[Barley Cross 01.0] Being Brooke

by Emma Hart

  I grab the bat and stand up. I’ve never actually had to use this thing before on account of the fact I’ve never lived alone, so I don’t actually know what to do with it.

  Do I hold it by my side? In front of me like a gun? Do I wave it around like a nunchuck or something?

  I rest it up on my shoulder and quietly open my bedroom door. Aside from the gentle light from my TV, the rest of my apartment is in complete darkness. My stomach flips repeatedly as I pad my bare feet across my hallway carpet. I can’t hear a thing from the heavy beating of my heart in my ears. It thunders and echoes through my consciousness with every step I take.

  “Fuck!”

  I scream and swing the bat blindly in the darkness.

  “Fuck, Brooke! What the hell?”

  Ohmygod. Cain!

  “Oh my god!” I drop the bat to the floor, whacking my foot with it, and cry out again. “Ow, ow, ow! Dirty motherfucking slut, that hurt!”

  “Shit.”

  There’s some slapping of a hand against the wall and then the small area floods with light. I blink harshly as my eyes struggle to adjust to the immediate onslaught of yellow light, but after a second, I’m okay.

  Aside from my foot.

  “What the fuck,” he breathes, “are you doing swinging a fucking baseball bat around in the darkness?”

  “I thought you were a burglar! Owwww!” I whine, collapsing against the wall and grabbing my foot. “I think my foot is broken.”

  “Oh, fucking hell.” He comes toward me and loops his arm around my waist. “It’s not broken. Probably bruised. Serves you right for coming at me with a baseball bat, you crazy bitch.”

  “I thought you were a burglar,” I protest, hopping with his help.

  He guides me into my bedroom, avoiding looking at my mess of clothes all over the floor, and sits me on my bed. “I was asleep on your sofa, apparently. How could you forget that?”

  “I don’t know.” I lift my foot onto my thigh and lightly rub it. “I woke up when I heard a thud. I forgot. I was sleepy.”

  He turns on my bedside lamp before he raises his shoulders and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I banged my foot when I tried to get up. Then I walked into the sofa. It’s hard navigating your maze in the dark.”

  “Why didn’t you use—right. You didn’t bring your phone.”

  Cain shakes his head. “I really was trying to get out without waking you. Sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I put my foot down, the harsh sting now barely an ache. He’s right. Not broken. “I should have woken you and not left you to sleep.”

  “You’re telling me.” He rubs the side of his neck. “My neck is burning like a bitch.”

  “Sorry.” I grimace. “What time is it?”

  “Almost two in the morning according to your microwave. I was trying to go home.”

  “You—what? No.” I grab my phone from the nightstand and look at it. Yep. Just before five to two in the morning. “You can’t go home at this time. Just stay here.”

  He hesitates, and while he does, I can’t help but stare at him. Sure, I’m sleepy. I’m delusional at best. But oh my god, he looks handsome. His hair is a mess, sticking up at all angles, and his eyes are full of a sleepy, cloudy haze. Not to mention his lips are slightly swollen as if he’s been rubbing them in his sleep.

  “I can’t stay here,” he says after a moment, standing up and shoving his hands into his pocket. “You haven’t made your spare room up yet.”

  I’ve barely made my bedroom up yet, but whatever.

  He’s right. I know he’s right. He can’t sleep on the sofa, and if I offer, he’ll tell me no. But he also can’t go home now, because it’s the middle of the freaking night. So I say as much.

  “It’s the middle of the night. You can’t go home right now.”

  “My cars parked right outside the door to the building.” He shrugs and takes a step back. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Cain Elliott, if you go home right now, I’m going to hire a hit man to take you out.”

  He quirks a brow. “Stop me.”

  I throw myself at him as he darts to the door. I catch him in time and jump onto his back. I wrap myself around him the way a toddler clings to their mom’s leg their first time at daycare drop off. “No.”

  He staggers back, laughing huskily, and wraps his hands around my forearms. “All right, all right, I get it. Don’t go out in case the boogeyman might get me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But that doesn’t solve the problem of where I’m sleeping. And can you get off me before you strangle me?”

  I hit his chest and slide down his back. “Well, um. I can take the sofa.”

  “No.”

  I sigh and sit on my bed. “Keep your clothes on and your hands to yourself and you can sleep in here with me.”

  He jerks his face toward me. I can’t read his expression at all.

  “What?” I say.

  “Okay, but you need to put on a bra.”

  I throw my arms up. “Have you tried sleeping in one of those? Isn’t it bad enough that the underwires try to kill me during the day? Do you hate me so much I need to suffer that horror in my sleep too?”

  “You are the most dramatic person I’ve ever met,” he says slowly.

  “You wanna wear a bra and feel my pain?”

