The Fall of January Cooper

by Audrey Bell

  I closed my eyes against my own imagination.

  No, I wouldn’t worry about Christian Cutlass making fun of me. I swallowed down my nausea. I wouldn’t worry about that at all. I wouldn’t worry about his blue eyes or his rumbling voice or the tattoo on his wrist. I wouldn’t worry the fact that he was the boy I kissed first or that he made my heart pound. I would worry about the weather. I’d worry about the flight to Dallas that my Aunt Lynda had paid for. I’d worry about Dallas.

  There wasn’t anything left for me to care about in Boston anyways.

  Christian

  I was staring at two turkeys in a crowded aisle of Stop & Shop when Darrin called me. He'd been ignoring me since the night I slept with Olivia and I was surprised to see his number.

  "What's up?"

  "You need to drive January to the airport," he said breathlessly.

  "What?"

  "Danielle broke her wrist."

  "What?"

  "She was running by the bridge. I've got to get her to the hospital. You need to pick up January and take her to the airport. She's not answering her phone."

  I rubbed the back of my head. "Jesus, is she alright?"

  "She's fine. I mean, she’s pissed as hell, but she’s fine. You have to get January. Please?"

  "Shit, Darrin. Isn't there someone else you can call?"

  "Are you kidding me?"

  I stared at the long row of turkeys. "No?”

  "Cutlass, go fucking get her. Now."

  I growled. "Fine. But you owe me."

  It’s not like January couldn’t fucking call a cab.

  I thought fucking the Harvard girl might have gotten whatever it was out of my system. But it hadn't done a thing. I was still having dreams about January Cooper. I deleted my Facebook—thinking I needed to go cold turkey. And I’d reactivated it and deleted it six times since.

  It was like I was a fucking heroin addict.

  I still had fantasies about January Cooper. But none of them involved driving her to the airport.

  The snow was falling thickly by the time I reached her dorm. And she wasn't waiting outside. And, because I didn't trust my willpower, I'd deleted her phone number from my cell phone.

  I parked illegally and followed another student into the dorm room.

  She'd mentioned living on the third floor. I climbed up the stairs and walked down the hall, checking the names on each door.

  Katelyn & January

  The theme of their hallway was Bratz Dolls. I suppressed a smile and knocked.

  The door flew open. "Hell—agh!!!"

  A girl, most definitely Katelyn tumbled backwards. She was naked.

  "TERRORISM! ATTACK! FIRE! SAVE ME SCHUYLER! OH MY GOD!"

  "Jesus Christ," I muttered.

  Several heads popped out of various doorways.

  "It's fine. I think I just surprised her," I said. I closed the door and stepped back. I gave her a moment and knocked again.

  "Just a minute," she called.

  I waited at the door. She opened the door again, completely naked. And screeched.

  "What the hell?" I demanded.

  "I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY BOYFRIEND."

  I closed the door, as the heads reappeared at the doorways. I waited a moment. "I'm going to knock again in a second, if you want to put something on.”

  She opened the door, knotting a bathrobe around her waist with furious vigor. "What is wrong with you?"

  I cocked my head. "Wait? Are you kidding? You opened the door. Twice.”

  "You knocked!"

  "Right," I said. "And you were naked."

  She huffed and gave me a once over. "So, what do you want?"

  “Where’s January?”

  “Why?”

  "I'm her ride to the airport."

  "You are not Darrin. You're Christian."

  I looked at her quizzically.

  "I saw Olivia's photos," she said. She poked me in the chest. "She had a lot to say about you, mister."

  Olivia. Katelyn.

  January. It would have gotten back to January.

  Jesus.

  "Look, I'm her ride to the airport."

  "Well, you are just a little bit late, don't you think?" she asked. She scrunched up her face and held up two pressed-together fingers. "Teeny tiny little bit late, aren't we?"

  January was prone to hyperbole, but this girl did seem like a drug addict. "I'm like, five minutes late. Where is she?"

