by Kasie West
Justin’s home?
Funny.
I would not be giving Cooper a massage. That would send me into major relapse. It was hard enough looking at his body. I didn’t need to feel it as well.
Four thirty in the morning. You owe me.
That’s why I brought you doughnuts. I owe you nothing.
He sent me back the pile of poop emoji and I laughed.
I pocketed my phone and made my way back to my art room. I’d set up a canvas yesterday before work, and it still sat on its easel, only a coat of white primer to show for my time. I had been avoiding it. My initial thought was to paint the sunrise. I had pulled out all my warm colors—reds and oranges and yellows—and they still sat on the dresser waiting for me. But as I looked at them, it seemed like such a literal interpretation. I remembered how cold that morning had been. How it smelled like pine and made my nose numb. How the birds hadn’t come alive until the sun was sitting on the mountain. I remembered the feeling of life being awakened a little bit at a time. Awakened.
I took out more tubes of paint—gray and black and silver. At the bottom of the canvas, I started with cool colors. I drew rusty dried leaves and black bare trees and silver sleeping birds. As I moved up the canvas I added more colors and more life until I reached the tops, where the birds burst out from the green mountain, their flight mimicking the rays of the sun, the sky behind them bright and yellow.
“Wow.”
“I thought I taught you not to sneak up on me when I’m painting. That could’ve sent my brush across the canvas.” I’d managed not to jump. Barely. Cooper was normally a quiet observer until he saw me back away from the canvas.
“Sorry. I should know that, seeing as how I’m an expert painter now.”
“True. I should just let you finish this for me,” I teased.
“No way. That’s amazing. I love it.”
“You love everything I paint.”
“It’s true. But this one is . . . different. Are those birds dead?” He was referring to the ones on the bottom. “That’s a little dark for you.”
“They’re not dead. They’re sleeping. Do they look dead?”
“They look cool. This is supposed to be the sunrise, isn’t it?”
“That was my inspiration.”
I set my palette on the hutch to my right, the one whose drawers were full of art supplies, and turned to Cooper. “I thought you were going straight to bed for a w—” I stopped. “Whoa. You have paint all over you.”
“I know! That’s why I had to come by here first. It was important for me to show you that we’re twins now.”
I smiled and stepped forward. “I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get this much paint on me. Did you bathe in it?” I pinched a section of his shirt between my fingers and pulled it away from his body. “Coral? You painted the house coral?”
“It’s not coral. I think the official name is soft peach.”
I bit my lip and dropped his shirt. I now had some soft peach paint on my thumb and pointer finger. I wiped it on his cheek and he scrunched his nose.
“The house actually didn’t turn out half bad.”
“Huh. Well, I’m surprised my mom let you in looking like that.”
“Your mom loves me.”
This was true.
“Besides, she’s used to letting people covered in paint walk around this house.” His finger brushed along my collarbone, tracing a line of paint I had there. Tingles shot down my arms and I took a step back.
“How do you get paint on your neck anyway?” he asked.
“The same way you did.”
“Have I left any clothes over here lately?”
“I think your board shorts are still here.”
He turned and headed for my room. I shook out my still-tingling arms and followed after him.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I’m going to shower here and then you’re going to work a knot out of my neck.”
“No, I’m not.”
He went to the corner of my room, where his clothes were still draped over my chair. He picked up the shorts, snapped my leg with them, then headed for the door.
“What about the shirt?” I asked.
He waved his hand through the air. “It’s dirty.”
“But you need a shirt.” I went to my closet and flipped through my stacks until I found the biggest one I owned, then tossed it to him.
He held it up. “You want me to wear a hot-pink breast cancer run shirt?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Oh, and before you shower. I got something.” I snatched the crickets off the end of my bed and held them up for Cooper to see while I pointed at the list. “Try something new.”
“What is it?”
“Dried crickets.”
“Crickets? Are you being serious?”
I tore open the bag and poured them into my hand. There were six of them. Cooper stepped closer, took one off my extended palm, and popped it into his mouth.
“Mmm. Salty.” Then he walked to the door.
I let out a huff of air. I had hoped he’d put up more of a fight than that. I’d hoped that maybe I’d found something he was afraid of. When he got to the door, he turned. “Are you going to try one?”
Without thinking too hard, I stuck one in my mouth and chewed it up quickly. He was right—it was salty and crunchy and tasted a bit like dry grass. “That wasn’t too bad.”
“Not at all. But that doesn’t count for me.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve eaten dried crickets before.”
I threw the rest of them at him, but they landed on my floor five feet away. “You brat. Well, it counted for me.”
“Okay, but we have to try something new together too. Something we both haven’t done. Something epic. Like that sunrise.”
I smiled, hearing he thought our outing was epic. “Okay.”
He backed out of my room, and I watched him disappear behind the bathroom door across the hall.
FIFTEEN
“You really shouldn’t shower here!” I called out to him. Like I needed the person I was trying not to be in love with waltzing around my bathroom . . . showering.
I thought he hadn’t heard me, but the door popped back open and he leaned out. “What?”
