Cookie

20

What I love most about Sundays is the freedom to wake up whenever I want, grab a book, and spend the entire day reading. So you can imagine my irritation when, early in the morning, a knock on my door jolts me awake.

With my parents out of town—again—there's no one else to get up and answer it. Which means I have to drag myself out of bed, possibly to commit murder against whoever dared to disturb my sleep. I pull on my robe and slip into my slippers, my eyes barely open as I shuffle downstairs, seriously considering grabbing a knife.

When I swing the door open, Liam stands there, looking infuriatingly perfect. His dark eyes are way too awake for this ungodly hour, and he's wearing his usual all-black ensemble—black jeans, black boots, a black shirt, and, of course, his signature leather jacket. His hair is a deliberate mess, styled to look effortlessly tousled, even though I know damn well he spends time making it look that way. In one hand, he holds two cups of coffee; in the other, a box of donuts.

"If no one's in trouble and you woke me at fucking six in the morning, you're going to be the one in trouble."

I don’t even wait for a response. I just turn on my heel and walk back inside, collapsing onto the couch.

"It’s seven, not six," he corrects as he follows me in, like that somehow makes a difference.

I let my eyes drift shut again, hoping he'll take the hint and enjoy his coffee in silence. Of course, that would be too easy. Instead, he disappears into the kitchen, where it sounds like he’s single-handedly destroying every plate my mom owns. A minute later, he returns, plopping down beside me and launching into a nonstop monologue. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but he just keeps going.

"Are you even listening?"

Before I can answer, he shifts me onto his lap, holding me like some oversized baby. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, and when I finally manage to crack my eyes open, I find his lips dangerously close to mine.

"Can we please go to bed now?" I murmur, my voice thick with sleep.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my groggy brain catches up, and I realize what I just said. Liam's smirk is instant.

"I mean—go to bed to sleep," I clarify, my face burning.

He sighs dramatically. "Thank God, Cookie. I should at least take you on a date before you start inviting me to your bed."

I swat his shoulder, rolling my eyes, but we both end up laughing like we always do. He hands me a coffee and lifts a chocolate donut to my lips.

"Eat," he instructs.

And, obviously, I do. Because donuts.

Since I mentioned a couple of months ago that they’re my absolute favorite, he always buys them for me—even though he hates them. And considering he drives twenty minutes across town just to get them from my favorite shop, I bet he hates that too.

It’s the kind of thing a really good boyfriend would do for his girlfriend. Just like the way he always finds a reason to touch me, or how he teases me but never crosses the line. I know what this looks like. I know what we are. But I also know what we’re not.

Liam and I have never defined this—whatever this is. And for now, that’s okay.

"Now, take your coffee upstairs, shower, change out of your pink pajamas, and put on something comfortable," he says. "We’re already late."

I frown, taking another bite of my donut. "Late for what? It’s six in the morning. The only thing I’m late for is my lazy Sunday."

Liam gives me an exasperated look—the same one my mom used to give me when I acted like a stubborn kid.

"I told you—it’s seven. And it's not early anymore. I’ve been up since five." He grins. "Now hurry up or there will be no surprise for you."

I sit up, eyes wide. "A surprise?"

He nods, clearly amused by how easily I switch from grumpy to excited.

"Go get ready, missy, or we’re going to be late."

I kiss his cheek before sprinting upstairs, another donut in my mouth and my coffee in hand. I take the fastest shower of my life, brush my teeth, comb my hair, and dig through my wardrobe for something comfortable. Since I have no clue where we’re going, I settle on black leggings, a cozy sweater, my own black leather jacket, and my usual boots.

By the time I come back downstairs, Liam is sticking a note to the fridge. I stand on my toes to peek over his shoulder.

I took Nataly to Aquis to visit the set of Faces. We’ll be there all day, but I’ll bring her home before 10 PM.

—Liam

I gasp. "Are you taking me to Aquis?"

Liam jumps, startled. But before he can say anything, I’m spinning in circles, dancing, tugging his hands, trying to make him dance too. And then—just as suddenly—I freeze.

Aquis is a 30-minute drive away.

I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to help me get over my fear of cars by giving me something to look forward to at the end of the trip.

Liam notices the shift in my expression immediately. He turns to face me, his hands cradling my face.

"I want to take you there," he says softly. "Today is just the first step. We might not even make it out of your driveway, and that’s okay. That’s why I stocked my truck with enough junk food to last us the day—just in case we stay home instead. But maybe we’ll get to the coffee shop first. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll get so caught up in the excitement of today that you won’t even notice the drive." He tilts his head. "It’s just thirty minutes, Cookie. Want to give it a try?"

My gut reaction is no. But then I remember I told my friends I’d go to the mountains on New Year’s Eve—a two-hour drive. I remember saying I’d try to move past this fear so they wouldn’t have to change their plans because of me.

And I remember how good Liam has been to me these past few months. How safe he makes me feel.

So I take a deep breath, nod, and walk outside with his hand resting gently on my waist.

Liam’s car is big—black, a Ford, and clearly his pride and joy. He even has a name for it—Consuelo. Don’t ask me why. It’s a guy thing.

"Do you want to get in first, or should I?" he asks cautiously.

I swallow. "Let’s just get in together."

Liam pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You got this, Nat. You’re strong."

I nod, and we slide into the car. He doesn’t start the engine right away—just watches me, waiting for me to settle.

After a moment, I exhale. "We can go."

The car starts rolling backward, then onto the main road. Tears slip down my cheeks as memories crash over me—Criss laughing, Luke’s eyes shining with love, their voices, their last words.

"Cookie."

Liam’s voice anchors me. His hand finds my thigh, grounding me.

"I miss them," I whisper. "They didn’t deserve to die."

When I finally look up, I realize we’re not in town anymore. Liam grins, brushing away my tears.

"Told you I’m the best company ever," he teases.

I smile, kissing his hands.

"You did amazing, Nataly," he murmurs. "And your sister would be proud of you."

Another tear falls, but he wipes it away.

"No more tears, Cookie. We have an amazing day ahead of us."

And he’s right. The day is perfect—not because of Faces, but because of him. Everything with Liam is better.