I got it a few months after that night. I remember the night Cooper saw it clear as day.
When I went to Cooper’s apartment after my tattoo appointment he was pissed. He paced back and forth bitching. “Why weren’t you answering your phone? I had no idea where you were.”
Honestly, I didn’t think about any of that until I saw the murderous look on Cooper’s face when I walked in. He kept going on and on so instead of trying to talk over him I thought I would just show him what I had been up to. My jeans were already unbuttoned because I didn’t want them rubbing against my raw skin. I pushed my pants down a little further than what was probably necessary to show him the tattoo, but I wanted his attention. Cooper stopped mid-sentence and watched me closely. I lifted my shirt up to just under my bra and watched as his eyes landed on my fresh ink.
Understanding washed over Cooper as he dropped to his knees in front of me. He kissed just above my tattoo and then kissed all around it. My body was shaking from the butterflies that had taken up inside my stomach. Cooper couldn’t stop kissing me, it was like he was trying to kiss everything and make it all better. Only that would never happen.
Later that night a nightmare rocked my body. I woke up gasping for air, sweat was pouring down my face and my entire body was shaking. Cooper tried to calm me down but nothing was working. He was trying to talk to me, he tried to get me to drink some water, and then to call Hailey or MacKenzie. When none of that worked he tried to lift me from the bed but I flinched away.
Cooper held up his hands and backed up a few steps. “Come into the bathroom with me.” he pleaded.
I knew I needed to get up. I needed to wake up from this nightmare. I just couldn’t pull myself back to reality. I eventually gave in and went into the bathroom with Cooper following behind me. When we were both inside he shut and locked the door. I started to panic, feeling suffocated all over again.
“Strip.” Cooper demanded. His voice had a bit of an edge to it.
I didn’t listen at first; I just stood there and gawked at him, not understanding what it was he was asking me to do.
Cooper stepped around me, being careful not to touch me, and turned the shower on. When he was satisfied with the temperature of the water he turned around to me again. “I’m not telling you again. Strip or I’ll do it for you.”
I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. I just had a nightmare and he wanted me to strip out of my clothes? Knowing he wasn’t going to let me go, I did what he asked. With my body still trembling I was fumbling with the hem of my shirt. I couldn’t get my arms to work; it felt like there were weights tied to my hands, holding them down.
That’s when Cooper leveled me with a look. I knew he wasn’t kidding and I couldn’t have his hands on me, not right now, not on my bare skin. I kept repeating the words in my head, ‘Cooper would never hurt me’.
I took a quick glance at him to see if he was watching me, his nostrils flared and he was breathing heavy. Most of the time he was cool, calm and level headed and it took a lot to piss him off, so when I saw he was on the verge of losing his shit, I stripped out of my clothes quickly.
When I was completely na**d Cooper pulled the shower curtain open and nodded his head towards the water. Not wanting to piss him off anymore I stepped under the spray, letting the water wash over me. Then like a dam I broke, I lost it. I leaned my head against the shower wall and just let it all out. All the guilt I held, all the shame I felt, all the feelings of being dirty.
Seconds, minutes, hours seemed to pass before I even realized I was no longer leaning against the wall but I had wrapped myself around Cooper who had slipped in the shower with me.
“I’m so sorry, Jay.” He said, running his hands up and down my back, soothing me with the sturdy hands I needed. There was nothing sexual in any way with the way that he held me and loved me that night. Cooper was being my backbone when all I wanted to do was crumble. He wouldn’t let me crumble alone.
When the water turned cold we dried off and both went back into Cooper’s room. I looked around for a shirt of his to sleep in but he tugged on my hand and pulled me to his bed. I sat there as he walked over to his dresser and pulled out an old baseball t-shirt of his and two pairs of boxers. He dropped his towel in front of me and I had to turn my head. I wanted him so badly. I wanted him to make me his, to claim me but he wouldn’t, couldn’t. Maybe he thought I was dirty, tainted. When he finished pulling on his boxers he dropped to his knees in front of me and helped me get dressed in his clothes. We both climbed into bed. No words were exchanged since he’d apologized for the hundredth time. I hated that he blamed himself for something he had no control over. He had nothing to do with that night.
I faced the bathroom door, needing the light to calm me. I hated sleeping in the dark anymore for what the darkness brought with it, fear and anxiety, confusion, and most of all, helplessness. I was at my mind’s mercy, free to fear the past.
As if he knew my thoughts, Cooper wrapped his body around mine and then some time later the darkness pulled me under. It was in his arms, the ones that wouldn’t let me fall alone, that I slept safe and sound for the rest of the night.
As I turn around to face Cooper he reaches behind him and pulls his shirt over his head. Wanting to feel him near me, I take a few steps toward him, my hands reaching for the button of his jeans. As I get the button undone, he does nothing to stop me. He’s watching me, eyes dark and dangerous and I lose myself in them for a moment, wanting to feel what he’s thinking.
I tug his jeans down over his h*ps and watch them fall to the floor. Cooper wraps his arms around my shoulders and I hold him around his stomach. My head rests on his chest and I listen to his erratic heartbeat. Cooper inhales and the next thing I know we fall to the bed and I’m pinned under him.
He kisses my neck, my jaw, behind my ear and then starts all over again. His kisses are slow, meaningful, and even convincing. I moan as his h*ps grind into mine, an intense feeling building quickly.
Then Cooper stops suddenly and looks into my eyes. I know that look; he thinks he’s gone too far, only he hasn’t even started to scratch my itch.
Cooper starts to roll off me but I stop him. “Stop, let it go.” I beg. “Please, for me.”
I know he’s not going to, he’s not ready. Or he doesn’t think I am. I know this deep down inside and I hate it. Our relationship to me is like hitting foul balls. He’s the umpire calling the shots, keeping the game in control, telling me when I’m out.