CHAPTER 15
1094 Words
"Sweetheart, it's for you," Cooper's mom called, peeking her head around the corner
of the living room. She gestured toward the front door.
A jolt of fear went through his body. His first and most irrational thought was that
Calla had come for him. She'd finally realized he was a liability. A loose end to be
tied and then violently cut.
My secrets are far more dangerous than yours.
He shook his head at his mom, who stared back at him quizzically.
Maybe she's like a vampire, he thought, trying not to hyperventilate. She can't cross
the threshold unless we let her in.
"It's Vincent," his mom clarified, her pretty green eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Who
did you think it was?"
Relief took the place of his growing panic. He let out a heavy sigh and stood,
hurrying past her. "No one. Nothing. I don't know."
He couldn't seem to string more than three coherent words together. His headache
felt like it was splitting his skull in two. Courtesy of Jacob Stein, resident asshole.
His mom's incessant questions didn't help. But he wouldn't dare tell her that.
Cooper was already on thin ice with her after refusing to say who had left him with a
black eye, a split lip, and bruises the size of Texas along his ribcage.
Cooper grimaced when he saw who stood outside their front door. Vincent glared
at him, his gym bag in one hand and a stack of DVDs in the other.
The sight of the DVDs gave Cooper hope—a hope that was quickly dashed when
Vincent opened his mouth.
"You get your ass kicked by Jacob Stein and I'm the last person in school to hear
about it?"
"Language!"
The voice from the kitchen made both boys cringe. Vincent's anger vaporized.
"Sorry, Mrs. A."
Cooper's mom gave them the side eye from where she stood in the pantry door, her
blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail. She kept any additional commentary to
herself.
Cooper looked back at Vincent and shrugged. The movement made a bruise on the
side of his arm throb. "You've got a big game coming up next Friday. I'm not about
to get you benched."
Vincent frowned at the mention of the rivalry game. "Do you seriously think I care about that? Oh, you just wait 'til I get a hold of that..." His eyes drifted over
Cooper's shoulder and into the kitchen. "That... turd . Jacob's a dead man walking."
Cooper had to fight back laughter. Well over six feet tall, and Vincent had been
cowed by a woman whose head barely brushed his chest. "It's really not that
serious."
"Really? Have you even bothered to look in the mirror lately?"
Cooper resisted the urge to catch his reflection in the array of entryway mirrors his
mom had plastered by the front door. "Are you going to come in or not?"
Vincent ambled inside, still unhappy. "I should really kick his butt, you know."
"Yes." Cooper sighed, closing the door. "But if you swoop in and do the whole prince
charming riding in on his white horse act, I'll never recover. Social suicide, man."
"You're already wanted for murder. Could it really get worse?"
My secrets are far more dangerous than yours. Don't threaten me, Daniels.
Yes. As a matter of fact, it could get worse. Cooper opened his mouth to say so, but
he couldn't find the words.
His mom, on the other hand, had plenty to say on the subject. "We don't use the M word in this household, young man," she chided Vincent, putting a pot of water on
the stove.
Vincent frowned as he set down his gym bag. "The M word?"
" Murder ," Cooper whispered loudly. "It's a touchy subject. We're denying my true
nature. Haven't you heard? I'm the next Ted Bundy."
"Movie time!" Vincent saved him before his mom could interject with some sharp
comment about his not being funny. He held up the movie rentals. "Action. Comedy.
Pick your poison."
Cooper snatched the middle disk from Vincent's giant hand. He balanced it between
his thumb and index finger. "This one."
"Excellent choice."
"You have absolutely no idea which one I picked, do you?"
"Nope." He grinned, his eyes lighting up in the same way they usually did right
before he delivered bad news. "By the way. I come bearing good tidings."
Definitely bad news.
"Good tidings?" Cooper followed Vincent into the living room, where he plopped
down on the couch, completely at home. "You're lying."
"You hungry, honey bees?" his mom asked, shooting them both a look from over the
counter.
"Starving." Vincent perked up as she dumped out a box of pasta. "What's good?"
"In this apartment? Everything." She flashed him a grin. "Give me twenty minutes.
You boys go ahead and put on that movie."
"What's this about good tidings?" Cooper asked again, shoving the disc into their
prehistoric DVD player. He fell on the opposite end of the couch from Vincent, his
eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Vincent settled into the cushions. He seemed far too pleased with himself for
Cooper's liking. "Calla. And Rachel."
"Calla," Cooper repeated, his blood running cold.
Bad news. Why does it always have to be bad news with you, Vincent?
"And Rachel," Vincent added, grinning at him as if this rectified the whole matter. He
lowered his voice. "She thinks you're cute."
"She thinks I'm what?" He nearly choked on his own spit. He coughed, wincing as his
bruises throbbed.
"Yup," Vincent popped his lip on the p. "Told you. Good news."
Cooper rubbed his temples, trying to process what his best friend was telling him.
Rachel Smith thought he was cute? It was more than Cooper had ever hoped for.
And yet...
"How do you know?" he asked, his paranoia making itself known.
"Don't freak."
"If you preface something with don't freak, then I should probably freak. What did
you do?"
Vincent picked at an invisible crumb on his sweatpants. He refused to look at
Cooper. "I sort of cornered Calla at school. We got to talking."
"Vincent," Cooper hissed, more angry than he had a right to be.
"You two used to be close," he argued, fighting to keep his voice low. "She's pretty
chill, man. And funny. Whatever happened between you guys, it's all water under the
bridge to her."
Of course. Cooper had no doubt in his mind that Calla wanted to put the past
behind her. Especially if it meant she would get away with murder.
- Writer
