Somewhere

Chapter One

There were two Coopers that night.

Only the giant bonfire keeping us apart. The wood crackled as the fire's tail whipped back and forth. He was painted by the warm orange glow like a burning sunset and I forgot everything my mother taught me about not staring directly into the sun. A shiver ran down my spine, warning me that I was doing something wrong. The same way instinct discouraged me from sticking my hand in that fire.

And yet, I had an out of body experience seeing the Cooper I remembered.

The Cooper from five years ago, throwing his lopsided smile around. It was a promise of mischief. If that Cooper offered me his hand, I would have been a fool not to accept it. Now, at twenty, I was a fool if I did.

His prepubescent voice rang in my ears, taunting me. "What are you so afraid of Sam?"

I wish I knew.

"Who invited him?" Gibson shouted over the music pulsing through the open field. We were surrounded by the woods next to the abandoned Hannigan farm. The corn fields had dried up, revived and replaced by loads of wasted young adults.

I'd like to say we were partying for a reason. That our football team won some big game or that it was somebody's birthday, but no. This town didn't need a reason to roll out the kegs. The sixth drunk person just rammed into me because after a couple of beers, no one had control over their bodies. Gibson caught me and kept me steady by my shoulder. In the same motion, Gibson took a greedy swig of his red solo cup.

Still, I stared at Cooper. I would not fold first.

"He looks so out of place," Gibson said.

"I didn't think he had friends on this side of town," I said, noting Cooper's pea coat and his crisp button up and the pair of oxfords that could have paid for all my textbooks this semester. People avoided him like he reeked of outsider.

This side of town was pastures and woods. This side came with farmer's markets, static radio and greasy diners that sold breakfast twenty-four hours a day. With a clear look of the moon and the stars. This side had loud secret parties in abandoned fields, surrounded by lanterns and red solo cups. No black ties in sight. Cooper's side was all boutiques and museums. It was full of restaurants that laughed you right out of the place if you tried to walk in wearing a pair of sneakers. He was the night life. Neon instead of starlight.

"Looks like his friends came with him," Gibson added, like we were documenting the rare sighting of a higher form of species. Look at the rare Cooper Blackwood, his exquisite slicked back blonde hair and sharp cheek bones. He had a resting glare on his face. Maybe he was nauseated by the expensive blood flowing through his veins. Lucinda Queen stood with him, her spirals of black hair and skin like midnight. There were stars wrapped around her elegant long neck. Bash Harper stood nearly seven feet tall in tailor made clothes and a deep stare that kept anyone from questioning him. He was the only wall of defense they needed.

Lucinda whispered into Cooper's ear, a smile dragging her red lips up her cheeks. He smiled back and his attention was yanked from under my feet. I fell flat on my back, getting the wind knocked right out of me. My chest pulled, towards the fire as if I'd survive another burn. I'd do anything for him to turn back around and look at me. I had spent the last five years waiting to tell him off and yet, here I was, fighting for his attention.

This was ridiculous.

I took a swig of my drink.

Swallowing my disappointment, I smiled at Gibson. I was acting like a dopey fifteen-year-old again. After five years, I had changed. I had to believe I changed, or I was gonna go nuts.