  “Not really.” He smirks. “Fine, don’t put on a bra, but I’m not sleeping in my jeans.”

  This is going from bad to worse.

  I swallow. “Fine. But look.” I roll over onto my knees and arrange the bed so the pillows are as far apart as they can possibly be. Then I get up and grab a clean towel from the top of my dresser. I roll it up into a long sausage and shove it in the middle, under the covers. “Your side. My side. Stay there.”

  He holds his hands up as he walks around the bed. “I’m not the starfisher here.”

  “Carry on and you can go home.”

  “In case it escaped your notice, Sherlock Holmes, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “Shut up and get into bed. But keep your pants on until the light is off. I don’t want to see that.” Lies. I do want to see it. I totally want to see it.

  Like, badly.

  Cain rolls his eyes so hard I swear I can hear them rattling inside his eye sockets.

  I shove myself under the covers and turn off my lamp on the nightstand. The room is one again bathed in only the hazy light from the television. I leave it on until I hear the light swish of his jeans hitting the floor. The bed dips right as I press the power button on the remote control, but when I go to put it back on the nightstand, I miss. It falls to the floor with a gentle thud.

  “Crap,” I mutter.

  Cain chuckles.

  “Shut it.” I tug the covers right up under my chin and roll onto my side, putting my back to him. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I no longer feel tired.

  I’m all too aware of Cain’s warm body, separated from me by no more than a rolled-up bath towel. Still, that doesn’t stop the heat from him coming across the covers and the bed sheet. Doesn’t stop me knowing that he’s right there, within touching distance.

  I press my face into my pillow. I need to stop thinking about him. I need to stop thinking about the fact he’s right here and so close to me, or I’m not going to go to sleep. Arghhh. Why did I tell him to sleep here? Why didn’t I send him home?

  “Brooke?” Cain whispers.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is it wrong that I don’t feel bad about today?”

  I roll onto my back and look up at the ceiling. “Breaking up with Nina? No. You obviously made the right choice if you feel okay.”

  The mattress moves as he does, and the towel nudges me as he lies on his back too. “I thought I’d at least feel bad.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Lighter,” he answers. “It sounds awful, but if she calls me tomorrow, I know I don’t have to answer it. I don’t have to do shit I don’t want to do anymore.”

  “
Like build my entertainment unit.” I turn my head toward him with a grin on my face.

  “Like build your damn entertainment unit,” he agrees, flashing me the smallest of smiles. “You don’t have any other dumb furniture to build, do you?”

  “Um. No?”

  He sighs. “You don’t sound so sure about that. What else do you need me to build?”

  “I have a bookcase, a bathroom cabinet, and a dresser for my bedroom.”

  “B, you already have a dresser in here.”

  “I know that.” I kick my foot to the side and connect with his ankle. “It’s the one for the spare bedroom. Where else am I supposed to put my clothes until I get the new one in here?”

  “Judging by their current home, the floor,” he drawls.

  “Shut your face. You don’t have to build anything.” I play with a loose thread on the cover. “I’m sure me and Carly can do it.”

  He shudders, vibrating the bed. “No, fuck no. If you and Carly try to build a dresser, you’ll create a portal to another world or something. Or you’ll just break it and call me anyway.”

  He might be onto something there. Carly and I aren’t exactly known for our building skills. I proved that already, after all.

  “Okay. I promise I’ll do better to feed you next time.” I pull the covers back up. “Are you really sure you feel okay?”

  “I swear, I’m fine. It’s like I’ve lost ten pounds.”

  “I have some spare if you want them back.”

  He laughs, shaking the entire bed. “If you lost ten pounds someone could snap you like a twig.”

  “I’d need to lose at least twenty-five for that.”

  “Brooke Barker, if you lose twenty-five pounds you don’t need to lose, I’m going to force-feed you cake and pizza until you put it all back on again.”

  I snort. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Being an idiot doesn’t change the fact I think you’re perfect the way you are.” He pauses, and my heart beats right out of my chest. “As long as you don’t swing a baseball bat at me again.”

  “Don’t bang around my apartment in the dark next time and I won’t.” I skip right over the whole ‘perfect’ thing, even if my heart isn’t able to do it because it’s going crazy. And my stomach is flipping, loop-the-looping over and over again.

  It was a flippant comment. I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact I’ll probably still be sighing into my fucking breakfast over it next week.

  “You got it. Night, Brooke.” He rolls over again.

  “Night, Cain,” I reply softly, not moving, still staring up into the darkness, my heart echoing his words around my body with every beat.

  My alarm blares out of my phone on the nightstand, rousing me fully from my awkward half-sleep state.

  There’s a person on top of me.

  Well, not on top of me. Behind me. Against me. With an arm on top of me. And a foot.

