The Shippers(74)

“I know that, too,” Cooper said.

I was practically lightheaded from all the waiting.

“Here’s another thing that never happened,” he said.

True, I couldn’t see right then. But, maybe because I couldn’t see, I could sense him. More than usual. More than ever before. I could hear his breath. I could sense his warmth. His hands on me shone like bright things in the universe—something to navigate by, like stars.

I couldn’t see what happened next, but I could feel it. I could anticipate his movements the way you sense the rhythm of a song. I could read my senses like sheet music, giving in to the crescendo of it all as Cooper—my lifelong friend Cooper—pressed his mouth to mine and kissed me.

Kissed me like …

Like …

Like his life depended on it.

He kissed me like nothing else existed. He kissed me out of time and space. He kissed me like this one kiss was the answer to everything. He brought us there and then he kept us there, pressing and kneading and cajoling me to soften and open and kiss him back. Which—with no resistance at all—I did. And that’s when he shifted closer and brought the rest of his body into the project, pressing me into place against the wall.

It was insistent. And urging. Like an argument he had to win.

It might have given me a glimpse of eternity.

I can’t be sure.

At the minimum, it was very, very convincing.

Convincing of what? I don’t know.

Maybe of how everything can be totally wrong and exactly right at the same time?

One thing was certain: I didn’t need to know. Or maybe I’d known all along.

I just let that kiss have its way.

Cooper pressed and brushed and savored—and I did all those same things right back to him. It was as good as the hickey—all the shivers and the waves and the astonishment—but it was also better. Because this time, I got to kiss him back.

Had we just been fighting? I couldn’t for the life of me think why. I was melting, and flowing, and getting so lost—in ways that felt exactly like being found.

And then, abruptly, Cooper stopped.

And stepped back.

And then I was alone, chilled by the breeze. I put my hands back against the balcony partition to steady myself.

I waited for a second, still blindfolded—thinking for sure this couldn’t be the end. Why on earth would anyone ever stop doing something so lovely?

But we didn’t start up again.

I reached up in slo-mo to pull the tie down from my eyes like I was lost in a dream, and I saw Cooper right there, looking right at me like he was waiting for my answer—though any chance of clearing anything up with Cooper from my end was now completely gone.

My brain was fully scrambled.

“The same, right?” he said, searching my eyes, expecting me to agree. “Exactly the same.”

I’m surprised I could even corral enough breath to respond. “Not even close,” I said.

But I guess he didn’t realize I meant that in a good way.

At my answer, his expression hardened like a slammed door. He remembered he was angry, and I remembered he was, too.

I guess he must have thought I was sticking to my story. I was choosing Finn.

Finn, who, looking back, Cooper thought I’d just spent the night with.

A thought that seemed so laughable now.

But it was like I’d been drugged.

I just couldn’t break my daze. I stayed slumped against the wall and watched as Cooper turned away. He moved back inside and shoved the sliding door closed behind him.

For a minute or two, all I could do was stay braced and still—just me and the wind, chaotic and alone.

What just happened?

Had Cooper actually, truly just changed the story of my life?

I turned to watch him through the glass door, but the reflection of the sky blocked my view. I stepped closer and leaned my forehead against the glass, looking through my own shadow. He was moving around the room, opening and closing cabinets and drawers, and it was Cooper, of course … but it was like I’d never seen him before. The way his shoulder muscles flexed under his shirt. The press and release of his calves with each step. And his forearms—good god, his forearms—as he packed up his things.

Wait—as he what?

I slid the door open and stepped inside. “What are you doing?” I asked, alarm sobering me up.

“I’m done,” Cooper said. “I’m out.”

“Out? Out of what?”

“I can’t stay here,” Cooper said. “I’m losing my mind.”

“I’m losing my mind, too,” I said. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’re not coming with me,” Cooper said.

“But we still need to talk!” The daze was burning off now.

“I’m done talking,” Cooper said then. “I’m done with everything. I quit.”

“You quit? What is this—a job?”

“Worst job I ever had.”

“Are you—packing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Was he getting off the ship—permanently? “Are you just going to live here? In the Bahamas?”

“I’ll find a prop plane or something.”