I smiled, hearing he thought our outing was epic. "Okay."
He backed out of my room, and I watched him disappear behind the bathroom door across the hall.
FIFTEEN
"You really shouldn't shower here!" I called out to him. Like I needed the person I was trying not to be in love with waltzing around my bathroom . . . showering.
I thought he hadn't heard me, but the door popped back open and he leaned out. "What?"
Gah. I was being ridiculous. He'd showered here before. "Nothing. Go shower."
I picked up the dried crickets from the carpet and deposited them in my trash. Then I added another checkmark to my list. I was still on track. Three paintings almost done and nearly half my list. I was convinced I could make the deadline now, but not completely convinced Mr. Wallace would see any growth. Different didn't necessarily mean better.
When I walked by the bathroom, Cooper was humming some tune I didn't recognize. I joined my grandpa and mom in the living room.
"Where's Cooper? Trailing more coral paint through the house?" Grandpa asked.
"Coral, right? I'm glad we agree on the color." I gestured down the hall with my head and sat down. "He's washing the coral paint down the drain."
My mom, who had been sitting on the couch reading her True Crime book, raised her eyebrows. "How's the list coming?"
"Pretty good. I still have a few to do. But I am halfway in love, according to Grandpa."
"Oh yes, I heard about Elliot," she said.
"You two are like gossipy tweens. No secrets can be shared here."
"I am a vault," my mom said in faux offense.
"And I am the safe inside the vault," my grandpa said.
I rolled my eyes.
"We don't tell anyone else," Mom said.
I almost said, of course you don't, you don't see anyone else. But there was some sarcasm even I resisted.
"Well, except Dad."
"You told Dad?"
"Of course, honey, he likes to hear these things. He said you haven't emailed him lately."
I cringed. He'd sent me a response to my last email where he'd listed off several alternative name choices I could pick from and asked what other experiences I'd done off my list that he could tell me he disapproved of. I'd read the email on my phone, meaning to respond once I was in front of my laptop, but I never had. "I know. I forgot. At this point, I'm just waiting for his weekly phone call. That's easier."
My mom sighed. "Easier does not promote communication."
"I'm going to put that on a T-shirt."
"Seriously, Abby."
"I know, Mom. I'll email him." I headed for the kitchen. "I'm going to get some ice cream. Cricket aftertaste isn't great."
By the time I had scooped myself a bowl of mint chip ice cream and gone back to the living room, Cooper was sitting on the couch, hair still dripping and hot-pink shirt too small on him. It stretched tight on his biceps and across his chest. I quickly looked away before my grandpa saw me staring.
"Did you eat a cricket too?" Mom asked him.
"Yes. It was flavored, I think." He tugged at the neck of the shirt.
"Salt and pepper," I said.
"Abby is working on number five on the list," Grandpa said.
"You know the numbers?" I asked.
"No, it was just a stab in the dark. But I mean the falling in love one."
I had just taken a big bite of ice cream and I swallowed it too quickly, causing a brain freeze. I hopped around until the pain subsided, then pointed to my grandpa first and then my mom. "Cooper, meet the vault and the safe inside the vault."
"I didn't say anything," my mom said.
"Falling in love?" Cooper asked with a teasing smile. "Did you meet someone?"
"Nope. We just saw Elliot at the store. Grandpa is overreaching."
"Elliot again?" Cooper asked. "That's twice in two weeks. Maybe it's fate." He emphasized the word I liked to use. "You two should come on a double date with me and Ris."
Grandpa put up his finger. "Elliot said he was going to a Fourth of July party."
"Perfect!" Cooper said. "We can all hang out together there. I'm going to call him."
"You don't have his number."
"I do. I got it on that napkin, remember?"
"Hey, Grandpa? Remember that deep-tissue massage technique you taught me?"
"Yes."
"Cooper has a really bad knot in his neck. Can you work it out for him?"
