The Lies That Bind

18: A Very Tacky Christmas

"Alright, be honest."

Cooper looked up from his notebook, bewildered as Vincent dropped his backpack in the seat adjacent. As had been the case for the last two weeks, he felt a twinge of guilt at the sight of his best friend, but it quickly faded as Vincent grudgingly shed his old letterman jacket, revealing the most hideous turtleneck sweater Cooper had ever seen. 

"On a scale of one to ten," Vincent spread his broad arms, nearly splitting the seams of his too-small sweater, "how bad is it?"

"Put the jacket back on," Cooper said immediately, straight-faced.

"Excellent." Vincent dropped down in the seat across from Cooper, their table littered with loose papers, textbooks, and highlighters—the trademarks of a hellish finals week. "I think I'm gonna win this thing."

Cognizant of the other students crowding the library's second floor, Cooper leaned over the table and whispered, "You do realize there's no prize for tackiest sweater or anything, right?"

Vincent folded his hands behind his head, perfectly at ease. "Yeah. But there should be." He indicated the Santa-hat-wearing-dinosaurs stitched across his chest, each one mounted by a bazooka-wielding elf. "Look at this baby. Doesn't get tackier than this."

"I'm definitely not arguing with you there, buddy."

"Oh. Before I forget..." Eyes twinkling with amusement, Vincent pulled a plastic bag from his backpack and tossed it at Cooper's face.

"Just because you're a quarterback doesn't mean you actually have to throw everything," Cooper grumbled, digging out the first sweater. It looked exactly like a Santa suit, complete with little wool buttons and a white-trim hood that doubled as a hat. "Good God. Vincent, you've outdone yourself."

"Just trying to keep it tacky." Vincent indicated Cooper should pull out the second sweater, so he did—and nearly burst out laughing as he envisioned the look on Calla's face once she realized she'd be dressed as an elf, bells and all. "Santa's little helper," Vincent crooned, clearly delighted.

"Calla's going to kill me," Cooper said matter-of-factly. "Scratch that. Calla's going to kill you."

"I wouldn't put it past her."

"Very funny." Cooper's amusement faded as he stuffed both sweaters down into the bottom of his backpack. He and Calla had barely spoken ten words to each other since her last visit to Penn State, because...well, because he had no idea how to talk to her. Not about the professor, anyway. He had made his choice and that should have been the end of it, but of course things were never that simple, not for him and certainly not when it came to Calla Parker.

He'd just needed...time. Time away from her. Time to process the resentment he could feel festering in his heart—resentment toward himself, toward the detective, and toward Calla herself.

So he'd ignored her. For days. Several days. Until he was finally able to look in a mirror and not completely loathe the person he saw staring back at him.

But how was he supposed to explain any of that to Calla? He could confide in her, yes—but she would never be able to fully understand the guilt that hounded him, not when she herself was incapable of such a thing.

He forced his attention back to his notebook. He could agonize about the specifics of what was sure to be an awkward reunion later. "Speaking of the holidays..." He frowned down at his schedule. "When's your last final?"

"Thursday." Vincent glared at the mess of study materials on the table between them. "I should probably study for that at some point."

"Uh, yeah. You should probably get on that."