Gah. I was being ridiculous. He’d showered here before. “Nothing. Go shower.”
I picked up the dried crickets from the carpet and deposited them in my trash. Then I added another checkmark to my list. I was still on track. Three paintings almost done and nearly half my list. I was convinced I could make the deadline now, but not completely convinced Mr. Wallace would see any growth. Different didn’t necessarily mean better.
When I walked by the bathroom, Cooper was humming some tune I didn’t recognize. I joined my grandpa and mom in the living room.
“Where’s Cooper? Trailing more coral paint through the house?” Grandpa asked.
“Coral, right? I’m glad we agree on the color.” I gestured down the hall with my head and sat down. “He’s washing the coral paint down the drain.”
My mom, who had been sitting on the couch reading her True Crime book, raised her eyebrows. “How’s the list coming?”
“Pretty good. I still have a few to do. But I am halfway in love, according to Grandpa.”
“Oh yes, I heard about Elliot,” she said.
“You two are like gossipy tweens. No secrets can be shared here.”
“I am a vault,” my mom said in faux offense.
“And I am the safe inside the vault,” my grandpa said.
I rolled my eyes.
“We don’t tell anyone else,” Mom said.
I almost said, of course you don’t, you don’t see anyone else. But there was some sarcasm even I resisted.
“Well, except Dad.”
“You told Dad?”
“Of course, honey, he likes to hear these things. He said you haven’t emailed him la
tely.”
I cringed. He’d sent me a response to my last email where he’d listed off several alternative name choices I could pick from and asked what other experiences I’d done off my list that he could tell me he disapproved of. I’d read the email on my phone, meaning to respond once I was in front of my laptop, but I never had. “I know. I forgot. At this point, I’m just waiting for his weekly phone call. That’s easier.”
My mom sighed. “Easier does not promote communication.”
“I’m going to put that on a T-shirt.”
“Seriously, Abby.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll email him.” I headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to get some ice cream. Cricket aftertaste isn’t great.”
By the time I had scooped myself a bowl of mint chip ice cream and gone back to the living room, Cooper was sitting on the couch, hair still dripping and hot-pink shirt too small on him. It stretched tight on his biceps and across his chest. I quickly looked away before my grandpa saw me staring.
“Did you eat a cricket too?” Mom asked him.
“Yes. It was flavored, I think.” He tugged at the neck of the shirt.
“Salt and pepper,” I said.
“Abby is working on number five on the list,” Grandpa said.
“You know the numbers?” I asked.
“No, it was just a stab in the dark. But I mean the falling in love one.”
I had just taken a big bite of ice cream and I swallowed it too quickly, causing a brain freeze. I hopped around until the pain subsided, then pointed to my grandpa first and then my mom. “Cooper, meet the vault and the safe inside the vault.”
“I didn’t say anything,” my mom said.
“Falling in love?” Cooper asked with a teasing smile. “Did you meet someone?”
“Nope. We just saw Elliot at the store. Grandpa is overreaching.”
“Elliot again?” Cooper asked. “That’s twice in two weeks. Maybe it’s fate.” He emphasized the word I liked to use. “You two should come on a double date with me and Ris.”
Grandpa put up his finger. “Elliot said he was going to a Fourth of July party.”
“Perfect!” Cooper said. “We can all hang out together there. I’m going to call him.”
“You don’t have his number.”
“I do. I got it on that napkin, remember?”
“Hey, Grandpa? Remember that deep-tissue massage technique you taught me?”
“Yes.”
“Cooper has a really bad knot in his neck. Can you work it out for him?”
Grandpa pushed the ottoman that sat in front of him out with his foot. “Have a seat, my boy. Let’s nip that knot in the bud.”
“I’m going to bed.” It probably wasn’t even nine o’clock, but I was annoyed at everyone in the room. I finished off my ice cream and put the bowl in the sink. “Let’s all try this again tomorrow.”
Once in my room, I opened my laptop and typed a quick email to my dad.
From the daughter who is bad at emails, to the father who is the master of them,
Sorry! I’ve been busy growing my heart. It takes work. Let’s see, what have I done? I tried out for a play. Not sure what it taught me. Maybe that making a fool of myself is something I excel in. I’m reading two classics simultaneously. They are both equally old and mind stretching. I thought I knew English, but apparently I don’t. I watched a sunrise. How come you and Mom have never forced me to do that before? Does this make you horrible parents? It’s up for debate. I helped at a soup kitchen. The kids there are so little. It was heartbreaking, but also taught me that I have so much to be thankful for. I also heard that Mom told you about Elliot. That is nothing, so no need for twenty questions about him. I don’t think I could even answer twenty questions about him. Maybe three, and they’d all have to be about how he looks. Speaking of Mom, she went on a walk with us the other day.
I paused in my writing, remembering what Grandpa and I had talked about in the grocery store. I wondered if I should put my two cents in about Mom and therapy. I shook my head. He didn’t need the extra worry. Plus, I wasn’t sure I agreed with my grandpa. We were fine. I typed some final thoughts into the email.