  Katelyn shrugged. “She said she was waiting outside. She’s really crazy. I think she’s like on crack. It sucks that you have to work with her. So, you know my friend, Olivia, right?”

  I groaned.

  “We’re having a little surprise party for Olivia next week and you should definitely—”

  I rolled my eyes. "Look, I need to know..."

  "God, you're cute."

  "Kate?"

  I turned to see a sandy-haired kid who smelled like a marijuana dispensary.

  "Oh my god! He ruined it," she said. She stamped her foot. "I had a whole thing planned and all of the candles went out, Sky! Oh my god!"

  "Listen, I'm sorry. But I need to find January right now.”

  “Well, she’s around somewhere.”

  “Was her flight cancelled?”

  "How am I supposed to know th at? It's not like I'm air traffic control."

  "No. Well, clearly. There'd be no planes left if you were air traffic control. They'd have all crashed on your first day. Where is she?"

  "You," the stoner, Sky, said. "You dating January Cooper?"

  "No."

  He nodded. "Riiight. I dated January Cooper. It was awesome.” He looked at Katelyn, who seemed pissed. “What? I just meant she’s really, really hot.”

  I looked at Katelyn and then at Sky and then back to Katelyn. "You know, I actually thought she was exaggerating about you both but you guys are…never mind.”

  Schuyler nodded. "Right on, right on."

  "Baby," Katelyn said to Sky. She yanked him by the collar into the room and closed the door.

  "For fuck's sake," I muttered. I turned and walked down the hallway, rubbing my forehead.

  I heard her before I saw her. Padding down the hallway, lugging a suitcase behind her. I watched her make her way down the hallway before she finally looked up.

  Her eyes went black as she recognized me.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked coolly.

  "Darrin can't drive you," I said, lamely. "To the airport. Danielle broke her wrist."

  She nodded once. "I'll take a cab."

  "I'm here. I can drive you," I said.

  "I'm going to take a cab."

  She looked good. And she looked furious.

  "Look, by the time a cab gets here, you might miss your flight. The traffic getting here was crazy."

  She nodded once at me. "Fine. I'll pay you, then. For gas and for the time, or whatever. Okay?"

  "I offered to do it, January," I said. "You don't have to pay me."

  "It's only fair," she said.

  I wanted to withdraw my offer, just to make a point about the difference between doing a favor and doing a job for someone. But then I’d fucked up pretty badly the last time she tried to do me a favor.

  "Yeah, sure. If you insist," I said. I grabbed her suitcase. "Let's go before we hit too much traffic."

  She followed me down the staircase wordlessly.

  The suitcase was absurdly heavy. "Do you have another boyfriend in here?" I joked. "Because I met Schuyler. And if they're all like that, I can't really blame you."

  She didn’t laugh.

  Okay, so maybe she did think I hated her. And then had decided to hate me too. Or something.

  Or maybe she’d figured out how many times I’d looked at her photos on Facebook and was afraid. I hoped that wasn’t possible.

  January didn’t look at me while we drove. She turned her head, and stared out the window, and held herself perfectly still.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" I
asked.

  "Talk about what?" she asked frostily. Like the polite, but disinterested debutante she was.

  I smiled. "I don’t know. You seem…And we’re friends. And, you know..."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Ridiculous?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," she repeated. "You hate me. You changed your work schedule so you wouldn't have to see me. And Darrin forced you to drive me and that's fine, but you don't need to pretend to be my friend."

  I opened my mouth and shut it. I stared at the road before me. So she did actually think I hated her. Fuck.

  We got onto the highway and the snow started to pick up.

  "I like you, January," I said. “I thought we were friends, and I—”

  "You changed your whole schedule to avoid seeing me.”

  Obviously, I'd changed my schedule because I couldn't deal with her. But, I was pretty irritated she was so sure of it. "I've got a pretty busy semester, actually," I said. “And physical therapy.”

