. “Natasha will have contacts. I’ll call her.” He pulls out his phone, moving toward the living room as he calls her.
“See?” Cooper says.
I take a drink of the coffee, not caring that it’s still too hot. I need caffeine to process the situation. “I thought he had meetings?”
“He did. He just got back.”
I glance in his direction as his phone call ends. He turns around, catching me staring. Rather than be embarrassed, I glower, hoping it might make him change his mind and find something else to do besides hang out with us.
“Okay. We have to get going now,” he says.
“Now?” I ask, still not accepting that he’s coming with us.
He nods.
I take another sip of my coffee before regretfully setting it in the sink, and opening the fridge. I grab one of the waffles stacked on a plate, surrounded by small dishes of whipped butter and syrup that I have no doubt would taste like perfection.
Nessie chuckles. “Let’s go so we can grab you some coffee to go. We’ll meet you guys in the lobby.”
While Tyler and Coop go to grab their shoes and sunglasses, Nessie and I head down in the elevator, and even though the waffle is cold and plain, it’s delicious and still pillowy soft.
“Feeling better?” Cooper asks as I take a long sip of my iced coffee once they meet us in the lobby.
“Give me ten minutes.”
He chuckles, waiting to keep stride with Nessie. It’s sweet and thoughtful and only marginally painful to watch.
My dress is white and ends at my knees, shifting with the warm breeze as we step outside.
A car is parked at the curb, waiting for us. Miles is not.
The ride is mere minutes. We’ve barely gotten ourselves situated before our driver is pulling over for us to get out again at a large mansion with a crooked sign, the paint cracking and rippled from sun exposure.
“Welcome. Welcome,” a woman greets us with a thick Southern accent. A half dozen others are standing outside that we join. “Twins! Now, this should make for a very interesting tour. Did you know twins used to be considered bad luck and only recently have been known as good luck?” I swear she leers at us.
Nessie grips my hand, and we exchange a look as we join the rest. This lady’s nuts, and I’ll kick her in the vajayjay if she tries anything.
“We’re so glad you’re here—and by we, I mean myself and the ghosts who live here—because this building, in addition to many others in New Orleans, is occupied with ghosts, and they love visitors.” The tour guide rubs her hands together. “Has anyone been to New Orleans before?”
A few raise their hands.
Tyler does not.
I know he’s been here, but apparently participation is low on his list, along with being decent.
“I hope you’ve all had some good food and drinks, and are enjoying the music and sights. This afternoon, I’ll be giving you a little bit of history while also introducing you to some of my friends. If I go over anything too quickly or if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me. Also, please make sure you stay with the group. The ghosts are friendly when we’re in large numbers, but that can change quickly if you wander off by yourself.”
Several laugh and make jokes about this possibility, while I cast a look at the mansion, realizing this might be one of my worst ideas because though her warning is cheesy, the hairs on my arms are already standing on end, regardless of the heat and humidity that has most of the crowd fanning themselves.
“As some of you may know, Louisiana was named after King Louis the Fourteenth after France took control over the territory for a second time. And New Orleans is considered the most haunted city in all of America. Why, you might ask? New Orleans has faced numerous grisly tales, ranging from pirates to yellow fever, which lasted for over a hundred years and was responsible for over forty thousand souls, the heartless murders of slaves, fire, and many more tragedies. Some say those who die here can’t rest because there’s no solid ground. Others attribute it to the many who practice mystical arts, from voodoo to vampires and witches. You will quickly realize that New Orleans is home to a diverse population, and many refuse to leave it even after death.
“This part of the tour is my absolute favorite. We’re going to go inside of this mansion that was at one time a gorgeous and highly coveted hotel, but no one has been able to occupy it for the past seventy-five years because the ghosts refuse to allow anyone to live here.” She waves a hand forward. “Let’s go inside.”
We follow the others who are pointing to a group of crows, trying to add their presence as a factor for this place being haunted.
“Was this rated on a creepy scale?” Nessie asks. “Like, I need to know now if I’m going to be able to pee alone for the foreseeable future.”
Cooper chuckles. “It’s all for tourism.”
