Or maybe I’d never tell Cooper about Mr. Wallace. The denial thing was working out okay too.
I had put on my nicest sundress, pulled my bleached-by-the-sun hair into a loose braid, and put on makeup, even though I rarely wore more than a swipe of mascara in the summer. It was too hot for more than that.
Cooper’s mom kissed my cheek when I arrived at the table, and his sister patted the empty chair in between her and Cooper.
“I love it when you dress up for my parents,” Cooper whispered when I sat down.
“Shut up,” I mumbled back.
Cooper wore shorts and a faded blue T-shirt that made his eyes look even bluer. His skin was bronzed to a perfect tan from all his time outside. His blond hair, still slightly damp from his recent shower, curled up on the ends. Yes, he was still as adorable as ever. I scolded myself for noticing, then opened my menu and looked over the options.
I was so busy trying to distract myself from Cooper’s cuteness by burying myself in my menu that I didn’t notice someone was standing over me until I heard a “Hey, Abby.”
I looked up and saw a guy I recognized from school—Elliot Garcia. “Hi. I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Just for the summer,” he said.
“Awesome.”
“Hi,” Cooper said to Elliot. “Why don’t I know you?”
I punched his shoulder. “You don’t know everyone in the world.”
“You know what I mean,” he said. I did. Cooper and I knew the same people, and they knew us. It was Cooper, Abby, Justin, and Rachel. Or Rachel, Cooper, Justin, and Abby. Whatever the order, usually people didn’t know one of us without knowing the others. But we did have separate classes, so occasionally, like with Elliot, I knew people they didn’t and vice versa.
“I know of you,” Elliot said. “You’re Cooper Wells. We’ve just never met before.”
“Now we have,” Cooper said.
I analyzed the two of them as they spoke. Elliot was cute, but in the nearly exact opposite way as Cooper. Where Cooper’s eyes were blue, Elliot’s were brown. Cooper’s hair blond, Elliot’s curls were nearly black. Cooper was tall and muscular, Elliot was lean and an average height. The differences were so noticeable seeing them side by side like this.
“I think we’re ready to order,” Mr. Wells said, pulling my attention back to the moment.
Elliot straightened up. “Oh, your waiter will be right here. I’m just a host. I’ll grab you some waters.” He smiled at me. “I’ll be right back.”
As he walked away, Cooper said, “You should take Abby out.”
I gasped.
Elliot turned back. “What?”
“Nothing. Ignore him,” I said. Cooper fancied himself a matchmaker at times. He was not good at it.
Once Elliot left the table I shot Cooper my meanest look.
“Sorry,” he said. “But that guy has a crush on you. It was obvious. I was trying to help him out.”
“You can never just let me do my own flirting, can you?”
“Were you going to flirt? Because it was looking pretty questionable.”
I wasn’t going to flirt. I had no interest in Elliot or any other guy right now. I had just gotten horrible news about my art and my heart still picked up speed when Cooper smiled at me. I was not in the proper emotional place to be dating.
I ignored Cooper’s super-sarcastic question by asking a question of my own. “Have you heard from Justin?”
He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of a halfway-finished stone wall. “Did he send you this text?”
“No. Why is he not sending me texts?” I read the words he had sent with the picture. Working on a schoolhouse for the local children. I could picture Justin there, speaking Spanish, the language he spoke all the time at home, and playing with the kids.
I pulled out my own phone and sent a text to Justin. Where are my update pics, punk?
“Ah. I’m sure that will inspire immediate obedience,” Cooper said, reading over my shoulder.
“I’ll be equally happy with obedience or guilt.”
Cooper chuckled.
Elliot came back with our waters, followed by the waiter, who took our orders.
“How is your art going?” Mr. Wells asked from across the table as soon as the waiter left.
“It’s good.”
“Will you paint something for me?” Cooper’s sister asked.
“Of course,” I said at the same time his mom said, “No, that’s not polite to ask, Amelia.”
