Brooks

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  I’d thought he was going to slam my idea and give me the line again about how he didn’t want to make money off his art, but he just smiled and shook his head at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You’re just a solution to so many problems, Remington.” That made me want to kiss him again. Bastard. I coughed.

  “You can have the rest of it,” I said about the cake. “If I bring it home, I’ll just eat it and it will go straight to my ass.” He opened his mouth as if to make a comment about my ass and then slammed it shut. Probably because it wasn’t a platonic comment.

  I was a little saddened by his restraint, but I’d get over it. This was the way I needed things to be.

  Thirteen

  Brooks

  After Remi left Mom came out of the bedroom where she and Dad had been hiding.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  “She made a cake,” I said and Mom laughed.

  “Of course she did.”

  Of course she did.

  “And?” Mom asked coming over to look at said cake.

  “And she wants things to go back to being platonic.” Mom raised an eyebrow and motioned to the cake to ask me if she could have a piece. I nodded and she cut one.

  “You can’t un-ring the bell,” she said, sighing. “But you’re both young. And I think she’s saying one thing and feeling another.” I thought that too.

  “But there’s nothing I can do. I can’t force her to be with me and I wouldn’t want to. I want her to want to be with me.” I certainly wanted to be with her. More than I’d wanted anything in a while.

  “Well, then you’ve got to show her what she could have. Prove yourself to her. I know it isn’t easy, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” I cut myself another piece of cake.

  “You’ll work it out¸ baby,” Mom said. “And if you don’t, then she isn’t the right girl. But I think she’ll get there. She’s a smart girl.” She was. Smart and funny and beautiful and sassy. The whole fucking package.

  I ended up taking another piece of cake up with me when I went to bed. Or when I tried to go to bed. I’d had a hard time sleeping lately. My brain just wouldn’t shut off.

  So I ate my cake and drew for a few hours. I smeared some frosting on the page by accident, then I left it. Somehow it worked.

  I had to do something. Anything. There was so much energy buzzing inside me and I had no idea what to do with it. I stayed up for hours, drawing. I hadn’t had a binge like that in years. I’d done it a lot when I was younger. My parents only found out when I kept falling asleep in school. Instead of telling me not to do it, they just said to moderate it and save most of it for weekends.

  ****

  I felt like crap the next morning because I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, but it had been worth it. I’d woken up with charcoal on my hands and my eyes burning, but I was calm.

  “Cake for breakfast?” Mom said when I came downstairs before going to work.

  “Why not?” I said.

  “No reason.”

  It was just the two of us because Dad was sleeping in and Grayson was off with friends. Again.

  “I think... I think I’m going to cut back on my hours at the store,” I said as Mom sipped her coffee.

  “You are?”

  “Yes.” That was the one thing I’d known when I woke up this morning. I needed to do something different. Something new. Something for me.

  “I think that’s good a good idea. I also heard that the local gallery is taking submissions for their fall show,” she said, going to her bag and pulling out a business card.

  “This is the woman who runs it. I just happened to run into her at the grocery store.” Sure she did.

  But I took the card and slid it into my back pocket. Putting my art in a show would mean I’d have to get it professionally matted and framed, and figure out what I should charge for sales. I hadn’t wanted to tie art and money together, but that hadn’t worked out so well for me up until now. Why couldn’t I just try it? See if it worked and then if it didn’t, I never had to do it again.

  Maybe it was Remi, maybe it was just frustration with my life, but I had an energy that I couldn’t remember having for a long time. Years, at least.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said and she gave me a hug.

  “I hope you do.”

  ****

  I was distracted all day at the store, thinking about Remi, thinking about art, thinking about life. I got one text from Remi late that afternoon. I was relieved to hear from her.

  Hey, how’s it going?

  Casual. Friendly. Not what I wanted. But platonic contact was still contact.

  Bored. You?

  She typed out a few messages and then deleted them. Hm.

  Pretty much same. I think... I need to get out of here. I need to go somewhere.

  I knew exactly how she felt. I’d suggest we go on a road trip, but that would probably involve us staying the night somewhere and that might lead to not-friendly things happening.

  So I didn’t mention it.

  We could do something together again. You can pick. Anything.

  I hated how desperate I sounded, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see her by any means necessary.

  I don’t know...

  I held my breath and waited.

  Okay, fine. But no funny business. No eye-fucking. No groping. She was really laying down the law. I could follow those rules. Probably. Maybe not on the eye-fucking. I couldn’t look at her now without thinking of her naked.

  Deal. Let me know when and I’ll pick you up.

  It’s on.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Even in a short text message exchange, I could feel it. If this wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was. Either things were going to work out, or she was going to rip me to pieces. There would be no in-between. Right now, I had no idea which way things were going to go, but I was going to fight like hell for her.

  Starting now.

  ****

  Remi texted me the next day 6:30. Be there.

  When she came out of her house she had on a t-shirt, leather jacket and a swirly skirt. She always looked so gorgeous, no matter what. I got out to open the door for her, but she shook her finger at me.