  "Sure, Christian," she said. She hadn’t looked away from the window.

  The snow was coming down hard, but I knew the roads would be fine. Boston salted the shit out of them before big storms. But I was worried her flight would be cancelled.

  "You should call the airline," I suggested as we got close to Logan.

  "It's not cancelled," she said tightly. "It can't be cancelled. Everything that could go wrong this year has already gone wrong. There's nothing left to go wrong. They are not cancelling my flight."

  "January," I said gently. "Just call them. Come on."

  She was taking American Airlines and we were nearly there and I had a very bad feeling that her flight would be cancelled and that she wouldn't be able to cope.

  "My flight is not going to be cancelled," she repeated.

  We reached the drop-off line. "I'm waiting for you," I said, as she got out of the star, stepping into the heavy snowfall.

  She looked at me defiantly. She opened her mouth and thought better of whatever she wanted to say. I put the car in park. I told myself if she wasn't back outside in half an hour, I'd just leave.

  January

  Everything was cancelled. I saw my flight listed on the board as cancelled and closed my eyes.

  I waited in a short line to speak to a gate agent.

  "When's the next flight?"

  The agent looked weary. "All of our flights are extremely full, Miss Cooper. We're putting people on stand-by flights Tuesday night, but we expect more cancellations."

  "I have to get to Dallas," I said. I thought maybe she might understand that I was desperate, but everyone was desperate.

  “I’m sorry. There's nothing we can do at this point except book you as a standby on a flight Tuesday night."

  I looked at her. "And what are my chances of actually getting on the plane?"

  "I'm afraid I don’t even know. The earliest flight we have is 11 PM on Tuesday evening. You'd be...thirty-fifth in line."

  "So, basically nonexistent, right?" I asked.

  She looked at me impassively. “I can’t say.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, at a loss. Staying in my dorm room for Thanksgiving just would not work out. It wouldn’t. I had to get to Dallas.

  "We can book you on that flight and call you if anything else opens up. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s all I can do."

  I accepted the temporary boarding pass. "What would you do?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  "If you had to get home for Thanksgiving, would you wait for a flight?"

  She shook her head at me. "If I had to get home for Thanksgiving, I'd just drive, baby. There are so many people trying to get home. And your flight was cancelled. But that's just me. Personally."

  I nodded and swallowed thickly. "Thank you."

  I could rent a car. I had saved almost two thousand dollars since I'd started working, and I could rent a car and go to Dallas. I'd have to drive all night and stop at a crappy motel somewhere, but I could make it.

  Christian was waiting outside. I knew he would be, somehow, even though I’d asked him not too.

  He gave me a regretful look and a sad half-wave, knowing I hadn’t been able to get home. I thought about kissing him. What a bad idea that had been. What a bad idea everything had been.

  I didn't say anything when I got into the car.

  "I'm sorry," he offered.

  "It's fine."

  "Can they rebook you?"

  "Not until Tuesday night," I said. "And I probably won't get on the flight."

  I heard his soft exhalation.

  "It's fine," I said. "I'll rent a car."

  "You can't," he said.

  "Yes, actually, I can."

  "You're not twenty-five," he said.

  “You’re joking,” I said, flabbergasted. “You have to be twenty-five?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Sucks.”

  I would steal a car then. I was going to get out of this miserable, freezing hell. And I wasn't going to come back. I had nothing here. Nothing. I was leaving and I wasn't coming back. And I didn't care.

  And that was when I started to cry.

  "Don't do that," he said, like it hurt him. "Come on. It'll be fine."

  He reached over for me, put a hand on my back, and I could feel my shoulders shaking as he rubbed my back, between my shoulder blades, and pulled me close to him. I pushed him away and covered my face and breathed in and out and in and out.

  This wasn't happening to me. I wasn't having a fucking hysterical meltdown in front of Christian Cutlass, who was the one person I wanted to fucking ice out more than anyone I'd ever wanted to ice out before.

