The Shippers(75)

“A prop plane—back to London?”

“I can’t watch it anymore,” Cooper said.

“Watch what?”

“You making the worst possible choices for yourself every single time.”

“I don’t!”

But at that, Cooper dragged his eyes deliberately down my body to settle his gaze on my tragic, mangled, blistered feet, still in those ridiculous heels—and he stared at them until I looked down, too.

I mean, he wasn’t wrong. “Not every single time.”

But Cooper just shook his head. “I’m going.”

“Don’t go! I need to talk to you!”

“I’m done talking. Make your awful choices. Live your worst life. I’m done looking after you. Look after yourself for once.” He hoisted his bags onto his shoulder, and then he said, “And for god’s sake, put some better damned shoes on.”

Then he grabbed my hand and pressed something into it like he was tipping me.

And then he was out the door so fast, it was closed before I looked down to see what he’d handed me.

I unfurled my hand.

It was my flower barrette.

The one I’d lost on the playground when we were ten.





Twenty-Five


I WENT AFTER him, of course.

But I had to change into sneakers first.

Not because he told me to.

But because, at the sight of the barrette, it hit me at last.

No more resisting. No more refusing to comprehend.

It had been Cooper all along.

Cooper was the person I’d imprinted on. Cooper was the reason I couldn’t make anything work with anyone else. Cooper was the one who’d ruined my life.

Everything was Cooper.

And if I was going to chase after him right, I’d need some shoes I could run like hell in.

Dammit.

How long does it take to put on a pair of sneakers? Whatever it is, I halved it—and then I flew out the door in the sundress I’d slept in, and I sprinted down the hall.

But Cooper, I may have mentioned, is a pretty fast walker.

He was almost to the elevators before I even made it to the hallway. “Cooper! Wait!” I called—but he didn’t.

He wouldn’t get on the elevator, of course. I could catch him on the stairs.

But guess how badly that guy wanted to get away from me?

At the elevator bank, he glanced back and saw me running—and then, against his entire personality and his lifelong cleithrophobia, he slipped through the elevator doors just as they were closing, and he disappeared.



* * *



I TOOK THE stairs two at a time. I told myself to stay focused. I had to catch him before he disembarked. Cooper could not leave this ship before I explained that I hadn’t slept with Finn.

I mean, what right did Cooper have to be mad at me for anything I had or hadn’t done with anyone?

Yes, I was swooning over all the realizations, and yes, he had just kissed me senseless—but let’s not forget that he “didn’t sleep—at all—even for one minute” last night with my least favorite person on the planet.

Nothing he could be imagining about me was worse than that.

Of course, if he’d slept with Sock Girl only because he thought I was off canoodling with Finn … maybe that made it better?

Or maybe that made it so much worse.

I mean, at least tell me the truth about my destiny before you give up on me forever!

Right?!

If that was even what was going on.

Because I had no idea what was going on.

All I knew was I had to catch him. Everything rested on setting the record straight—about Finn first. And then about this: When I’d said that kiss Cooper gave me just now was “not even close” to the same, I meant that in a let’s-get-married way.

Though maybe I wouldn’t put it like that.

Look. Did that smoking-hot-to-the-melting-point, blindfolded, deeply adult kiss Cooper had just bestowed upon me resemble in any way the chaste little peck I’d received on the playground as a kid?

No. Obviously—no.

But I didn’t need a replica kiss for proof. I didn’t need proof at all.

I believed Cooper.

I could always tell when he was lying, for one thing. But—more important—he would never lie about something like this. Something that mattered.

It was true because he said it was true. And that was it.

More than that, I wanted it to be true.

Did it mean the entire story of my life had been built on a lie?

Maybe. There was a lot to unpack there.

But I had my whole life to process that. Right now, I just had to stop Cooper.



* * *



WHEN I MADE it to the gangway, Cooper was nowhere in sight, but I didn’t slow down. In fact, I upped my speed.

But just as I launched into a full sprint, my dad intercepted me. Physically. He hooked his arm around my waist as I was running past him—restraining me like a seat belt before letting me drop to a full stop beside him.

“Whoa, whoa—slow down!” my dad said.

I turned to face him. “Dad!” I said, breathless. “I can’t stop!”

But my dad pointed at me. “Stay right there.”

Was it not obvious that I was mid mad dash? “I’m in the middle of something here.”