  “No, that’s something you do for girls you’re dating. Turn right around, buddy.” I glared at her, but went back and got into the truck as she hauled herself in and buckled her seatbelt.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked and she pulled out her phone and hit something. The robotic GPS voice came on and told me to drive 500 feet and take a left.

  “Oh, I see how it is,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “No, you don’t. But you will,” she said. She was practically vibrating with excitement. So cute. I was trying and failing not to notice.

  “I’m scared,” I said and she gave me a heart-stopping smile.

  “You should be.”

  ****

  We made it out of Hope Harbor and headed toward the highway. I kept waiting for instructions to take an exit, but we just kept going. And going.

  An hour later, we were still going.

  “We’re not leaving the state, are we?” I asked. I was gonna run out of gas here pretty soon.

  “Nope. We’re getting closer.” She’d kept the radio turned down low so I could hear the GPS, but she’d been low-key singing along the whole time. If she was trying to not seduce me, she was doing a poor job of it. Granted, there wasn’t much (if anything) she could do that wouldn’t make me want her.

  The GPS finally directed me to an exit that would lead me into downtown Portland. After a few turns, the disembodied voice informed me that my destination was on my left.

  The Portland Museum of Art.

  Of course.

  “I know it’s cliché, but I don’t care,” she said. “I figured we could walk through and then get burgers or something. There’s a place around here that makes them with macaroni and cheese inside and I’ve been dying t
o try them for ages.” That sounded perfect. And the fact that I got to do it with Remi made it even better.

  I parked in a garage and we headed toward the museum. I wanted to take her hand, but it was against the rules. I had to shove my hands in my pockets and she wouldn’t even let me open the door for her. I wanted to set the rules on fire and burn them to the ground.

  We bought our tickets (she wouldn’t let me pay) and then we headed into the main part of the gallery. They had a photography exhibit going, along with their regular collection.

  “I’d hoped there was a charcoal exhibit going, but no such luck,” Remi said as we looked at the first painting, a Renoir.

  “That’s fine. This... this is enough.” I felt the fire from the other night burning in my veins again. My hand clenched and unclenched, wishing for a brush or a bit of charcoal.

  I realized Remi was watching me.

  “What?” I said.

  Remi

  I’d never seen him like that and I knew I’d made the right decision to bring us here. I hadn’t told him yet, but there were a few pieces by Maine College of Art students here as well. My hope was that they’d inspire him to do more with his own art. If it made him this happy, then he should be doing it all the time.

  Brooks glowed. I was so glad I got to witness it. As we moved from piece to piece, I looked at him more than the art because he was much more beautiful. I’d never really used that to describe a man before, but it was the only word I could think of to use for him right now.

  It took us a while to work our way through the museum. The student work was in the last gallery.

  “Oh,” he said when he saw the sign designating all the work as that of grad students.

  “I thought you might appreciate a little inspiration,” I said, stopping myself from nudging his shoulder just in time. I’d made the no-touching rule and I was going to stick to it, dammit.

  “Oh,” he said again, looking around. I stepped back and gave him some space, walking in the opposite direction from him. There were a few other people wandering around, chatting in low voices. Some of the work was... interesting and some of it was very, very good. I especially liked a few pieces that looked like they were ripped from a graphic novel. Very cool.

  I made it around the room twice before Brooks had gone once. He took his time, studied everything from different angles, as if he was picking it apart, trying to figure out the technique and the artist’s intent. I loved watching him.

  He finally turned to me, his eyes glowing.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re totally welcome,” I said. I wanted to hug him. And kiss him. The want pulsed between us, but he stepped away from me.

  “Are you hungry?” I said, my voice sounding weird in my ears.

  “Yeah.” His voice was a little odd too. “Yeah, I am.”

  We left the museum and walked to the restaurant. We ended up waiting fifteen minutes for a tiny table crammed into a corner.

  “Do you mind if I order a drink?” I asked and he shook his head.

  “Not at all.”

  I got one of the house special drinks and Brooks ordered himself a Coke. Things were back to being awkward between us and I didn’t like it. Stupid sex. Stupid sex that had ruined a perfectly good relationship. Or whatever this was. A friendship was a relationship, right?

  “So, what did you think?” I asked and he blinked at me a few times before he answered.

  “It was amazing. I haven’t been to a gallery in a long, long time. I used to go whenever there was a new show at UMaine. I loved it and hated it at the same time.” He sort of smiled.

  “I can imagine. Because you wanted it to be you.” He lifted one shoulder.

  “I mean, I guess? It just seems so easy for everyone else.”

  “I don’t think life is really easy for anyone. It only looks that way.” Our waiter came back and we ordered calamari as an appetizer, in addition to our burgers. I was probably as excited about the burger as he’d been about the art show. We both had our priorities.

  “I don’t know,” he said, reaching for a piece of calamari.

  “Yeah, me neither.” That time I got a real smile.

