"Do you still love me?" I asked.
Cooper inhaled harshly. When he spoke, his voice broke. "So much it hurts."
"I love you too. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing."
"I heard something like gunshots," I said, glancing back at the window.
"It's fireworks. A lot of people party when parents are in town. Shows you what kind of students we have that their parents are wild."
Smiling slightly, I pulled the covers over me. When I had trouble yanking up his heavy comforter, Cooper reached out to help. Without thinking, I flinched and nearly fell off the bed again. His expression wasn't unreadable anymore. He looked like a hurt boy who lost his best friend.
"I … "
"Don't say you're sorry."
"I want to hold your hand."
Once Cooper laid his hand palm down on the pillow in between us, I rested mine on top of it.
"The dream felt so real," I said, trying to explain.
"Was it about me?"
Shaking my head, I frowned. "Why would I dream anything bad about you?"
The corner of Cooper's mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but his mood was too miserable. "You're still shaking," he said after a minute.
"I'm glad you're here. I would have been so scared in my apartment."
Cooper finally smiled just a hint, but I knew he was bothered by my inability to find comfort from his touch. He rested on his side and watched me until I fell asleep.
When I woke up, Cooper was staring hard at the ceiling. He looked so angry that I was afraid for him to notice my eyes were open. Eventually, I slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom. After cleaning up, I returned to bed where Cooper still glared at the ceiling.
Unsure why he was upset, I felt a panic deep in my gut over losing him. I didn't have any words to fix his anger so I used something I figured he would enjoy more.
Kissing his chest as I slid in next to him, I licked the outline of the cross on his chest. Cooper's breathing shifted, but I didn't dare look at him and ruin the possibility of improving his mood.
I tried to channel the sexy part of me that knew what to do to make him feel good. Cooper's hands were behind his head as I climbed over him to tease his chest. Then I moved lower to his hard stomach and softly kissed the flesh the way he always did to me. In no hurry, I imitated Cooper and his leisurely way of making me squirm.
Cooper's breathing sped up as I slid down past his belly button. Finally, I lifted my gaze to his face where he watched me with an odd expression. It was somewhere between horny as hell and examining an alien life form.
The horny as hell part made it an easy transition from his stomach to his hard cock. As it thickened even more in my mouth, I might not feel confident, but I could fake it. I'd gone to school sick before. I'd smiled on bad days. I could fake a lot of things, and I could fake like I was a pro at blowjobs.
No matter my plans, Cooper stopped me. I tried to keep going, but he sat up and pulled me off him. "Just stop," he said, wiping my wet cheeks. "It's awful. You know that, right?"
"I can get better."
Cooper shook his head and leaned back on the bed. He was still so hard, and I wasn't giving up. Either I needed to be more confident or fake it better. Straddling him, I tried to guide him inside, but couldn't. Suddenly, I was too small, or he was too big, or I was just aiming wrong. Again, Cooper stopped me.
"Knock it off," he growled, his dark eyes irritated. "You're going to hurt yourself."
"I want this," I whimpered, full of frustration and panic. "Please."
Cooper lifted me off his hips and I started to cry until he leaned over and kissed me. Soon, he was angled between my legs as his fingers stroked my nipples and his lips sucked hard on my tongue. Pulling his mouth away, he nuzzled his face in my hair.
"Tell me you love me," he murmured in my ear. "Make me believe you want me."
"I do. I love you so much, Cooper. More than anything. Please."
Somehow, when he thrust inside me, he fit perfectly, and I didn't know how in the hell I messed it up minutes earlier. I decided to concentrate on him, but I still felt that panic in my gut. My fear grew in waves until I had trouble taking a good breath.
My hands stroked his chest, wanting him to know I loved him. I needed Cooper to ignore my tears and the look on my face. The same look that forced him to close his eyes as if he couldn't finish if he saw me.
