Finding London, Ellie Wade [different e readers txt] 📗

present time, Dumb-Ass. “I’m really not in the mood to go out tonight.”

“When are you? If we based our decisions on when you were in the mood to go out, we’d be hermits.” Cooper shakes his head and hits me on the back as I pass. “You’ll have fun. You always do.”

I quirk my eyebrow up, looking over to him with a scowl. “I do?”

He laughs. “Yeah, of course, man. You just don’t realize it.”

Cooper is the only person in the world whose shit I’d put up with. He’s more like a brother than just a friend. He’s family—my only family.

I joined the Army on my eighteenth birthday and met Cooper during basic training at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri. Our cots were right next to each other. I’ll never forget Cooper’s incessant talking. He yammered on about this or that at any chance he got. I completely ignored him for the first week.

I remember wondering, Who does this kid think he is? And, for God’s sake, can’t he take a hint? Who holds a one-sided conversation for an entire week?

David Cooper, the skinny kid from the outskirts of Detroit, Michigan—that’s who.

I was a loner, had been for a long time. I didn’t want or need relationships, but Cooper changed that. I found myself looking forward to our chats even if my responses were only in my head. Then, one night, I answered him out loud. Cooper didn’t even miss a beat. He just kept the conversation going, as if I had always participated. And, since that night, I have—for the most part.

After basic training, we followed the same path, going to Fort Knox for AIT—Advanced Individual Training—then Fort Sill, and finally Iraq. After six years of active duty in the Army, we got jobs in a Special Forces unit with the National Guard in Ypsilanti, the city directly east of Ann Arbor. We have drill once a month and a two-week-long annual training, but other than that, we’re stationed here in Ypsilanti. Our unit is up for deployment at the end of the year, so we’ll be going somewhere else soon—at least for a little while.

Cooper convinced me that settling here, with this unit, was the route to go. I now know that, on one of his leaves home, he hooked up with his high school crush, Maggie, and fell hard. So, now, the three of us are playing house in the modest home we rent in Ypsilanti. I tried to move out into my own place, but Cooper insisted that I stay. I will for a bit, but once he proposes marriage and babies come, I’m out.

When we get home, Maggie is blaring music and dancing in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Her face lights up when she sees us. “My boys!” she yells over the racket.

Cooper pulls her into an embrace, locking his lips with hers. I turn my attention to the stack of mail on the table and try to block out the smacking noises.

“Loïc,” Maggie squeals my name. “Thanks for going out with us tonight.” She hugs me from behind.

I tap my hand against hers that are splayed across my stomach. “You’re welcome, Mags.”

She lets go.

“I’m gonna go shower,” I say.

I suppose, as far as female roommates go, Maggie is the best I could hope for. Cooper’s a lucky man. Maggie’s awesome. And I lied when I said that Cooper was my only family because Maggie is, too.

After my shower, I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and then I make my way toward the laughter in the living room. Cooper is sitting on the couch, freshly showered and ready to go. He and Maggie are cracking up over something.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Berkeley, man…we were just talking about you.” Cooper calls me by my last name as well.

“Oh, yeah? What about?”

Maggie chimes in, “Remember that time we went out and that stage-five clinger would not leave you alone?”

“The redhead?”

“Yep,” Cooper confirms. “The one who was as hot as she was crazy.”

“Hey.” Maggie hits him in the stomach with a disapproving look.

“Babe, you know she was hot but not as gorgeous as you. No one is.” He smiles sweetly at her before kissing her on her temple.

“Aw, thanks, baby,” Maggie addresses Cooper before turning her attention to me. “Remember how she wouldn’t leave you alone, no matter what we did?”

I roll my eyes. “How could I forget?”

I think back to the night that I just wanted to spend with Cooper and Maggie, and this chick wouldn’t leave. She was so brazen, too. At one point, underneath the table, she grabbed my dick outside of my jeans.

I shake my head and chuckle. “Oh, the beer.”

“I know! That’s what we were just talking about!” Maggie laughs.

Cooper accidentally spilled his beer on this chick’s shirt because he was so sick of her hanging around our table. Yet, instead of leaving, she simply took off her tank top, leaving her upper half in only her lacy red bra. She claimed that the bra could double as a shirt.

“After all, girls wear tube tops all the time,” was her reasoning.

“You’re like a magnet for crazy chicks,” Cooper states with a chuckle.

“It’s because he’s so damn hot,” Maggie says.

Cooper whips his head to the side and gives her an accusatory stare.

“Not hotter than you, baby, but the girls know you’re taken.”

