Tidal (13 page)

shoes. While I found out that I wasn’t

scheduled to do any community service

today, Dave, my boss, took me on a two

hour orientation of the shelter. By the time

we went through our third rotation of the

grounds, I was caught between wanting

desperately to kick off my shoes and

wondering if Cooper had given up on me

and gone home.

I hoped not because I’d stupidly left

my bag and phone sitting on the front seat

of his Jeep.

“So do you think you’ve got a grasp on

what you’ll be doing?” Dave asked.

I nodded. “Kitchen duties.” Cleaning,

serving, and helping unload deliveries, to

be exact. I glanced around the massive

dining room one final time as we shuffled

through it. To be honest, it reminded me of

the one at my court-ordered rehab—

bleach-scented, with three rows of plain,

scuffed wooden tables and chairs, and a

kitchen with a serving window at the front

of the room.

Thinking of rehab brought a swell of

hysteria into my throat, but I gulped it back

because of the group of kids huddled at the

end of the table at the other side of the

room. They were staring at Dave and me,

whispering loudly, and I gave a tiny wave

in their direction.

“It seems you have fans,” Dave said,

as we left the large room. The sound of

excited giggling followed us. “We’ve got

quite a few of your older movies on

DVD.”

Back before you turned into just

another party girl,
I added for him.

“It’s the first time I’ve been

recognized since coming here,” I admitted.

He belly laughed, and walked me

outside to the front of the building.

Cooper’s Jeep was still parked across the

street, thank God. “With your movie about

to start, I’m sure you’ll be recognized

everywhere you turn,” Dave said.

I knew he didn’t mean anything by it,

but my muscles went rigid anyway. “I

can’t wait,” I said in a voice that was

detached.
Robotic.

“Do you have any idea when you’ll be

able to begin working at Harmony

House?” Dave asked.

“Monday,” I answered quickly. I

wanted to knock out my community

service as quickly as possible. And I

wanted something to focus my attention on

other than surfing and work and being

alone. “I’ll have my bodyguard drop me

off after work.”

He looked pleased with my response.

Pumping my hand in his, he said, “We’ll

see you then.” As I walked to the edge of

the sidewalk, he cleared his throat. I

turned, shifting one of my eyebrows up.

“You should probably wear . . . work

clothes.”

I nodded my understanding. “I will.”

When I got into Cooper’s Jeep he cast me

a questioning look. “How do your feet

feel, Wills?”

“Like I could paddleboard all day,

Billabong.”

A grin crept its way across his face,

and his shoulders shook slightly. “Nice,

but I’m cancelling the lesson for today.”

“What—why?”

He raked his hand across his chest,

ruffling the front of the gray Alternative

Apparel shirt he wore. “Because I’ve

been thinking about you too much.”

“You’re getting paid to train me,” I

pointed out.

He paid attention to merging onto the

highway, and the Incubus song playing on

the radio. I crossed my arms over my

chest because I was more interested in

hearing what Cooper had to say than listen

to Brandon Boyd sing about picturing

someone’s face in the back of his mind.

The lyrics were way too close to my own

dilemma with the guy sitting beside me.

When the song ended, and a commercial

for a night club replaced it, Cooper

sighed.

“There’s a forty year old cougar

paying me to train her and I don’t give her

a second thought after our lessons,” he

told me.

“Cooper, I—”

“I’m not going to beg you to be with

me, Wills. I’m not going to chase you or

do any of that. But just know that I want

you, and before you say it—fuck the rule.”

He cast a tight grin in my direction. “Not

that I’ve broken it.”

“You don’t know anything about me,”

I said.
Just like I don’t know anything

about you other than I want to throw

myself at you every time we see one

another,
I thought.

“And I’ve told you before that I don’t

have to know you to want you. Sex

between us would be . . .”

When he didn’t answer, instead

clenching his hands on the steering wheel

and squinting at the road as he struggled to

come up with the perfect word, I was sure

he was thinking the same thing I was.

Amazing.

Shattering.

Catastrophic for my heart.

A moment later we were parked in the

empty driveway of my rental and he turned

off the engine. “Cooper, what exactly do

you want from me?” I asked. He offered

me a strained look that made my chest

ache and my throat tighten.

“Nothing. Dammit, everything. I

needed to get it out there, Wills—how I’m

feeling about you. Yeah, I’m your coach

but I’m also a guy and you’re digging your

way under my skin.” He laid his head

back on the leather rest, lifting his chin

and squeezing his eyes together. Before I

could stop myself, I was out of my

seatbelt, pressing my lips to the column of

his throat. He groaned. “Don’t. Fucking.

Tease.”

“I’m trying to spend this summer

focusing on my career,” I whispered, and

Cooper opened his blue eyes to take me

in. He brushed strands of my hair back

from my face. “I just got out of rehab and

I’m not—”

“I get it.”

“You don’t,” I said firmly. “I don’t

like being attracted to you. And if you

think I’m getting under your skin, just

imagine what you’re doing to me. I

haven’t . . . I’ve not been in a relationship

in a long time, Cooper. But here you are

and you scare the shit out of me.”

A look of understanding and then pity

entered his eyes. A deep burn scorched its

way through my stomach, up to my chest,

and I reached for the door handle. He

closed his hand around my wrist, jerking

me back to him.

