Love Sex & Other Games: Part 3 by Cheryl McIntyre Page B

At the time it seemed like a good idea—I’d have what I need to go straight from his house to school tomorrow morning—but now I feel like it was rather presumptuous to assume he’d want me there all night. Because technically he didn’t say he wanted me there at all.
    I’ll just leave it in the car.
    I park as close to Cooper’s condo as I can and make a run for his door, which I notice is already standing open. Damn, am I that transparent? He is obviously expecting me. Not that I’m complaining. I’m freezing. The quicker I get inside and steal his body heat, the better.
    My shoes slap the concrete, splashing through a puddle and soaking them all the way through. Great. Then I’m bounding up the steps and through his doorway.
    The wet soles of my Converse squeak against the tiled floor as I slide to a stop. My clothes are clinging to me, my hair dripping, my teeth chattering. But none of that makes me feel as uncomfortable as the sight before me.
    Cooper’s eyes, wide with surprise, meet mine over my sister’s shoulder. My eyes, however, take in the way his arms are wrapped around her back. The way she clings to his bare chest, her face in the crook of his neck.
    My stomach tightens painfully, churning with realization. I almost throw up right there on his rain-soaked entryway. It took her a while, but she finally came for him.
    This is why we can’t have nice things.
    It’s such an inappropriate thought, but it whirls through my mind anyway.
    I don’t have time to consider what this means for Miles. All I can think about is what it means for me. Without a word, I turn and flee the way I just came. Cooper calls my name, but I don’t stop. This time, I don’t notice the rain or the cold. I slide into the driver’s seat and press the lock button as I start the ignition.
    Cooper’s hand touches my window as he tries the handle. “Em,” he calls. “Wait. Don’t go. Let me explain.”
    I put the gear in reverse. There is no possible way I can listen to him explain whatever is going on between he and my sister. Not now. Probably not ever.
    “EM!” he shouts, his hand now smacking against the glass.
    I don’t even remember backing up or shifting into drive, but I’m idling in the middle of the parking lot now.
    “EM, PLEASE.”
    I glance up to see my sister, her hand over her mouth, standing in Cooper’s doorway. I can’t make out the expression on her face through the downpour, but her posture says enough. Guilty . My foot presses on the gas. Cooper’s fingers slide from the window. After that, everything is a blur. I shut off my phone when it won’t stop ringing. I bypass my apartment because if he decides to come to my place, there is no way I can do a face-to-face. I contemplate going home to my parents, but I don’t think I can handle looking at the Fitzpatrick’s house right across the street. Or telling Mom why I’m there. That’s Rosie’s mess to clean up now. Not mine.
    A friend’s house would be better.
    How could she do this to Miles? How could Cooper?
    How could he do this to me?
    Ugh. Why? Why am I never good enough? I just lost another Fitzpatrick brother to her. No. I didn’t lose him. He was always hers. I knew that. He told me that. He told everyone that.
    Stupid.
    So fucking stupid, Em.
    He’s loved her his entire life. That doesn’t magically go away. Just because it was working for me, doesn’t mean it was working for him. Obviously. I can’t tell if the moisture on my face is rain or tears. My eyes burn. Shit. It’s definitely tears. I blow out a slow breath and try to steady myself, my thoughts. It’s not worth crying over. No guy is. Not even someone as great as Cooper.
    I repeat it over and over until there’s no use. The road is a blob through the unending moisture in my eyes. I pull off to the side of the road, drop my head to the steering wheel and let it all pour out.

 
    THE PERSISTENCE OF COOPER FITZPATRICK
     
     
    Emerson
     
     
    “What’s wrong?”