I raised my eyebrows. “Golden?”
He swatted his hand at me. “Don’t start.”
I held his sparkling eyes and laughed.
“I have one,” Lacey said, tilting her head at me. “Unrequited love or not being able to love at all?”
I shot her wide eyes, but she just gave me innocent ones back.
“Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?” Elliot asked. “Did you seriously just ask that question?”
“Is that a famous question?” Iris asked.
“Tennyson,” I said. “Do you really not know that age-old quote?”
“It sounds familiar,” she said. “And I think I’d rather not love at all. Unrequited love is so pathetic.”
“Ouch,” Lacey said. “I don’t think it’s pathetic. But very tragic. Artists use it to feed their muses. Muses are such ravenous things.”
Now I couldn’t help but laugh. I picked up a piece of watermelon from the plate I had abandoned on the ground next to me and threw it at her. She jumped off the end of the chair with a scream, which sent the chair teetering backward with its now uneven weight distribution. I rolled off onto the ground and Elliot landed on top of me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, pushing himself off, then helping me up. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Cooper was there too, obviously having jumped out of his chair when ours toppled. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, giving me a once-over.
“Whoever said chivalry was dead?” Lacey asked.
I held my hands up. “Boys, seriously, it was, like, a one-foot fall.”
“I wasn’t worried about the fall. Just the weight that landed on you,” Cooper said, smacking Elliot on the back playfully.
I tilted my head at Cooper. He was definitely acting weird. “I’m fine.”
We all settled back into our spots and spent the next hour playing the game. Finally, Lacey stretched and said, “I better go see a man about some fireworks.” She stood up, this time making sure we’d repositioned our weight before taking hers completely off.
“Need any help?” I asked.
“Sure. We’ll be back,” she said to the rest of the group as I joined her. “The best view will be on the deck by the pool. You all might want to move there.”
When we were out of hearing range of the group, I said, “Are you trying to give me away?”
She laughed a little. “It was harmless. I don’t think he suspected anything. Besides, he’s here with his girlfriend.”
“She is not his girlfriend. They’ve only been on, like, two dates.”
“Not too serious yet then.”
“Did you notice Cooper acting different tonight?”
“I don’t know him well enough to know his normal.”
“Do you think it’s possible that . . . could Cooper be . . . jealous of Elliot?” I said it out loud and I sort of wanted to take it back.
“Possibly.” We walked around the side of the house toward the garage. “Have you thought about just telling Cooper how you feel?”
“I’m trying to get over Cooper.”
“Even the Cooper that may or may not be showing signs of jealousy?”
I groaned. “He’s my friend, and I’ll go and ruin everything. I gave him a chance, and believe me when I say it wasn’t well received.”
She shrugged. “Things change.”
I wasn’t sure if they’d changed enough. Regardless of his weird behavior, he was here with Iris and I was here with Elliot. So tonight definitely wasn’t a night for confessions.
The garage was big and housed four cars. One had a cover over it, only shiny black wheels showing. A man, I assumed Lacey’s dad, stood looking in some boxes in the corner.
“Are the fireworks ready?”
He straightened up and turned around. “If we only shoot off a couple of the illegal ones, we should be fine, right?”
“Abby won’t turn us in,” Lacey said.
“I’d actually hand you both over pretty quickly with just the threat of torture.”
“She’s kidding,” Lacey said, when he seemed worried by my statement. “Come on, we’ll help you carry boxes.” Between the three of us, it only took one trip to deliver the fireworks to the side of the pool. Then Lacey and I joined the others on the deck.
The fireworks weren’t professional city-quality ones or anything, but they were cool. And as the illegal sky rockets lit up the sky with their loud bangs of color, I noticed Cooper looking at me. He averted his gaze. Maybe things could change.
TWENTY-ONE
When I walked in the house several hours later, Mom and Grandpa were sitting in the living room pretending to watch television.
“You’re still awake?” I said, stopping in the entryway. “Isn’t it past your bedtimes?”
Mom turned off the TV. “We wanted to see how your date went.”
I sat down on the couch next to her. “It was fun. He sculpts.”
“Sculpts?” Mom asked. “Is that a workout term?”
“No. He literally takes clay and molds it into cool things. Or at least I think they’re cool. I’ve never seen them before.”
Her face lit up. “He’s an artist.”
“But don’t get your hopes up, because I’m not sure if things will go any further.” The fact that I ended the night hopeful that Cooper was jealous was not the right way to start a new relationship.
“Sometimes it takes a while to know if you like someone.”
“I know.”
“Well, I’m proud of you for trying. Maybe now that you saw how fun it can be, you can go out again. Or ask another boy out,” Mom said.
That sounded like the worst idea in the world. “Yep. Sounds like a plan.” When I realized they were waiting for something more, I said, “I’ll just pick one of the boys lining up at the door waiting to court me.”
“See, I knew she was being sarcastic,” my mom said.
“Do you have anything to add to this interrogation, Grandpa?”
“I’ll interview the line of boys to see who’s after you for only your wealth and beauty.”
I stood and kissed my mom on the cheek, then my grandpa. “I’m going to bed. I love you both. Good night.”
The next day I woke up in the best possible way. With a Cooper text. It said:
My sister’s goldfish died. We’re having a ceremony. Get over here now.
I mean, I guess that wasn’t exactly the best way. If the life of the goldfish could’ve been spared, it would’ve been much better. But it had happened, and he had texted me.
Roger. On my way.
I brushed my teeth, replaced my bed shorts for jean shorts, and headed for the door. “Going to Cooper’s. I’ll be back later.”
“Okay, have fun,” Mom said.
A thought occurred to me and I backtracked, grabbed my newest painting—the one of the fish—and left.
“Did you even brush your hair?” Cooper asked when he answered the door. “And you slept in that tank top, didn’t you? For the love of Pete, this is a memorial service.”
“Ha-ha.”
He smiled and pulled me inside by the arm. He shut the door, then paused for a moment. The entryway was dim and I looked up, confused. His eyes met mine, holding them for three breath-stealing seconds. Then his smile brightened. “Let’s go,” he said.