Ephemeral (The Countenance) (49 page)

“I stayed pretty late,” he says it soft, his eyes locking onto mine.

“So I guess you had lots of company.” An image of Grayson spasming over his flesh corrupts my thoughts.

“I did.” He gives a reluctant nod and moves in closer. “It provided for an interesting evening.” A fire brews between us as he shoulders up to me. He doesn’t waver his penetrating stare. “I thought maybe you’d come back.” He sweeps the carpet with his gaze. “I guess you were having a good time.”

I take a breath and seal it in my lungs.

Cooper waited.

It kills me on the inside. Cooper is aching and I want to offer myself to him as a balm, but I can’t. 

There’s something defining itself here, something humble and right. I try to shake the thought away and deny any idea of Coop ever steering me away from Wes.

“Any leads on the nutcase in hot pursuit of my love life?” I pretend to interest myself in a display of cable-knit scarves, long and strong like the noose I’d like to hang Grayson with.

The depressing image of Coop and me at the football game magically disappeared by the time I got back to my room last night.

“Am I a part of your love life?” He says it sarcastic as though I had implied something that wasn’t there—something that I was wishing for. Before I can answer, he lets me off the hook. “I have some information coming to me. Answers might be involved.”

It doesn’t sound very promising.

“What about Kettles?” I ask.

The thought of a dark beach with Coop quenches me like a cool glass of water. Being with Wes is like wearing seven-inch heels on concrete, uphill. And spending time with Cooper is like kicking them off, running barefoot through a field of spring grass, alive and carefree. I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to try to be someone I’m not.

“I’d rather we work on those lit reports in my room,” he whispers it like a lure. “You know—if you needed the help. My bed misses you, by the way.” 

“You’re changing the subject.” I catch the smile before it has a chance to fully form on his lips.

“Kettles.” His cheek slides up on one side. “Should I bring a date?”

“I thought I was your date. If you don’t show, how ever will we propagate our love life?” I tease. He smolders into me with a knowing look. I can feel the temperature rise as a bite of heat sweeps through me. “Guess you had a goodtime last night since you stayed so long.”

“Rumor has it you did, too.”

“I wasn’t the one hanging out with girls in their underwear.” I shrug off his accusation.

Cooper steps in front of me. His eyes bear into mine with a mix of agony and ecstasy. “Maybe you were hanging out with boys in theirs.” He leaves it out there to see if I’ll bite. Beneath it all, he loves this careless banter, indulges in it just to see me squirm.

“Not I.” Wes may have unbuttoned his jeans, but it went no further. I smirk into the scarf I’m holding. “So you hang out with anyone of the male persuasion last night?”

“You mean, how long was I around blond bikini models?” His lids hang heavy. “Did they touch me?” His face inches toward mine like a dare. “Take me upstairs and tie me to a bedpost with what little clothing they had left?” The hard line of his jaw glints in the light, annunciating his chiseled good looks. His warm breath sears my flesh, and for one weak moment I push my lips close to his.

“How about this?” Marky comes up from behind.

“That’s great!” I straighten. I don’t even process whatever it is she’s holding, just revert my attention back to the display of scarves and pull out a long green one the exact color of Wesley’s eyes. I should lose myself in it. Go blind trying to absorb its pigment,
swallow
it to keep from engaging in conversations about girls in their underwear—to keep my flesh from lusting after another guy in general.

Shit. This is all going freaking south. Another second, and I would have been lost in a lip lock with a guy who, by the way, is not my boyfriend. I hate the effect Cooper has on me. I should run screaming all the way back to campus.

“I’m going to try these on.” Marky points toward the dressing room before disappearing behind an orange curtain.

Coop comes up from behind and presses his body against me.

“I can’t kiss you,” I whisper.

“You want to,” he says. It comes out like a poem.

I spin around and take him in. Perfect Cooper, dangerous Cooper, very much off limits Cooper—someone I can never have.

His chest heaves, his breathing grows erratic, and for one fleeting moment I think he’s going to throw caution to the wind and cover my mouth with his. Every part of me aches for him to do it. It’s the one and only cheer my body willingly participates in.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” He says it breathless as though it were about to transpire.

I shake my head in protest. “Can’t happen.”

His cheek pinches on the side as he holds me steady with his metallic gaze. “I’d bet what little money I have that it happens in the very near future. That you’ll want it—demand it.”

“You flatter yourself unnecessarily.” I shake my head at his ludicrous assumption. Clearly Cooper Flanders doesn’t lack ego or balls.

“Maybe.” The pretentious smile glides off his face. “Maybe I’d rather flatter myself unnecessarily than think about you with Wes,” he whispers it so low it comes out a dirty confession. That seems to be the bridge that connects Cooper and I, brick after brick of unimaginable truths, tarnished and dirty, too embarrassing to say out loud in public.

I let the scarf drop to the floor and run my fingers through the thick waves in the back of his hair. My insides loosen, and an unnatural thump pulsates through my chest as I retract my hand from out of the fire.

“I’m sorry.” I look down in disbelief. “Coop, I’m so sorry,” I struggle for the right words. “I’m not trying to lead you on, I swear.”

Marky jumps out of the dressing room and I give a thumbs up to a bright pink sweater that makes her eyes pop like black buttons on a teddy bear.