  ****

  Brooks started talking about the art and I’d never seen him so animated. He was lit up again. I didn’t even understand half the stuff he was saying about forced perspective and the different materials the artists had used, but it didn’t matter. I just liked listening to him talk about something he was so clearly passionate about.

  “You should go to art school,” I blurted out when I was halfway through my burger. It was pretty much the most amazing thing I’d ever eaten, but I didn’t know if I could finish it. The thing was huge. He picked up a fry and dipped it in ketchup before he answered.

  “I thought about it. But it’s too late. And I don’t even think I’d get in.” I shook my head.

  “It’s never too late. Brooks, you’re not even twenty-five. There are people who go to college when they’re our parents’ ages. And people who are even older. And you don’t know if you’ll get in until you try.”

  He shook his head.

  “I hate it when you’re right. It’s really annoying.” I snorted and stole a fry off his plate.

  “I’d say I was sorry, but I’m definitely not. Being right is fun. And you’re trying to flirt with me to change the subject.”

  “Is it working?” I grabbed another fry.

  “Just think about it. That’s all you have to do. Think about it. Won’t kill you.” Brooks took a deep breath.

  “My mom gave me the card of a woman who runs a local gallery. They’re taking submissions. I’d have to get some sort of collection together and have everything framed and matted, which would be both expensive and a lot of work, but...” he trailed off.

  “That would be amazing! You should totally do it. That way it won’t be just me and your family telling you how good you are.” He rolled his eyes.

  “I don’t even know if I’ll get in, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. I might just be art drunk right now. Who knows?” Art drunk. I liked that. I got dessert drunk all the time. It was totally a thing.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to try,” I said, picking up my burger again. I really wanted to finish this thing.

  “I’m really glad we came here,” Brooks said as I shoved my burger in my face. I almost moaned as I ate it. Talk about a foodgasm.

  “Me too,” I said through a mouthful. Cheese oozed out and got everywhere. I probably had it all over my face, but I gave no fucks.

  He just laughed and handed me another napkin.

  ****

  Brooks was speculative on the way back. We didn’t need the GPS this time so I got to turn up the radio as I shucked off my shoes and put them up on the dashboard.

  “How did I do? With the platonic-ness,” he asked.

  “Pretty good, I’d say. See? We can do this. Go back to the way things were before the other night.” He looked at me in a way that stabbed me in the chest.

  “Yeah. Guess we can.” But I didn’t think either of us believed it. This little truce we had was temporary. Sooner or later one of us was going to break and I had no idea when or how, or what I was going to do about it.

  After tonight, seeing him so enthralled with the art, I just couldn’t stop thinking about his face. I wish I’d captured it so I could show him. Should have taken a picture on my phone. I could have done it without him knowing, I was sure.

  “You seem happy tonight,” I said.

  “I think I am,” he replied. “I’d forgotten what it feels like.”

  Fourteen

  Brooks

  I took three whole days off the next week. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done that. Seriously. I spent one entire day with Remi and she took me shopping for art supplies and out for wings and beer.

  The other two days I spent working. I drove around and found whatever inspired me, set up an easel, or got a chair, and drew or painted until I w
as so exhausted that I crashed into bed at night. I hadn’t contacted the woman at the gallery yet, but I was mentally getting there. I also sucked it up and opened an Etsy store. I found a company that could do prints of my work from digital images, so all I had to do was scan them and then submit the images. I figured if I made a little money, I could give some of it to my parents and help out. Even a little bit would be something. Plus, I could figure out if anyone would actually buy my damn art.

  I wasn’t going to use or sell any of the drawings I’d done of Remi. Definitely not. That would mean I’d have to tell her about them and then she would know that I was totally and completely in love with her. Now would be the absolute worst timing for her to figure that out. I wanted to tell her, but not until she was ready, and she definitely wasn’t.

  The platonic thing was working... sort of. Sometimes I had to practically sit on my hands not to touch her, and not kissing her when she was just so damn cute was a Herculean effort. I hoped it was as bad for her because I was really having a rough time. But I was gonna do it because if I held out, then maybe, maybe, things would work out between us.

  I’d thought that my brothers and sister would hate me for asking them to work more hours, but no one said anything about it at dinner on Sunday. Things between Avery and me were still a little tense and we hadn’t really talked since the day when he’d stormed out of the store. We were going to have to make up eventually because it stressed Mom and Dad out when any of us were fighting with each other. In general, we didn’t fight a lot, but when we did, it was generally pretty intense.

  “Hey, do you want to come out on the porch with me?” he said as I was helping clear the dishes from the table. Falyn, Ezra and Callan had already bailed and Dasen had brought Pearl over, so Mom and Dad were in the living room with the two of them. I could hear Pearl giggling over everything else.

  I looked up at Avery. He didn’t look like he wanted to punch the shit out of me and he’d never do that here, so I figured I was safe.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, setting the dishes down.

  “Hug it out,” Grayson said, giving us both a thumbs up. I messed his hair up as I walked by him.

  I sat down on one of the chairs on the porch and Avery chose to stand.