“Somebody fucking hurt you,” he said

in a dangerous voice.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Why does it matter? You going to

break his legs with a surfboard?” I

demanded, but when Cooper pressed his

lips together determinedly, I heaved a

sigh. “Tyler Leonard.” Even now, three

years later, my voice cracked whenever I

said his name. I didn’t watch his movies. I

pretended not to notice whenever his

picture made the cover of
US Weekly
.

And yet I still couldn’t let him go.

“The actor?” Cooper asked.

I nodded, using every acting chop

within me to hide the disappointment. “We

met during filming.”
Into the Dark
. My

first and only horror movie and my last

successful film before my fall.

“He’s what—ten years older than you?

What did you have a crush on him and he

turned you down?” Cooper’s voice was

hopeful, and for a second, I thought about

giving him what he wanted to hear but then

I gripped my free hand into the fabric of

my dress.

“When you’re in Hollywood, you’ve

got all these people who think that you’re

so fucked up, that you’re so jaded, even

when you’re just a kid, you know? But I

wasn’t back then. I mean, yeah, I went to

parties with my friends, but I hadn’t . . .”

“He was your first.” When I didn’t

answer, he growled a curse. “And that’s

what started . . .”

The drugs.

“No. And yes. Part of it was what had

happened between me and him. And part

of it was just myself.” I’d wanted a

permanent anesthesia to numb away the

short memories of what I’d given up.

“Willow,” Cooper said, dropping his

fingers from around my wrist so he could

rake his hands through his blonde hair.

Anxiety pulsed through my veins again,

but this time, instead of making a run for

it, I pulled him close to me, dragging his

lips down on mine to hush out any more

pity.

I knew that the center console was

jabbing into the small of my back—that

the top of my head was shoved up against

the Jeep door handle—yet all I could feel

were Cooper’s fingertips cupping my face

and caressing my skin. His lips on my

mouth.

Every hard line of his body on top of

my own.

“Wills, don’t do this if—” He started

to pull away, but I shook my head and

wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling

him into me. As his tongue parted my lips

and his hand squeezed my breast, I

skimmed my fingers beneath the top of his

gray t-shirt. My hand brushed over the

scar on his shoulder, and he shivered.

He pulled back and the light filtering

around him made him seem so ethereal my

head spun. “Why are you doing this?” he

demanded in a low voice against my

mouth.

You take the nightmares away, I

wanted to tell him. Because I don’t

fucking know you but when I’m with you, I

want to feel again. I don’t need pills or

noise or a distraction.

Instead, I whispered, “Because you

said you’d always look after me.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not

going to take advantage of you.”

“Because of what I told you about

Tyler.”

“Because you’re using me to flush him

out of your system. When you come to me,

when we do this, I want it to be because

you’re thinking about me. Not some

perverted shit who fucked you over when

you were a kid.”

I straightened, smoothing my dress and

keeping my eyes wide so I wouldn’t cry. I

refused to. “You sound like a movie,” I

said in a thick voice.

He raked his hands through his hair,

and held it back for a long moment before

releasing it. Then he gave me a long, hard,

unnerving stare. “Good. Guess sometimes

Hollywood does make sense.”

“I’m going in now, Cooper,

He didn’t argue or beg, but he’d said

that much himself. He wasn’t going to

chase me. Before I reached the front door

to the rental house, his Jeep was halfway

up the street.

***

slow, but full of dreams that rocked me so

hard, I woke up screaming. The first one,

Saturday night, Miller had come bolting

down the stairs, barging in with the spare

set of keys to find me hunched over the

toilet.

“I’m fine . . . just go away,” I’d

muttered, placing the side of my cheek on

the cool surface of the tile floor. But when

I came out of the bathroom to get a drink

of water, I’d found him sitting on the

brown suede couch, with his elbows

rested against his thighs.

“I said I’m fine,” I said, clenching my

hands and he’d glanced up at me, his eyes

tired and full of worry.

It was weird to see someone as tall

and muscled as Miller look so helpless,

but he did. “You’re . . .
sure
?” And I

knew what he was implying. He wanted to

know if I was high. Sighing, I sat down

next to him.

Drying the dampness from my face

with the back of my hand, I’d nodded. “I

swear I am.”

But I wasn’t. Because the entire time

I’d had my head in the bowl, I was trying

to remember Eric’s father’s name. The

resident lazy, pill-dealing douchebag, Eric

had called him on the day we first met.

But as I vomited, I didn’t care what he

was—only that he had something to help

me.

It wasn’t until today—the ass crack of

dawn on Tuesday morning—that I was

reminded of what his name was as Cooper

and I moved, side by side, sitting on our

boards with our legs stretched out in front

of us, as we paddled through the flat

water.

“Where’s Eric at?” I asked. He hadn’t

been around yesterday and his truck

wasn’t in the driveway when Miller

dropped me off earlier.

“Someone broke into Rick’s house, so

he’s been trying to help him find a new

place.”

Rick. If I had remembered that a

couple nights ago what would have

happened? Would I even be here now or

catatonic, watching my world float by in

slow motion?

“Oh,” I said, switching my oar to the

other side and flexing my foot. There was

a cramp running up the side of my leg, and

I wanted to straddle the board, but every

time I did that Cooper shook his head. He

claimed it was because it would take us

forever to get where we were going, but I

swore it was because he wanted to torture