Afterward, I rested against him as he again stared at the ceiling. Cooper was silent for nearly a half hour. A braver girl would have asked already, but I wasn't brave. The last week was tougher than the first, and I didn't want to fight with Cooper. So I rested next to him with my hand on his arm, just over the patriotic eagle. By the time Cooper spoke, I had memorized the tattoo, down to every feather.
"Something has to change," he said softly as his gaze remained focused on the ceiling. "I don't know how you can mouth off about the smallest shit, but then lay there and let me fuck you when you hate it."
"I don't hate it."
Cooper sighed angrily. "You're not much of an actress, Farah. Your every damn emotion is written across your face. When you're pissed. When you're happy. When you're miserable with me fucking you, it's all right there for me to see."
What could I say? Sorry that my face does things I can't control? Sorry that I don't like sex and applaud you like every other girl? In the end, I just went with sorry and Cooper sighed again.
"Sorry you don't want sex or sorry that I know you don't want sex? Or maybe you're sorry for not being able to get away from me? What exactly are you sorry for?"
"I'm sorry you're upset."
"Liar."
"I don't know what you want."
"That's the problem, isn't it?" he said, turning over to glare at me. "You don't know what you want, so how the hell can you know what anyone else wants?"
"I know what I want."
"To go to school. To be a teacher. You want shit you filled your head with when you were a kid. Now you're an adult wanting that crap. Do you really want it, though? Do you want me? Do you even like guys?"
"I'm not a lesbian," I said, getting out of bed and reaching for my clothes. "That's such a cliché guys go to when a girl doesn't react the way they want about sex."
"No," Cooper muttered, yanking on his jeans. "You might actually be a lesbian and not know it. I'm not sure you do much thinking about stuff outside your kiddie dreams."
"I am attracted to you. You are not a girl. I am not a lesbian. If I were, I would have told you to fuck off right away."
"Maybe not. It's a small town. People act stupid. Maybe you figured you'd play along. I do tip well, and you get friends and rides and shit by pretending to like me except you can't pretend. Your fucking face won't let you lie."
"Lesbians don't have sex with guys so they can get tips."
"How would you know?"
"Fuck you. You don't get your way, and your immediate response is to accuse me of using you. I couldn't just be young and unsure. No, I'm a bitch mooching off the rich guy. Fuck you, Coop."
Once dressed, I wanted to leave, but needed a ride from the asshole behind me. Turning to him, I found Cooper so pissed I was surprised steam wasn't pulsing out of his ears.
"I'm leaving," I said, crossing my arms.
"We need to fucking talk."
"About what? All the ways I use you and how you're an innocent victim of my lesbian trickery? You're an idiot, and I want to go home."
Walking to the door, I wasn't surprised when Cooper stepped in my way and blocked the exit.
"I said we need to talk."
"And I said about what?"
"About how you cry every time we're together. Even out in the hot tub where for five seconds you seemed to enjoy yourself, you ended up bawling. Why do you keep doing shit you hate? Hell, when you went down on me, I thought you might puke you were crying so hard."
Wrapping my arms tightly around my body, I tried to disappear. Even if Cooper wasn't looming over me looking scary as shit, I wasn't discussing my sex issues with him again.
"Fuck!" he hollered, punching a hole in the wall two inches from my face. "You just shut down whenever you don't get your way. You won't talk to me about anything. I get that you have a shit family, but that's no reason to spend the rest of your life making shitty decisions."
Trembling at how close he came to punching me, I whispered, "I'm going home."
"I'm not taking you home. If you want to leave, fucking walk."
Staring into Cooper's angry eyes, I realized he expected me to back down. He expected wrong.
While I might have issues with sex and talking about my every farting feeling, I had no problem walking long distances. My family was often without transportation when I was growing up. Either the car didn't work, or we didn't have money for gas.
Leaving Cooper's apartment, I walked down the stairs and pulled on my backpack. If I walked steadily, I could make it home in an hour. Two at the most. Screw him for thinking I would give a shit about a little exercise. Screw him for being so pampered that he didn't realize others survived without having their asses wiped every day.