“I would never in a million years want to hurt Marky,” I whisper. I don’t know what spurred that odd spontaneous confession. It’s not Marky’s affections I’m trying to deflect. I turn to face him fully, take in the boyish way about him that lingers below his inflated self-confidence. “You have to believe me when I say you’re special. I really do feel something for you—but I have Wes.” There it is, the dagger in which I carve out his heart. “We’re still a team, right? You’re the only one who believes me, Coop. I can’t lose you.”

Cooper takes in a breath and picks up my hand. He massages his thumb over my knuckles as if he were funneling all of his energy there, so the hurt won’t show in his eyes—bleed through in his words.

“I do believe you, Laken. I believe everything you say to me.”

I sag with relief. There is no better way to love me than with those very words. Perhaps that’s why Cooper has harnessed the ability to eclipse Wes in the race for my heart without even trying.

Coop takes a breath—hides the beginnings of a smile that lets me know he heard.

My eyes widen at the thing of horror my mind has become—a voyeuristic gossip of malicious intent, a drunkard reeling around the street while espousing palace secrets.

The dimple below his eye defines its teardrop shape as he squeezes my hand.

“You didn’t hear me, did you?” His eyes round out.

“No.” I blink back in surprise.

He lets his cheeks rise and fall. “Looks like it’s time for another infusion.”

50

Injustice for All

By the time I get home from my shopping spree with Cooper and Marky, Jen has already assembled a wardrobe library from a few of her girlfriends from Trinity U.

“Mom offered to take us shopping tomorrow,” she snaps, still obviously pissed at the world for existing.

“Perfect.” Grayson blinks through my mind. “Actually, I was invited to go to the movie screening tomorrow night.
Power Position
, starring Grayson’s boobs.”

“I heard she’s on screen for like ten seconds.” Jen casts a look of disgust at the ceiling.

“Ten seconds affords a lot of flesh to be discovered.” Maybe I can artfully distract Coop with a text just as she takes up the screen with her mammoth cleavage. Then again, I am going with Wes, and maybe Cooper falling in love with Grayson wouldn’t be such a bad idea. It just feels like one. I mean
I
have someone else, certainly he’s entitled to the same. I can’t seriously want him to pine for me while I have a life with Wes. But something inside me does want that. It very much demands that he aches for me and stays the hell away from Grayson Double E Evans.

I hate that part of me.

“Wes stopped by.” Jen takes a seat at the desk, her face blank as a doll’s. “He left something for you on the desk.”

My heart thumps.

“You tell him where I went?” Stupid, stupid me mentioned in passing this morning I was heading out with Cooper to the mall.

“Just that you went shopping.” She inventories the makeup cluttering her desk. “Are you seeing Cooper behind Wesley’s back?”

“No!
God
, no. Cooper and Wes are good friends. I was just helping his little sister pick some clothes out for picture day. You know”—I sigh with effort—“she doesn’t have a mom.”

“So you’re volunteering?” Jen gags on the words like the concept borders on something immoral.

“Yes, I’m volunteering. She needed some sisterly advice, and I’m more than willing to give it.”

Speaking of sisters, it’s strange seeing Jen in this new light as a real blood and flesh member of my questionable family. What does it mean for the original Jen? I certainly don’t love her any less. And God—what about Lacey?

“Cooper needs to find himself a girlfriend, so she can fill that sisterly role.” Jen huffs at the idea of me volunteering for the position. “You have a boyfriend, Laken—one who left the most ridiculously romantic gift for you while you were playing house with some other guy. Get it together, or Wes will find someone who’ll pay him the one hundred percent of attention he deserves.”

A long olive branch lies over my desk. I pick it up and examine its bristled leaves. It’s like awakening from a dream, like swallowing a fantasy and having it be real. Each sage-colored leaf is peppered with a heartfelt
I love you
.

Guilt coats me from the inside heavy as tar.

Jen is right. There’s no way Wes is going to tolerate me dividing my relationship on any level with Cooper for very long.

I twirl the blessed branch—roll the stem between my fingers and watch it spin into an infinite blur of Wesley’s perfect love for me. But it’s my love for him that drives me to Cooper in the first place. Cooper and I are going to dismantle the Counts’ ability to kidnap another soul, stop them from washing clean every precious memory from a person’s existence. They stole Wes from me once, and now they’re trying to shove this new version down my throat. Cooper’s mother—Casper—I smell the Counts at every turn.

I pause and touch my fingers to the tiny silver leaves. Wes touched each one with his heart for me.

“The Autumn Sacrament is next week.” Jen sweeps a brush through her hair, pale as milk in this unforgiving light.

“What’s that?”

“It’s how Austen House kicks off the school year. It’s a bonding thing. Of course, Jax will be there.” She rakes through her hair a few more times. “I think I’ll hold out my ultimate revenge until then.”

“And what about Blaine?”

“For him, I have something special planned.”

“I hope pain is involved.” Somehow I doubt this. For him she’s probably mapped out a picnic. “Sometimes pain is necessary,” I say, heading into the bathroom and pulling a metal nail file from out of the drawer.

I open my mouth and run my tongue along the outer ridge of my teeth before landing soft over my canines.

I’m about to do something for love, and I’m pretty damn sure it’s going to hurt like hell.

Late in the evening, Cooper offers to drive the four of us out to Kettles. The midnight blues of a tail-end autumn sky glow from above. There’s no rain in sight, just an icy wind capable of turning the soil into arctic tundra.