She did great. Love you tons. Talk to you soon.
Then I sent it off. I turned out the lights, crawled into bed, and listened to Cooper joke and laugh with my family in the other room. Just the sound of his voice made me happy. I sighed. I had been right, spending all this alone time with Cooper was not helping in the feelings department. Something needed to change.
My phone sat on the nightstand, and I picked it up. I wished I could call Rachel. Why hadn’t I ever told her how I felt about Cooper? Probably the same reason I played off my feelings as a joke to Cooper when it was obvious he didn’t like me back—I didn’t want to change the friendship dynamic. Our tight-knit group lacked drama, and I didn’t want to be the person to single-handedly change that.
I scrolled through my contacts until I stopped on Lacey. I took several deep breaths as I stared at her name. I wasn’t one to try too hard with new people. I had my friends, and I was comfortable with them. But I could ride a quad and eat a cricket without the world ending, so why not this? I pushed the button.
She answered quickly. “Hello.”
“Hi, it’s Abby.”
“Abby! Hi. I’m so glad you called! I didn’t have your info. You were supposed to text me.”
“Yeah, I was going to before the party to get your address.”
“I’m so sorry you didn’t make the play. It was more about your lack of experience than anything.”
“Experience?” I grunted. “That sounds familiar.”
“Are you mad? It’s not too late. I got the feeling you didn’t want a bit part in the ensemble, but I can make a case for you as trombone player number five.”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry about that at all. We just tried out as an experience. I really don’t have time to commit to a full-on production.”
“An experience?”
Oh no, had I offended her? “I’m sorry, we wasted your time by showing up when we weren’t planning on following through.”
She laughed. “No, no worries. What do you mean by an experience though?”
“Long story. I’m trying to gain new perspective to help with my painting.”
“Really?”
“It sounds weird, I know.”
“No, not at all. I’m just surprised because I do something similar.”
“You do?” I sat up in my bed.
“Yes, me and a few of my friends from drama. We force ourselves into new situations to expand our perspectives. It helps with characterization and things, gets us out of our ruts and our normal ways of thinking.”
“Yes. Exactly.” A feeling of validation made me smile. Every time I talked to Lacey, she surprised me. It felt like we clicked.
“So . . .” Lacey was quiet for a moment. “If you didn’t call about the play or the party, was there something else?”
“Oh. No. I was just . . .” Feeling angsty and needed someone who wasn’t Cooper to talk to and all my friends are in foreign countries. I couldn’t say that. It sounded so . . . self-absorbed. It was. “How is the play going?”
“It’s going well. I have to take a couple of days off this week for an audition I have in LA.”
“An audition for what?”
“For a movie.”
“Cool.”
“I have them all the time and nothing comes out of them, so I try not to get my hopes up.” A muffled voice on her end said something I couldn’t understand and Lacey said, “I’ll be right there.”
“You have to go,” I said.
“Yes, it’s my little sister. She is supposed to do the dishes before my parents get home and has somehow convinced me that it’s my duty to help her.”
“She must be very convincing.”
“She is.”
“I’ll see you at the party.”
“I’ll text you my address.”
“Thanks.”
We hung up. I slid back down in my bed until my head hit the pillow. Cooper’s laugh rang out from the other room. We force ourselves into new situations. That’s what Lacey had said worked for her too. It seemed to be working for me with my art. Could it also work for me in the getting-over-Cooper department? I picked up my phone again and found a different contact.
“Psst.” The hall light outside my open bedroom door backlit Cooper, who now stood there. “You really went to sleep?” he asked. “It’s so early.”
“I told you I was.”
He came in and sat on the floor next to my bed. “Your grandpa just killed my neck.”
“I know. That was kind of the point. By the way, I did it. I asked Elliot out.”
Cooper’s teeth glowed white in my dark room. “You did?”
I had. I’d called him and asked if he wanted to go to the party with me, and he’d said yes. I was forcing myself into a new experience, hoping for something to change. I had obviously gone out with guys before. It was just that I hadn’t in the last year. “I did.”
“Awesome. This is going to be so fun.”
I pulled a pillow against my chest and closed my eyes. How come it sounded like the opposite of that to me? “So fun.”
I must not have said it with the proper amount of enthusiasm, because Cooper quietly said, “You should give him a chance, though. He seems like a really nice guy.”
I nodded, my eyes still closed. “Okay, I’ll give him a chance.”
Even behind my closed lids I could feel the whole room light up with Cooper’s smile, and my entire being glowed. “Good,” he said.
“Good,” I repeated, pillow tight against my chest.
He ran a hand through my hair. “Good night.”
When I opened my eyes he was gone, the door closed behind him. My scalp still tingled from where his fingers had been.
“Good night,” I whispered.
SIXTEEN
Do you want to meet at the party or drive over together?
I had been leaning against the handle of a mop in the museum, staring at a painting of an apple cut in half, its insides blue, happy to finally be released from the ticket counter, when the text from Elliot came in. I had kind of assumed that a date meant we were driving over together, but now that he was giving me an option, I couldn’t decide what I wanted.