“It’s only eleven,” he said, scratching his neck. Michelle turned to Brooke.
“Do you mind if I talk to my boyfriend alone?”
Brooke raised her eyebrows at Ryan and said, “Sure,” before turning away from the couple. She stepped over to the table where shots of cheap liquor were being lined up.
“Ryan!” Michelle’s stern voice made him tear his eyes away from Brooke. “Are you leaving with me or not?”
“Michelle, please . . . I haven’t seen these people in a really long time.”
“In two months you won’t be seeing a lot of me either,” she said.
“I know, but . . .” He wondered why Brooke was wearing so much makeup. Michelle began to rub her knee up his leg and then press herself against him. Whoa. She never got feisty in public.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered.
The awkwardness and bad timing of everything made him grind out the words, “Not right now.”
Michelle pouted. “Sometimes I really don’t know why we’re together, Ry.”
“Don’t call me Ry.” His tone made her pull away and his mouth popped open to say something apologetic. He’d never spoken so harshly to her before.
“Forget it. I’m leaving.” She stomped away. From the doorway, Michelle jangled her keys and shouted. “Bye, Ryan!”
She slammed the door behind her. He felt everyone’s eyes. His pulse pounded and he shifted his feet.
Shit.
He went after her.
She must have known he would, because she was standing on the porch with her arms crossed when he ran out. He stopped in front of her.
Michelle’s bottom lip quivered. “What’s happening to us, Ryan?”
Ryan knew he needed to finally grow some balls and man up. He couldn’t keep doing this to her. Or himself.
“It’s not working,” he said. The words sounded foreign and lame.
“You’re breaking up with me?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you, Michelle. But I’m not the right guy for you. I don’t think I can change. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love you the way you deserve and make you happy.”
“What did I do wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Ryan held his breath as he held her eyes and waited. One tear fell. Then a second. She swiped them away and choked out, “I need Sarah.”
He nodded and went back in the house, pushing his way through until he found Sarah out back with a cigarette. She stomped it out when she saw his face.
“She needs you,” Ryan says.
“You finally broke up?” Sarah asked.
The words jolted him like a punch. Ryan nodded. He followed her back through the house, but when they got to the front door Sarah turned and stopped him with her palm to his sternum.
“You’re done. I got this.” The stern look she gave him showed that she understood, even if she wasn’t happy.
“Are you taking her home?” he asked.
She gave a terse nod and reached for the doorknob.
He stepped back to let the door close. A sour sense of loss and finality settled in his belly, mixing with the guilt and wonder of a sweet presence in the room behind him. Looks of pity flickered over him as he turned, but none more sympathetic than Brooke’s. He swallowed and pulled off his baseball cap, running his hand through his flattened hair before sliding the hat back down on his head and low over his eyes.
“You okay, man?” Steve asked.
Ryan could only shrug and try not to stare at Brooke, who hadn’t looked away from him. He was more aware of her than he’d ever been of anything in his life. He hated himself, because with each second that passed, his sadness over ending his first relationship became less and less of what took up his heart.
J.J. wrapped a long arm around Ryan’s neck and handed him another beer, which he really didn’t need. “It’s all good, Kid. Welcome back to singlehood.” J.J. clinked their bottles together, and people in the room finally began to return to their previous conversations.
Ryan put the bottle to his lips, but didn’t drink. His body felt strange—numb and heavy inside but buzzing on the surface. He sensed Brooke walking around the table and coming to him as J.J. let him go and went to hassle one of the high school girls.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“She’s not mad at you for talking to me, is she?”
“Nah. We’ve been having problems. The whole college thing, y’know? It’s not your fault.”
Brooke studied him, taking him in with her eyes.
“Man . . .” She stared up at him. “Even your voice has changed. I have to look up at you now.”
Her attention gave him a rush.
“I was always a little taller than you,” he said.
“Yeah, but now you’re like . . . I don’t know.”
For a second she seemed almost shy, and it filled Ryan with masculine pride.
“Wanna take a shot with me?” she asked.
“Just one. I haven’t decided if I’m staying the night or driving later.”
“You should stay,” she said, pouring the clear liquid into a Dixie cup and handing it to him. “It’s been too long.”
It had been too long, Ryan thought, but with the comfortable ease between them, it was as if no time had passed. Their eyes met and locked as they threw back their shots. It burned like liquid fire and Ryan coughed, which made Brooke laugh. He hadn’t had hard liquor since the night of his birthday when he’d gotten drunk and called her. The memory brought heat to his cheeks.
Jackie came over and grabbed Brooke by the arm. “We’re playing cards. I need a partner.”
Brooke looked at Ryan as if asking permission, filling him once again with that masculine pride of ownership, which he had no right to feel.
“Go on,” he told her, nodding toward the table.
“Come with,” she said. Her smile was sweet, and Ryan sensed she didn’t want to be any farther from him than he wanted to be from her. So he was content to sit back and watch.