“Why not?” Amelia asked.
“Because Abby doesn’t have time for that.”
“It’s true, Amelia,” Cooper said, reaching behind me to tug on his sister’s hair. “Abby wants to paint five brand-new pieces for an art show she’s going to be a part of in six weeks.”
“No, I don’t,” I said.
“Yes, that’s what you said to me. You said none of the pieces you already had were good enough.”
“They aren’t,” I said. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
“I completely disagree. They’re amazing. But whatever, you’re stubborn, so you’ll paint new ones.”
“I won’t,” I said.
“So are you going to use some you already painted? Which ones?”
“No.”
Now he was confused. I could tell. “You can’t both paint and not paint,” he said.
“There is no show.”
“He canceled it?”
“For me. There is no show for me.”
“I thought he was considering. He’ll say yes.”
“He said no.”
“Oh.” His smile immediately slid off his face.
“Yeah. But whatever, it’s not a big deal. I’ll find another show.” I could feel my cheeks go hot and I wanted to move on as fast as possible. I pulled my water glass close and took a long drink.
His parents looked at each other and then back at me. One of them was about to ask a follow-up question to clarify what I meant. Or say something like, but it is a big deal, or but your work should be in the show. His dad even cleared his throat, getting ready for whatever was coming next. I knew if he said one more word about it I’d break down in tears before the sentence was through. The tears were already threatening, clinging to the backs of my eyes, causing them to sting.
That’s when Cooper said, “You’re right, it’s not a big deal.” He squeezed my knee once, under the table, then dropped his hand. “Tell me I wasn’t awesome today out there on the dunes?”
His sister took the bait first, probably realizing as much as Cooper did that I needed a subject change. “You caught air on that back jump.”
His parents were a little slower to let go, his mom meeting my eyes and holding them before turning her attention to Cooper. “Yes, we are here to celebrate your amazing race. Let’s celebrate.”
By the time the waiter came back with our food, everyone had moved way past my failure and was well into celebrating Cooper’s success. I was grateful Cooper knew that was exactly what I needed.
“Abby’s going to bring me home,” Cooper said at the end of dinner, when the bill was paid and we’d all stood to leave.
“I am?” I asked. I really just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. I’d managed to push the thoughts of Mr. Wallace and the art show to the back of my mind (or at least the middle of it) for the last couple of days, but admitting the truth out loud had brought them flying back. What he’d said, and what, through all my anger and denial, I knew I believed.
“Yes, you are.”
“Be back by curfew,” his dad said, then took his wife by one hand and his daughter by the other and headed out of the restaurant.
“Cooper, I’m tired. Can we just talk tomorrow?” I asked when they were halfway to the door.
“Nope. You have to talk now. I can tell it’s bothering you. Come on.” He led the way toward the exit.
“Of course it’s bothering me, but I’m fine. I’ll get over it. Let’s get cheesecake instead.” I stopped at the lit glass case and surveyed all the beautifully displayed cake.
Cooper stopped beside me. “It looks like they don’t have white chocolate raspberry.”
“Maybe I want to try a new one.”
“You never try something different. Once you find the best, that’s all you ever want.”
“So true, Cooper, so true.”
He gave me a sideways glance, like he thought I was talking about something other than cheesecake. I was.
He shook his head with a breathy laugh, grabbed hold of my hand, and led me outside. His hand was warm and slightly callused, and I always thought it fit perfectly in mine. My car was parked in front of the restaurant, but he walked past it and toward the pier. He must’ve realized I was going to follow him without force, because he let go of my hand, much to my disappointment.
After a block and a half he said, “I got something for you.”
“You did? What?” Without my permission, my heartbeat sped up.
He pulled a white napkin out of his pocket and handed it to me. There was a phone number written on it. I swallowed my disappointment.
“I already have your number,” I said.
“Ha-ha. That is Elliot’s number. You’re welcome.”
