The Lies That Bind

16: Good Intentions, And Whatnot...

Cooper was staring at his computer screen, paralyzed with indecision and disgust as he debated whether or not to schedule an appointment with Professor Li during office hours later today, when the call from Calla came in.

"Hi," he said a shade too quickly, putting her on speaker. Oh, God. What if she asks me about the pills? She's definitely going to ask me about the pills. And he wouldn't have an answer for her, not one she would accept, because the pills were still sitting on his nightstand, two inconspicuous little white dots that were slowly but surely ruining his fucking life.

Calla had made the concept of poisoning his own professor seem so simple. So...inconsequential. Give yourself the week to mull it over, she'd said. And he had. Oh, Cooper fucking had mulled it over—hour after hour, day after day. Staring at the walls, the ceiling, the students that he passed on his way to class. It felt like everyone was watching him. Like they knew what a shitty, terrible person he'd become.

And that wasn't even the worst part. No, the worst part was that somehow, despite the crippling guilt and the nightmares that had returned with a vengeance, he'd worked out a plan.

He knew exactly how to get those pills to the professor. But how to go through with it? How to live with himself once the deed was done?

"Cooper. You there?"

He hit the submit button on his computer screen, dread curling in the pit of his stomach as he confirmed his appointment. No turning back now. "Yeah. I'm here."

"Olivia's throwing a Christmas party and she wants you there."

It wasn't what he'd expected her to say. Do you have an update for me or have you figured out how to kill your professor yet had been, more or less, where his mind had gone. "Olivia...what?" he asked, dazed.

"Olivia invited us to a party," Calla said more slowly. There was a brief pause. "Together." Her next words sounded as though they were being forced through her teeth. "With...matching sweaters, or something."

He couldn't help the grin that split his face—the first flicker of joy he'd felt since she'd left him to come to terms with an impossible decision. "That's adorable."

"It's tacky and awful and if we don't do it, Olivia will never let me hear the end of it."

Cooper had to stifle a laugh. "Sounds serious."

"Cooper," she said, indignant. "You're laughing at me."

"Yes, I am." He closed his computer and sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "You can take down a fully grown man without batting an eye, but matching sweaters is where you draw the line?"

She grumbled something unintelligible from the other end of the line. And then, more softly: "Cooper..."

Here it comes. He couldn't bear to hear a false apology on her lips, did not want to imagine the cold depth of her eyes as she imparted her sympathies for placing him in such a difficult position. She knew such platitudes were to be expected, had learned that lesson long ago from Rachel. From anyone else, Cooper would expect it as the very bare minimum of human decency.

But not from her.

"So," he said, keeping his voice upbeat. "This party..."

She seemed reluctant when she said, "It's in three weeks."

"That's great and all, but there's just one, tiny problem."

"Problem?" she asked, immediately on guard. He couldn't practically hear her walls sliding up into place, defensive as always.