The party grew as the night went on, and Brooke continued to drink. Ryan had counted eight, which he thought was a lot for a girl, but Brooke stayed upright. She’d gotten louder and was laughing a lot more. Still, she seemed the most sober in the group. Jackie had already slid out of her chair during one laugh attack, and J.J. was a slobbering mess.
At two in the morning people started clearing out.
J.J.’s little brother, Brian, pulled out the couch bed and people piled on. Jackie curled up in a recliner and passed out.
Brooke’s eyes drooped slightly, but were otherwise clear as she smiled up at Ryan.
“I’m not ready to sleep yet,” she told him.
His heart beat a little faster.
Brian must have heard because as he passed them he said, “Y’all can hang in the basement.”
Ryan peered around the room. The last thing he wanted was some rumor to get back to Michelle that he’d gone off with another girl the same night they broke up, but nobody was paying attention.
Brooke followed Ryan down the wooden steps to the unfinished basement. It was mostly used for storage, but one corner had an area rug on the concrete with an old couch and a television for playing video games.
Ryan flopped onto the squeaky couch and was surprised when Brooke leaned heavily against him with her head on his shoulder. The slump of her body showed him she was drunker than she’d let on upstairs.
Ryan pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over them.
“You’re not gonna get sick, are you?” he asked.
“I never get sick from drinking. Got a gut like my dad.”
Ryan tensed. He didn’t like that comparison. Brooke lifted her head and looked at him.
“I was on academic probation my first semester,” she said. “I never told any
one. I partied too hard when I was pledging my sorority. I got my grades back up, but my mom and Ron were pissed. They said I was heading down the same path as my dad.”
Anger surged through Ryan. He knew Brooke had the capability to be like her father, but he also knew she was stronger than that. He believed in her. Why couldn’t they? They should have been encouraging her, instead of saying shitty things to provoke her deepest fears.
“You’re not your dad,” Ryan said through clenched teeth.
Her eyes watered. “But I’m like him.”
He ran his hand down her soft, straight hair and she closed her eyes.
“You’re not him. And you won’t end up like him. You’re just having fun like everyone else.” He didn’t know if he believed that, but he wanted it to be true. Ryan’s stomach clenched with nerves as he prepared to say the next thing. “And if you’re really worried, Brooke . . . you could maybe stop drinking.”
Her head dropped to her chest. She looked so tired. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?” he whispered.
She thought about it. “People like me better when I drink.”
“Who?” Guys? “Sorry, but fuck them.”
Ryan wondered if it wasn’t her who liked herself better when she drank—when she became numb and let go of everything.
Brooke slid herself down across the couch, laying her head in his lap. He moved the hair back from her face, then took his thumb and wiped a smudge of eyeliner from the corner of her eye.
“I’ve missed you, Ry.”
He couldn’t say anything. In the next second he felt her hand pressing on his pants. At first he thought it was an accident, but as he sat very still she flicked the button of his jeans open and unzipped them. Oh, God . . . holy . . .
“Brooke—”
“It’s okay.”
She started to slip her hand in, and with a thud of his heart he grasped her wrist. He was so shocked, and suddenly so turned on he could barely find his voice.
He stuttered, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re the only one who doesn’t expect something from me.”
With a deep breath, Ryan gently pulled her hand away and tried to hold it, but she sat up, wrapping her hands around her knees.
“Brooke?”
She wouldn’t look at him. He quickly zipped his jeans back up and tried to adjust himself.
“Hey . . .” He pulled her to him, tugging her closer when she tried to pull away, until she finally relaxed against his side, shaking. Questions and emotions warred inside Ryan. He had no clue what to say or do to make this right. He wanted to lighten the mood and lessen the pain of rejection he knew she felt.
“Listen,” Ryan said into her hair. “You’re killin’ me right now. If you show up sober at my house tomorrow and try to put your hands down my pants, I swear I won’t stop you. But the last time I kissed you, you were drunk, and I think you regretted it. I want you, but not like this.”
His breathing went shallow as he waited for her response. She kept her cheek pressed against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his biceps.
Her answer was quiet. “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had, you know.”
Joy, pure and sweet, exploded inside him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down so they were both lying, her back spooning against his chest. He fixed the blanket and tried to rein himself in when he felt her nestle her body against his. She used the crook of his elbow as a pillow.
“I’m coming to your house tomorrow,” she promised.
He squirmed back farther as her words made their way through his system, then shivered when she kissed the sensitive skin in the middle of his arm.
He tried to think of something cool to say, but the only thing he could bear to tell her was the truth.
“I’ll be waiting.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was four o’clock in the afternoon before Ryan knew Brooke wasn’t coming.
He thought back to that morning. All the signs had been there. Brooke had slipped out of his arms, trying to sneak away, but he’d called out to her and asked where she was going.
