“Excuse me,” Cooper said in a coarse voice, interrupting my thoughts. He wanted to talk, thank God. I looked up at him expectantly to find him staring over the top of my head, at the overhead compartment. “I’ve got to put my bag up.”
Okay, so he didn’t have anything to say to me.
“Sure,” I said. As he reached up to store his duffle bag, I slid down into my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. When he sat next to me a moment later, he immediately pulled a magazine—SURFING, go freaking figure—from his back pocket and began studying it. Something sharp expanded in my throat, the same constriction I always felt right before I bawled my eyes out, and I slouched down.
You know what, Cooper? I don’t give a shit what you think.
Of course that was a big fat lie. I cared—God, I probably cared too much what people thought of me; no matter how much I tried to tell myself I didn’t. So I sat there, stuck beside Cooper in first class, utterly miserable because of what had happened in the airport and the silence that now hung like stale laundry between the two of us.
After two hours of being quiet and avoiding my gaze, Cooper finally sighed and whispered, “You don’t look so good.”
Startled, I looked over at him. His eyes were directed at the window, gazing out into hazy white nothingness. He’d spent the last hour dividing his attention between the window and his magazine, unlike Miller who’d fallen asleep and hadn’t moved an inch, not even when a stewardess bumped a drink cart into the side of his seat.
“Are you going to be okay?” Cooper asked.
“And he speaks,” I said. “Get tired of pretending I don’t exist?”
“Don’t throw up on me, Wills,” he warned, placing his palm flat on the cold glass, and making no effort to acknowledge what I’d said. Ugh, I was glad I hadn’t apologized to him.
I squeezed my eyes closed and counted to three. “I don’t like flying over water,” I said, and Cooper released a low groan and a curse.
“Please tell me you’re not afraid of water.”
If we were on the ground, and if there weren’t still a razor sharp tension cutting through us, I might have said yes. It would have been worth getting a rise out of him. Instead, I shook my head to each side and whispered, “No . . . just being forty thousand feet over it.”
It was the truth. Somewhat. Flying over water had been number three on my list of biggest fears when my rehab counselor had told me to write them out a few months ago. Silence had topped that list, but it was really second—I’d been too afraid to put down number one. Today, I’d faced three of the things that always seemed to shake me apart into a million pieces, and I’d done so un-medicated.
I could do this.
Maybe . . . maybe I wasn’t as weak as I believed.
“Get some rest,” Cooper said, his voice low, his warm breath fanning my ear, the side of my face. Instinctively, I shivered, my neck cricking to the side where I felt him. I hadn’t realized he’d moved away from the window.
“Why?” I said.
“Because you’ll need it when we hit the beach tomorrow.” This time when his lips came close to my skin, I didn’t show a reaction, though I felt it—a deep burn that started in the center of my stomach, unfurling until it completely took me over.
“I’ve worked on a lot less sleep,” I replied, opening my eyes.
“Not with me, Wills. I’m not going to let you fail.”
I snorted. “You get paid regardless of how stupid I look doing this.”
“Who said it has anything to do with money?” he asked. Then, he shifted in his seat—moved away from me—and was quiet again.
***
The plane touched down in Hawaii three hours later, at 7:15 p.m. As we walked to the baggage claim together, with Miller a few steps away, I said jokingly to Cooper, “What? No lei?”
He gave me a look that radiated cockiness. “You’ve got no clue how much I wish there were, Wills.”
I’d walked my ass right into that one. Feeling my face light up in mortification, I glanced down at the slick, polished floor to gather my bearings, as he added, “You’ve got to pay for leis.” I looked up in time to see him pointing at a man holding an armful of flowers and a SALE sign.
“So much for the welcome in the movies, huh?”
“If you want, I’ll give you a lay.”
“I’m sure you will,” I muttered, slowing my stride so that he could walk ahead of me. I fell in beside Miller. He was all business—stony expression and hulking muscles—and glancing his dark eyes around cautiously, though it didn’t seem like anyone was paying us any attention.
We collected our bags without a single camera or phone coming out, much to my relief. Miller went off to a rental car kiosk to pick up the keys for our car, so I followed Cooper out a set of sliding doors, toward the rental car garage. A blast of warm, muggy air hit my face, moistening my skin, and I coughed. Next to me, Cooper pulled out his phone, punching away at the smooth digital keyboard. He still hadn’t mentioned what had happened back in Los Angeles but it was bound to come up at some point during the next several weeks when he bitched about disliking the film industry. What would I even say?
My stomach rolled. I needed to clear the air between us and I needed to do it right now.
“Cooper,” I started, and he lifted his chin a little. “Look, I—”
“I don’t think it’s going to be what you’re used to,” Miller said loudly from behind us. I turned, shoving away my frustration at having been interrupted, as my bodyguard wiggled a set of car keys high in the air.