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We play this game for thirty or so more seconds, me tickling Cooper, her moaning and groaning, and me adding in my own sound effects where I see fit, until we’re both on the verge of breathless and, much like I predicted, the party outside clearly seems to have gotten bored, the normal hum of scattered mingling and music returning.

Cooper shoves me away once and for all, and I let her, holding my hands up in defeat.

“Satisfied?” she demands.

“Not at all,” I reply. “But I’d say they are.”

“Well, I guess that’s all that matters then,” she quips.

“Isn’t it?” I ask.

She blows out a frustrated breath. “Whatdid I say about enclosed spaces?”

“You say a lot of things, Cooper. Especially complaints and demands. It’s hard to keep up at times.”

I can sense her pacing in front of me. “One closet per week with you is more than enough for me.”

“Oh, so you want to make this a regular thing?” I ask. “What time in your little red diary do you want to pencil me in for next week?”

She stops pacing. I don’t know how I know. I guess I can just feel it. “It’s not a diary,” she says. “Or anagendafor that matter.”

“What is it then?”

“What itisis none of your business,” she snaps.

“What’s the big deal–”

“Let it go.”

I let out a scoff. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Cooper echoes me.

We each step backwards, getting as far apart as two people in one small closet can get from each other. A few seconds go by, and I hear what sounds like Cooper sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. I wait a few seconds, and then do the same, not wanting her to think I did it just because she did because I’m in an immature mood apparently. She huffs out a breath anyways.

We stay quiet for a little bit, and let me tell you, silence in pure darkness seems significantly longer and is much more painful. I try to look at my watch to check how much time we have left, then shake my head at myself, remembering that it’s dark and I can’t.

I’m about to break. I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without speaking in my life. But surprisingly, I don’t have to. Cooper breaks first.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says, an odd tone to her voice that I can’t place.

“Knock yourself out, Cooper.”

“Why do you even like Denise?”

My mouth falls open, and I’m suddenly thankful we’re sitting in the dark. “What do you mean?” I ask her.

“She’s kinda awful.”

I snort, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Yeah, and you’re a total walk in the park, Cooper.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, and I find myself swallowing, my throat tight all of the sudden. “Just forget it,” she finally says.

“No, no,” I say, shaking my head. “Look, I…I don’t know. I just do.”

“You just…do?”

“Yeah,” I nod to myself. “I mean, I know she’s not always the most pleasant person to be around. She has basically no filter and is a little full of herself–”