“I need to find Jackie,” she’d whispered. “I’ll call you later, ’kay, Ry?”
He’d said nothing. As per their usual MO, neither of them brought up what had happened between them or the things they’d said. And then Brooke had rushed away, leaving him with the seeds of doubt that would bloom into hurt and frustration as the day went on.
His heart jumped, then sank, when his cell rang with Michelle’s number. Guilt made him answer, though he prayed she wouldn’t make this harder on them.
“Hey,” he said.
“We’re broken up, like, five minutes and you’re already hooking up with Brooke Bennett? Who, by the way, is fat and has been dragging you around like a dog for years!”
He forced himself to stay calm, because Michelle’s frantic voice was anything but.
“We didn’t hook up,” he said evenly.
“I know you slept in the basement together!”
“But nothing happened.”
“Do you love her?” Michelle’s voice cracked with anger and tears, making Ryan cringe.
He opened his mouth, but fear and confusion gripped his throat. All this time he’d buried his love for Brooke, continually kicking sand over it as he’d tried to live his life, but one night of seeing her had raised it up, as shining and strong as ever.
Michelle made a choking sound on the other end of the phone.
“Oh my God. You are such an asshole, Ryan.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She hung up on him. He yanked his hat off his head and threw it across the room before collapsing on the couch with his head in his hands. He felt sick. He never meant to hurt Michelle, but he’d selfishly stayed with her. And she’d been right about Brooke. Over and over she’d proven she didn’t want him unless she was drunk and trying to “reward” him for being nice to her.
Ryan’s mom came in with her keys in her mouth and shopping bags in her arms. She shut the door behind her with her hip.
“Need help?” he asked from his sitting position.
She chuckled, dropping the bags and taking the keys out of her mouth. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic when you offer.”
He started to stand, but she waved him back down.
“I can handle it. You look like you had a rough night.”
Ryan stood when he saw her struggling on her tiptoes to slide a can on the third shelf. He took it from her and pushed it in.
“Thanks,” she said, rubbing his back in a way that made him feel like a little boy again. It was a nostalgic feeling, making him open up to her.
“We broke up.”
He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, and she stopped what she was doing.
“Oh, Ryan. I’m sorry.” She came over and put her hands on his crossed forearms. “I know you’re hurting, sweetie, but I think it’s really for the better.”
He gave her a nod, but felt bad accepting her affection. He didn’t deserve it.
“I was going to go out to dinner with the girls, but I think I’ll stay home tonight.”
“No,” he told her. “You should go. I’m not in the best mood, so I’m just gonna hang out in my room.”
He ignored her sad expression.
“Well . . . if you’re sure. I’ll bring you something, ’kay?”
He gave her another nod and she lifted onto her toes to kiss his cheek before he went to his room.
Half an hour later he heard his mom leave. Ryan wanted to sleep but he couldn’t relax. He lay facedown on his mattress, digging his fingers in his hair against his scalp and squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could. The longer he lay there thinking, the angrier he became. At himself. At Brooke. At life.
And then his phone binged with a text message.
Ryan’s heart went straight to his throat and began thumping a heavy rhythm. It
was from Brooke. He fumbled to open it.
Ry?
He now fumbled to reply.
I’m here.
Thump, thump, thump.
I’m here too.
He jumped from his bed and ran to the front door, yanking it open. Brooke stood there looking more like herself, casual, less makeup. Jackie sat in her car, watching them. Ryan couldn’t bring himself to smile or be cheerful. When he spoke, the anger he’d been seething in all day came through.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.
She blinked and looked down. “Yeah. I would have come sooner but . . .”
“But what?” He waited for her excuse—her reason for ditching him one last time before she returned to school and never saw him again.
“I was scared,” she whispered.
Her genuine reply stole some of the bitter wind from his sails, but not all of it.
“Why’s Jackie waiting?” he asked. “You planning to say your good-byes and run?”
She bit her lip, eyes darting as if she was embarrassed. “I didn’t know how serious you were, and I didn’t want to be stuck. . . .”
Now he completely deflated. And he wondered why she was really there. Out of obligation for some promise she’d made last night?
He lifted his chin at Jackie and said, “I got her. I’ll take her home.”
Brooke gave him a grateful smile, seeming relieved.
“You kids be good,” Jackie called before driving off.
Before they moved from the foyer he asked, “Why are you really here?”
She didn’t seem surprised or offended by the question, only scared. He’d never been like this toward her before, but he’d also never been so close to what he wanted, and he had to make sure they were on the same page. He wanted everything, so if this was just a hookup for her, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it, no matter how much his body would disagree.
“I wanted to see you,” she said, fiddling with her fingers. “I feel stupid about last night.”
“I’m not holding you to anything you said last night, Brooke. And you don’t need to feel stupid. It was just me.”
Flirting With Maybe Page 6
