One Song Away (3 page)

Chapter Four

He’s looking at me with those warm brown eyes, clearly waiting for a response, but my mouth is dry. My hands are trembling and so are my legs. I grab hold of the back of my chair to remain standing. It’s not easy when all I want is to sink into my seat and bury my face in my hands.

“C-c—” I stutter then stop, horrified. “Coop?” When I finally get the old nickname out, I barely have time to wonder how ridiculous I must look and sound before my natural awkwardness kicks into overdrive. “What are you
doing
here?” I don’t even give him a chance before I continue. It’s like I’m standing apart from this scene, watching myself ramble. “I heard you were backpacking through Ireland, or jet-setting through Scotland, or in Canada.”

Jake Cooper watches me make a spectacle of myself, the smile flirting with his kissable lips growing wider and wider. I fall silent, hoping he’ll say something to save me. When he doesn’t, I reach desperately for my coffee cup and sip, then I sneak a look at my childhood partner in crime as I lower my drink.

I must have been too involved in my own misery before to not recognize him immediately. Even though he’s changed over the years, he has the same eyes, the same wonderful smile, and the same way of looking at me, as though he’s amused and glad to see me all at once. I spent night after night thinking of that expression and wishing I could see desire there instead.

“I don’t know that I…what was your word? Jet-setted anywhere,” Jake says, which zeroes my attention on his mouth. With an effort, I tear my gaze away as he laughs. Those
lips
. “But I did do some exploring.”

Even though I haven’t seen him since graduation, I can tell time has been good to him. From the way his sweater fits, I can tell that he has some serious definition going on. He’s lost a few pounds, which makes him look more muscled than I realized he was. It’s a good look on him. If my knees were weak before, they’re Jell-O now. I’m gripping my chair so hard that I’m losing feeling in my fingers.

“Oh well, you know, I heard things…” Waving my hands in front of my face, I desperately hope the inane gesture can rewind this moment, or at least press pause on the nuclear meltdown I’m very obviously having.

Be cool, Wright. Cool. Did you forget how entirely?
It takes everything I have not to groan at myself. I never act this way, no matter how rattled I am. It’s like all the confidence I built in Nashville has vanished, and I know why. This isn’t just some sales clerk or acquaintance. This is Jake—the guy who once meant everything to me.

Jake. Cooper.
Here.
In front of me. The boy who was in every one of my high school daydreams, who caught fireflies with me, and who broke into my ex-boyfriend’s car so I could get my favorite leather jacket back…
here
. Of all the people I imagined running into by moving back home, he was never one. I really
had
heard that he was off seeing the world, and I never knew whether I should be happy or crushed when I didn’t run into him on any visits here.

“So you…heard things, huh?” His expression changes, his eyes dancing. “Any of these ‘things’ include the fact that I missed the
hell
outta you, Claire?”

Truthfully, I figured he forgot about me when I moved. I thought of our friendship as one of those “shooting star” relationships, as Mama calls them. She claims some people are in our lives for a short time, for a purpose, and then no matter how amazing the relationship, they’re gone. I never let myself imagine that I’d see Jake again, and now that I
am…
it’s overwhelming.

“No.” My voice is barely a whisper. “But I missed you, too.”

He gently pulls me forward, and I stop talking. Even though it’s been years since my last Jake hug, I never forgot what they were like, and I give into this one completely. He used to hold me like he couldn’t get close enough, and the same is true now. He tightens the hug, resting his head on top of mine. I don’t let myself think of all the other embraces over the years. I stay right in the here and now. And I can’t help but notice how
easy
this is, all over again. I still fit perfectly against Jake. He feels the same, if more muscular. He even
smells
the same.

Not that I really want him to catch me
smelling
him…

Although I could stay like this all day, something tells me that would definitely get the tongues in this town wagging. I sit down, gesturing to the other seat.

“So you’re home.” His smile is enough to make my heart—which just calmed down—start thudding like crazy again. “Are you staying this time?”

“Yes. I moved back last week.” I take a deep breath, fiddling with my thumb ring. “What about you? Are you just visiting in between whatever it is that you do?” What
is
he doing now? Still seeing the world? Partying every night? Kissing people who aren’t me?

Jake laughs,
really
laughs then. It’s loud, so we draw some stares, but he doesn’t care. He’s like me in that aspect. He’s always gone against the grain, always forged his own path if the existing one was too easy. Neither of us ever wanted easy.

“You haven’t changed at all.” He reaches for my hand. I accidentally forget to pull it away. “I live here. I have for about six months.”

“But what about traveling?”

In this light, he eyes look more golden than brown, and I catch my breath. I know I’ll have to start tempering my reactions to him, but my system is still in shock.

“Claire, I think you have the wrong impression of me. You left right after we graduated so you couldn’t have known, but…” He clears his throat. “I told my parents I wasn’t interested in my trust fund. I wanted to see the world instead of going to college. We had a huge fight, and I left.” He shrugs and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I was a dick, but the time away did me a lot of good.”

“So you’re…
not
rich.” I try to connect the dots in my mind, but he and his brothers were always the town golden boys. Jake never let his family’s wealth determine who he was, but he definitely enjoyed some privileges growing up. I can’t imagine him as working-class. Like
me
.

“Definitely not.” Jake laughs, quietly this time. He studies our hands, as if he’s just realized he’s still holding mine. “It’s a long story, and my parents and I are slowly reconnecting. But no, I’m not rich.” He lets go of my hands and makes a sweeping gesture around Freshly Ground. “I work for a living. You’re looking at my business. Well, mine once all the payments are made.”