Grandpa pushed the ottoman that sat in front of him out with his foot. "Have a seat, my boy. Let's nip that knot in the bud."
"I'm going to bed." It probably wasn't even nine o'clock, but I was annoyed at everyone in the room. I finished off my ice cream and put the bowl in the sink. "Let's all try this again tomorrow."
Once in my room, I opened my laptop and typed a quick email to my dad.
From the daughter who is bad at emails, to the father who is the master of them,
Sorry! I've been busy growing my heart. It takes work. Let's see, what have I done? I tried out for a play. Not sure what it taught me. Maybe that making a fool of myself is something I excel in. I'm reading two classics simultaneously. They are both equally old and mind stretching. I thought I knew English, but apparently I don't. I watched a sunrise. How come you and Mom have never forced me to do that before? Does this make you horrible parents? It's up for debate. I helped at a soup kitchen. The kids there are so little. It was heartbreaking, but also taught me that I have so much to be thankful for. I also heard that Mom told you about Elliot. That is nothing, so no need for twenty questions about him. I don't think I could even answer twenty questions about him. Maybe three, and they'd all have to be about how he looks. Speaking of Mom, she went on a walk with us the other day.
I paused in my writing, remembering what Grandpa and I had talked about in the grocery store. I wondered if I should put my two cents in about Mom and therapy. I shook my head. He didn't need the extra worry. Plus, I wasn't sure I agreed with my grandpa. We were fine. I typed some final thoughts into the email.
She did great. Love you tons. Talk to you soon.
Then I sent it off. I turned out the lights, crawled into bed, and listened to Cooper joke and laugh with my family in the other room. Just the sound of his voice made me happy. I sighed. I had been right, spending all this alone time with Cooper was not helping in the feelings department. Something needed to change.
My phone sat on the nightstand, and I picked it up. I wished I could call Rachel. Why hadn't I ever told her how I felt about Cooper? Probably the same reason I played off my feelings as a joke to Cooper when it was obvious he didn't like me back-I didn't want to change the friendship dynamic. Our tight-knit group lacked drama, and I didn't want to be the person to single-handedly change that.
I scrolled through my contacts until I stopped on Lacey. I took several deep breaths as I stared at her name. I wasn't one to try too hard with new people. I had my friends, and I was comfortable with them. But I could ride a quad and eat a cricket without the world ending, so why not this? I pushed the button.
She answered quickly. "Hello."
"Hi, it's Abby."
"Abby! Hi. I'm so glad you called! I didn't have your info. You were supposed to text me."
"Yeah, I was going to before the party to get your address."
"I'm so sorry you didn't make the play. It was more about your lack of experience than anything."
"Experience?" I grunted. "That sounds familiar."
"Are you mad? It's not too late. I got the feeling you didn't want a bit part in the ensemble, but I can make a case for you as trombone player number five."
"Oh, no. Don't worry about that at all. We just tried out as an experience. I really don't have time to commit to a full-on production."
"An experience?"
Oh no, had I offended her? "I'm sorry, we wasted your time by showing up when we weren't planning on following through."
She laughed. "No, no worries. What do you mean by an experience though?"
"Long story. I'm trying to gain new perspective to help with my painting."
"Really?"
"It sounds weird, I know."
"No, not at all. I'm just surprised because I do something similar."
"You do?" I sat up in my bed.
"Yes, me and a few of my friends from drama. We force ourselves into new situations to expand our perspectives. It helps with characterization and things, gets us out of our ruts and our normal ways of thinking."
"Yes. Exactly." A feeling of validation made me smile. Every time I talked to Lacey, she surprised me. It felt like we clicked.
"So . . ." Lacey was quiet for a moment. "If you didn't call about the play or the party, was there something else?"
"Oh. No. I was just . . ." Feeling angsty and needed someone who wasn't Cooper to talk to and all my friends are in foreign countries. I couldn't say that. It sounded so . . . self-absorbed. It was. "How is the play going?"