  "We'll get you home, January," he said. "Come on. Don't cry."

  "I hate this," I said. "I hate this city, I hate college, I hate my roommate. There's nothing." I wiped my eyes. "I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. I cannot stand it here for another second."

  "Jan. Come on, baby. You're okay."

  "I'm not. I'm not. You think I am. Everyone thinks I am. But I am not okay. I'm just not."

  His hands went back to my shoulders, and he squeezed them lightly.

  When my breathing steadied, he started to drive away from the airport. I pushed the tears away from my eyes roughly with the palm of my hand.

  I closed my eyes and thought about my horses. They'd been one of the first things sold off. They were worth a small fortune. Good bloodlines and all.

  I thought about the first time I ever rode. About how my heart thundered. About how I felt like the pony could have thrown me at any moment.

  And Christian kept one hand between my shoulder blades, and even though my pride wanted to pull away, my body didn’t.

  And eventually, I fell asleep.

  Christian

  She opened her eyes with a start. We were about halfway to New York. She looked around and then she looked at me. And then she looked out the window.

  "Where the hell are we?" I demanded.

  "Ah..." I cleared my throat. "Rhode Island."

  "What?" she said. She shook her head and sat up straighter. She looked back at me. "Why are we in Rhode Island?"

  "I thought you might be able to get a flight out of New York."

  She blinked at me. "You're driving me to New York?"

  "Is that okay with you?" I asked. I reached for the soda I'd stopped for outside of Boston, when she was still asleep and I decided I couldn’t bear the disappointment on her face when I dropped her off at her dorm.

  She nodded once and blinked. "Why are you driving me to New York?”

  Okay. So she was angry. She'd gone to sleep heartbroken and now she was furious. I tried to explain: "You seemed like you really wanted to get home."

  She looked at me. "I don't believe you."

  "What? Why don't you believe me?"

  "I just don't," she said. She crossed her arms. "I bet Olivia put you up to this."

  "So you heard about that?”

  "Everybody heard ab
out that," she said dismissively. "She posted a photo essay of your love affair on Facebook."

  I winced. “Look¸ I didn’t even really know she knew you until we…and I didn’t know it was the Olivia. Honestly. And, I didn’t, frankly. Well, I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t know it would bother you.”

  "It doesn't bother me," she said. She ran a hand through her hair. "I cannot believe you're driving me to New York."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Because every time you see me, you look like you're getting a headache."

  "Well. You're a handful."

  She snorted.

  I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. "Sorry I was weird after Halloween."

  "Weird?" she said.

  "Yeah. Weird."

  "Weird doesn't cut it," she said.

  I looked over at her.

  "I bet you're in love with Olivia now," she said. She shifted. "Which means you're probably not driving me to New York. It means you're going to drive me to the Atlantic Ocean and sacrifice me to Satan. Or the God of Backstabbers. Or whoever that bitch prays too. Definitely not Jesus. Oh, God, I really have to get out of here.”

  "Are you always this cheerful when you wake up?"

  She pursed her lips.

  "Olivia could pray to Jesus. She has a cross tattoo."

  She shot me a withering glare. “What?”

  “On her left ass cheek,” I said. “Or right above it.”

  “I don’t want to hear about Olivia’s ass cheek.”

  "You seem kind of jealous."

  "Of who? You? Or Olivia?" she asked.

  "Olivia."

  "I am jealous of Olivia," she said flatly. "She has a family that calls her on her birthday."

  I stopped smiling. "Right. Sorry."

  "There's got to be an airport closer than New York," she said.

  "Not a major one.”

  She looked like she might start crying again, so I thought to change the subject. “So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. Going to my aunt Lynda's."

  I nodded.

  "What do you normally do?"

  "We usually go to St. Barth's."

  "Must've been nice."

  She shrugged. "Actually, I hated it. I can't think of anything worse."

  I smiled. "Than St. Barth's in November?"