“No way.
You
own Freshly Ground?”Some of my normal bravado returns finally, and I’m able to smirk. “What happened to the guy who swore he’d never have a nine-to-five?”

“He grew up.” He winks at me. “Not entirely, but I’ve made a few changes for the better, like I’m sure you have.” He leans back in his seat, slouching a bit. Despite the respectable clothes, the button down underneath his sweater, and his carefully styled hair, I can see a bit of the boy I left behind. “I mean, despite my outward appearance I’m still….”

“Coop? Still the guy who streaked during homecoming our senior year?”

I never thought I’d see a blush on Jake Cooper’s face, but there’s a faint stain of color spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, part of me is still that guy.” Grinning, he rubs the back of his neck while the flush fades. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” I say, suddenly meaning it more than I would have earlier today.

Someone hollers his name and he turns in his chair. Nodding to one of the guys across the coffeehouse, he faces me again. “I’ve got to go take care of some boss things. Will you be here for a while?” I tell him I will. “Okay, great. Tell Sasha at the counter I said anything you want is on the house. I’ll check in with you when I can, because I want to talk to you more.” Another dazzling smile and he’s gone.

Almost physically winded, I reach into my bag for my cell and text Sloane.

Coop is back in town and you didn’t tell me??!! I just ran into him at Freshly Ground, which apparently he owns?!

She texts back barely a minute later.

Shit, I’m so sorry. It totally slipped my mind the other night. Come over tonight and tell me about seeing him. And remember to breathe.

Flipping to a new page in my notebook, I start writing without really thinking about what I’m doing. I let my blond hair fall over my face to hide the heat I can feel in my cheeks. I try not to think about Jake, but I wonder if our meeting impacted him even half as much as it did me. My handwriting isn’t as neat as it normally is because my hands are still shaky. I feel like he might as well have ambushed me with a wrecking ball made up of thoughts and memories I’ve avoided for years.

Eventually, I get a scone and water from Sasha, figuring I don’t need any more caffeine. While I sip my water, I open the book I brought, but after an hour and five chapters, I give up. I stare out the window, people watching. There’s a group of little old ladies sitting on a bench across the street, keeping cool with the old-fashioned fans on sticks. I smile to myself as I realize how little some things have changed in Martinville.

Slowly, I come down from whatever level of awkward I was orbiting earlier. Yes, seeing Jake threw me, but I can do this. I can be around him without getting lost in my memories and my own neurosis. I’m Sophie-Claire Wright. I’m a chameleon. Years of living in Nashville taught me how to be comfortable in any situation, or at least do a damn good job of pretending like I am.

When Jake takes a seat at my table again, I’m almost prepared for the adrenaline rush. I smile at him, hoping it’s friendly but not flirtatious, because I am
not
going back down that road with him. I spent years waiting for him to see me as more than a friend. When he didn’t, it was enough disappointment for a lifetime. I’m not that teenage girl anymore. I
can
be just friends with Jake Cooper.

As long as he doesn’t keep showering me with hugs and those dangerous, lopsided smiles of his. I swear, he must have the patent on them. No one smiles at me like Coop does.
No one.

He’s doing it now, but he isn’t as focused. He’s distracted. Rumpled, as if he’s been running his hands through his hair. His eyes aren’t quite as bright, but when he focuses on me, I feel my heart give an enthusiastic thump.

“So, here we are.”

“Here we are,” I say, then grimace. What am I, a freakin’ parrot? I never have trouble talking to guys, but suddenly, all I can do is echo Jake’s words. So much for being calm and collected.

“I can’t get over this, running into you. You look amazing. It’s incredible to see you, because I was just thinking of you the other day.”

“You look…” Kissable? Drool-worthy? “Great!”
That’s
an understatement. I must let out a small sigh, because he touches the back of my hand. My skin tingles.

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows furrow as he gazes at me. “I know we’re pretty much strangers now, but I want us to get to know each other again. So you can talk to me, if you want.”

Hesitating, I study him. There was a time when we told each other everything, and right now, I want that back. “I’m having trouble finding any job leads. I’ve only been looking for one day so it’s not like I expected to have one already, but I thought I’d get
somewhere
. I have to work to afford an apartment. If I don’t find a job soon, I’ll be stuck living with my parents.”

“Can I see your résumé?” There’s a strange expression on his face.

I hand him a copy, trying not to fidget while he reads. To distract myself, I peek at him. He’s not wearing a ring, so he probably isn’t married. From what I’ve seen of him while I’ve been here, he’s a good boss. I saw him giving orders, but I also saw him stop and smile at a harried cashier, and make what seemed like arrangements to let a church have a bake sale outside the shop. I have all these memories of Jake the boy, but now, I really want to get to know Jake the
man
. He hasn’t told me much about his life yet, but I hope he will.

As for mine, well, he’s just read the abridged version, minus roommate drama, an empty bank account, and a dose of heartache. God, my life really
is
a bad country song.

He’s looking at me with a small smile, and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?” I ask warily.

“You need a job.” He nods after he says it. “I need a barista who can start immediately.”

“And what makes you think
I’m
your girl?” As I realize what I’ve said, I want to choke myself. “I mean, not your
girl girl
, but…um…” I can’t see myself but I know my blush is a giveaway of how I feel. You’d think I’m a redhead as often as I blush.

His dimples appear. “You’re Sophie-Claire Wright. You can do anything you want.” His expression changes. “Come on. As a favor for me.” He reaches for my hand again, and strokes my palm. I don’t know if he’s aware of what he’s doing, but it’s slowly killing me. “Please?”