“Okay,” the tour guide says. “Please be sure to silence your cell phones, and make sure if you’re taking any pictures, you have the flash turned off. We’re going to be calling our ghosts, and they prefer the lights to be off.”
“I’m going to hate myself for this,” I whisper to Nessie, taking a step back so that our arms brush.
“Now don’t worry. We’ll still be able to see. We’re just going to dim the lights, but be careful and watch your step. Also, if you feel a cool breeze followed by a blast of heat, that’s a ghost.”
“And I’m done,” I say as the lights dim, and she proceeds to explain all the tools they’re using to detect said ghosts.
Something falls, and half the group screams. I reach for Nessie, but she’s pretzeled herself around Cooper. I pull in a deep breath through my nose, reminding myself this is likely staged. It’s fake. It’s fake. It’s fake, I tell myself.
The guide starts telling us about the house’s previous occupants, and my attention floats across the antique furniture and all the dolls that are staring at us—creepy, like they’re watching me—when she stops talking. “Oh, do you feel that? We have a change in temperature. The ghosts are coming.”
“Oh, hell no,” I whisper.
A woman screams, and something else falls, and before sense can stop me, I’m clutching Tyler’s arm, burying my face into his bicep.
“We’re going to take you upstairs to the bedrooms. A ghost who we believe was a nurse still lives up there, so if you feel someone stroking your arm, you’ll know it’s her. And there’s also a couple of children who like to play tricks and laugh.”
I still hate Tyler.
I’m still not about to let go of his freaking arm.
As the tour continues, the space between us lessens until I’m plastered to his side, jumping each time someone screams or claims to feel something.
My muscles are tight, and my shoulders ache as we finally leave the house, and I’m not proud of the thoughts that have me wanting to cut in front of everyone so I can get back to the safety of the street. Still, I remain anchored to Tyler’s side.
“Okay, we’re going to continue down this way to an above-ground cemetery,” the guide says.
“We aren’t going to talk about this,” I warn Tyler. “Ever. I’m using you, and that is all this is.” I refuse to look at him as we continue the few blocks, listening to the guide talk about the traps some would place on their houses so men couldn’t get in to steal their daughter’s innocence, and thank goodness Tyler is either amused enough or has grown enough of a conscience not to make any jokes about using me in turn.
“Are we really going into a cemetery?” Nessie asks. “This seems like a terrible idea. Like, I knew that wasn’t real, and I was still scared out of my mind. This is going to be so scary, I might cry.”
“I kind of want to see it, though. What if we go and bail out before they start the actual tour?” Cooper asks.
Before we can answer, the tour guide starts talking again. “Now, in addition to ghosts, we have a large number of vampires in New Orleans, so once again, staying together is the safest way to travel, especially when we’re going into a cemetery.”
“Fuck me,” Nessie says, shaking her head. “Sparkly ones. Please be sparkly ones.”
Cooper chuckles because like always, he’s practical and has already chalked this all up to old tales and has discounted any potential threat. While my major of astrophysics consists of laws, rules, and theories, right now my thoughts have abandoned all reason and sense and are currently theorizing all the ways we’re going to be killed as we cross past the gates of the cemetery.
9
Tyler
I made a vow last night to avoid Chloe Robinson.
That vow died a quick death this morning when I went to work out with Cooper, and he told me about how much he’d appreciated me making an effort with Chloe and how she had given her blessing for him and Vanessa to pursue things.
I’d told him that it wasn’t her choice, and in turn, Cooper tore out a page from his childhood, back from when he was first sent to live with his grandma after his dad’s arrest. He shared how most of the kids avoided him and called him names for his father’s crimes and how it had been Chloe who stood up for him and even went as far as punching a kid in the nose when he called Coop a drug dealer.
The problem is, as much as I admire her for standing up for Cooper, there’s something about her that makes every bad decision seem good. I know that if I turned on the tap, everything would overflow and drown us both because she’s not the kind of girl you can forget—which is why when I’m around her, everything turns into chaos, making all of my emotions feel like lies.
This tour—her breasts pressed against me, perfume staining me, fingers marking me—is not helping a single damn thing.
Exploring the Rules: The Dating Playbook, Book: 4 Page 8