“You still think you’re some sort of matchmaker?”
“I’m an excellent matchmaker.”
“Elliot gave me his number six months ago, but thanks anyway.” I knew Elliot had been interested back then. I’d kind of blown him off, exchanging a few texts but nothing more. I shoved the napkin back into Cooper’s pocket, then walked ahead of him. The planks on the pier were warped and I had to slow down once I got there so I didn’t trip.
Cooper caught up. “Did you ever call him?”
“We texted a little. I’m not interested, Cooper.”
“Did you ever tell me about this?”
“I’m sure I did.”
“Huh,” he said.
When we reached the end of the pier, I leaned against the wood railing and looked out into the water. At first glance, the ocean appeared black at night, but between the skyline and the shoreline there were so many variations of color and movement that it always made me itch for a paintbrush.
“Talk to me, Abigail. I hate it when you get inside your head. What happened? You said Mr. Wallace was considering you. What did he really say?”
“That I have no heart.”
“He said you were an android?”
I draped my arms on top of the railing and laid my forehead on them with a moan. The smell of salt and fish and seaweed overtook me.
Cooper rubbed my back. “He said you have no heart? What does that even mean?”
“He said I have no depth. That my paintings are basically one-dimensional. They don’t make him feel anything.”
“Oh. So he’s an android. Got it.”
I buried my head deeper in my arms.
“But seriously, he obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
But doesn’t he? I wanted to say. You feel the same way. You’re missing that piece when you look at me too. The piece that makes you feel something.
I turned my head sideways and looked at Cooper. “I have an agoraphobic mom and a war-zone dad.” And I couldn’t forget the unrequited-love thing I had going on. “How much deeper can a person get?”
“Not much.” Cooper chuckled, a sound that made my heart thump hard in my chest.
I groaned again and reburied my head. Several waves crashed against the supports below before he spoke.
“Your mom isn’t agoraphobic.”
“I know. But it seems as though she’s studying really hard to become one. She’s getting worse.”
“Worse how?”
“She used to at least go out. Leave the house. I can’t remember the last time she did that. She needs friends. That always seemed to help her before we moved here.”
“I can probably get my mom to ask her out to lunch.”
I didn’t need to say anything, just stared at him until he realized that was a ridiculous suggestion.
“You’re right,” he said. “They aren’t a good match.”
“It’s fine. She’ll be fine when my dad gets home in August.”
“Your dad gets home in August?”
I smiled at that thought. It was right around the corner. “Yes, I can’t wait. But he’ll miss the show. I mean, he would have missed the show. Now it doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe you misunderstood Mr. Wallace.”
“Nope. He was straightforward. Very. He actually used all the words I told you. No emotion, no depth, no heart. All of them.”
“That’s harsh.”
It was harsh. Being an artist defined me. It was the one thing I felt I was good at. The one thing I thought people, and Cooper, admired me for. And now I didn’t even have that. The tears I’d managed to control at the restaurant threatened to spill down my face.
“It’s just one person’s opinion, Abby.”
“He has a doctorate in art. He is a museum curator. And he is the only person close that can show my art. I needed this experience.” The lump in my throat was growing by the second, and I kept having to swallow it down.
“What about another museum? Or gallery?”
“I’ve been looking. It’s a long shot. Hundreds of people apply for shows. I thought I had an in with Mr. Wallace. But if he doesn’t like my art, you really think some stranger is going to take a chance on me?”
“Don’t let him get in your head.”
“He’s already there.” With those words the tears escaped, much to my frustration. I swiped at them angrily.
Cooper pulled me into a hug. “Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry. It makes me want to beat people up.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will be. And you’ll figure out a way to prove him wrong.” Cooper’s hand went up and down my back and I melted further against him.
As comforting as Cooper’s words were, I wasn’t sure I would figure out a way to prove Mr. Wallace wrong. I wasn’t great at changing people’s feelings.