“Damn straight,” Cooper answers.

Maggie has a point in that clingy girls tend to find me and have a difficult time in letting go of me. I’m not a prude when it comes to hook-ups. Depending on my mood, I’m game for a night with a hottie in my bed, just as any other twenty-five-year-old guy would be. But, when a girl has a certain look in her eyes, I stay away at all costs. When her eyes are screaming more, I run.

I don’t do relationships. I never have, and I’m not sure I ever will. It’s just not me. I know what it feels like to be heartbroken, and I don’t want to make someone else feel that way. So, if I get the vibe that the girl is looking for more than just a night, I steer clear.

The three of us hang out, chatting and laughing at one story after the next, while Cooper and Maggie have a few beers. I’m always the DD, and that works for me since I don’t drink. I have no judgments toward people who do, but I decided a long time ago that it wasn’t something I would do.

Growing up, I lived with a heavy drinker for a period—three years, to be exact. It was not only the longest I was ever placed with someone, but it was also, by far, the most difficult time of my life. At the age of seven, I learned what alcohol could turn some people into. I know it wouldn’t have the same effect on me—I would never allow that—but getting drunk and losing myself has never interested me. Not only can the smell of liquor take me back to that very dark time, but the thought of losing any of my control is also terrifying. I need power over my life, my actions, in order to function.

So, of course, I picked the one profession where I have none. When the military gives you an order, you do it. No discussions. No questions. No choice. But, I suppose, where my job is concerned, having no control is actually calming in a way.

“You guys ready?” I ask Maggie and Cooper.

All the way to Ann Arbor, Maggie rambles on about the band we’re about to see. I’ve never heard of them, but apparently, they are DJs with a techno flair. According to Maggie, that means they play a lot of covers of popular songs, but they spice them up a bit. Should be interesting.

I park in the parking garage, and we walk across the street to the club. Every time the bouncer opens the door to let someone in, the loud music escapes, sending steady beats of bass down the street.

The second we step foot into the club, Maggie is bouncing up and down, giddy with excitement. The place is packed. As we weave our way through the crowded space, I notice how each person seems to be holding or wearing something that glows in bright neon. Glow-stick bracelets, necklaces, headbands, and belts are apparently all the rage.

A smile crosses my face as we pass some chick laughing hysterically while she repeatedly hits some guy on the head with a foam glow sword. The ten-dollar cover was worth it just for the show the audience is bringing. Being the sober one is where it’s at.

Near the back, we find a space large enough for the three of us to stand comfortably. Cooper says something to Maggie, eliciting a nod from her, before he heads in the direction of the bar.

Maggie is raising her hands in the air and swaying to the music as she shouts out the lyrics. Cooper returns and hands me a Coke.

“Thanks, man!” I yell over the music.

He nods toward me with a smile and wraps his arms around Maggie from behind. The two of them start dancing together without missing a beat. If I were honest with myself, I’d have to admit that I envy the relationship they share. Knowing them both as well as I do, I believe, without a doubt, that neither one would ever hurt the other. They are in it for the long haul. A tiny longing resonates within me. A small hope that I could find that sort of connection with someone enters my mind before I immediately shut it down. I’ve learned that any amount of hope, no matter how small, is dangerous.

Something pulls my attention toward the front of the club. My eyes scan the area—searching for what, I don’t know. Yet it’s there—a feeling, a presence, a whisper—and I can’t ignore it.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out what I’ve been looking for. There she is, like a beacon sending a signal meant for me. My hand grips tightly to the cool glass containing the iced pop, my thumb slipping across the condensation. The beverage begins to fall from my hand before I reposition my hold. Turning, I place it on a ledge and wipe my damp palms against my jeans.

What are the odds?

I stare at the wall. My heart is thrumming wildly in my chest.

I suppose it’s not that surprising. This city isn’t that big, and the fact that she would like the same band as Maggie isn’t that surprising either. But still.

I haven’t been able to get my mind off of her all week, and I don’t understand it. And, now, she’s here. If I were interested in finding someone—I’m not—she would be the opposite of the type of person I’d be looking for.

I breathe deeply, pulling the energy-charged hot air of the club into my lungs, before turning back toward her. She’s probably thirty feet away, far enough that I can watch her without her noticing. And she hasn’t realized that I’m here yet, as far as I can tell. She and another girl dance with abandon, similar to the way in which Maggie is moving next to me.

Her long hair is curled, the loose spirals bouncing against her bare shoulders as she moves. The kaleidoscopes of colors shining from the stage lights