Love, Life, and the List - Page 22/56

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.

The party was happening five days from now. I wanted to tell him that I changed my mind. That I did the Fourth of July on the pier. I watched the fireworks light sections of the ocean bright blue or green or pink. And I watched those same colors reflected in Cooper’s eyes. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I had been doing the same things day after day and year after year and expecting different results. Who had said that was the definition of insanity? Einstein? Whoever it was had seen inside my head.

My thumbs were poised ready to type something back when Mr. Wallace came down the hall. “Abby, can you take a summer preschool group through the museum Saturday at four? It was a last-minute request and all my docents are busy.”

“Saturday?”

“Yes. I know you don’t normally do tours, but it would really help me out.”