  Oh my god, Cain!

  I freeze. His arm and foot aren’t the only things invading my personal space.

  Holy shit. Someone radio Houston because we have a problem. A big problem. And it’s poking into my lower back right now.

  What do I do? Do I get up and pretend I didn’t feel it? Do I lie here and pretend—no, I can’t pretend to be asleep. I just turned off my annoying alarm. What if he heard it?

  Oh god, is he awake too? Is he wondering what I’m going to do? Is he pretending he’s asleep and waiting for me to move?

  Dear god, they don’t show you this in the movies! Or the books. Two hundred books on my Kindle and of the ones I’ve read, none of them show you what to do when you wake up with your best friend’s hard cock pressing against your back.

  It’s bigger than I thought it’d be.

  Jesus, self! It’s not a fucking birthday cake! Nor should I be contemplating the size of Cain’s cock.

  Now I am though, aren’t I? Yep.

  How much of it is touching me? Wait, how long is an inch? Can I figure out exactly how long it is right now? An inch is like half a thumb, right?

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  It’s a good seven inches. For sure. Maybe more.

  Shit my life!

  “Brooke?” Cain says from behind me. “You can relax. I’m not going to whip my cock out and hit you with it.”

  “Oh my god!” I shove the sheets back and jump out of the bed. My cheeks are flaming, and I wrap my arms around my midsection as I turn to face him. “You knew I was awake and you lay there anyway?”

  He grins, propping himself up on his elbow. “I was going to move, but then you froze, and I couldn’t resist messing with you.”

  I give him my hardest glare. “You’re such an asshole! And you violated the towel!”

  He collapses onto his back, laughing his ass off. “You think I deliberately did that? It was a towel, not a fucking brick wall.”

  “But it poked me!” I point in the general area of his groin. “Did it have to poke me?”

  He shrugs and sits up. “I told you to put a bra on.”

  “Cain!”

  “What do you want me to say, B? I can’t control where the blood in my body goes when I’m sleep. I’m sorry my morning erection alarmed you, but it’s no scarier than your cooking.”

  How is he not embarrassed right now?

  “You’re cute when you blush.” He grins, his eyes sparkling.

  “I am not blushing!” I shout, totally blushing. I slap my hands against my cheeks and run out of the room and to the bathroom. I slam the door behind me, lock it, and lean against it.

  Oh god, oh god, oh god.

  I should have just gotten out of bed. I’m twenty-four, for goodness sakes. I’m not seventeen. It’s not the first erection I’ve felt. It’s just…Cain’s.

  And I feel…warmer…than I should. Down there. In my vagina.

  I clench my thighs together as an ache throbs through my clit.

  Oh my god, my genitals are slutty.

  This isn’t okay. I can be attracted to him, but being turned on at the mere feeling of his erection at my back is a step too far. Isn’t it? Yes. No. Yes. No. Fuck it!

  “Brooke?” Cain knocks on the door. “Are you hiding from me?”

  “No!” I say too loudly. “I’m peeing!”

  “Uh-huh. Right behind the door?”

  “Shit!” I push off it.

  He knocks again. “Open the door, B.”

  “No. I’m not sure I can ever look at you again.” Because if I do, I might jump you.

  “You still trying to tell me you aren’t hiding or blushing?”

  “I’m hiding! I’m hiding and I’m embarrassed!” I shout, cheeks flushing yet again. “I’m not coming out until you leave.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Cain! Just go!”

  If you don’t, I might just lose my mind and tell you exactly why you need to go.

  “All right,” he says in a low voice. “But when I call you later, you better answer, or I’m gonna show up wearing nothing.”

  “Fine. Now go. Please.” I really wish my cheeks would stop burning now.

  It’s not that I’m a prude. I’m the furthest thing from being a prude. I don’t even think it’s just that it’s Cain and Cain’s cock. It’s because I wasn’t expecting to wake up and get a good morning from Cain’s cock.

  A couple of minutes later, my front door opens and closes as he leaves.

  I let go of a long, shuddery breath and move toward the sink. I grab the edge of it and lean forward, looking at myself in the mirror. My cheeks really are a light reddish color, and my eyes are shining brighter than I’ve seen them in a long time.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Brooke Alice Barker, you complete and utter fool.

  I splash cold water on my face. Then I brush my teeth, and when I’m done, I head for the door and unlock it. I run my fingers through my hair and turn toward my bedroom.

  “Brooke.”

  I scream and jump backwards. “
For the love of fucking god!” I flatten myself against the wall and press my hands against my stomach. Then I throw myself toward him. “Don’t. Do. That. Again!” I hit his chest with every word before taking a step back. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

  He holds his hands up. Just when I think he’s going to walk away, he grabs my arms and pulls me toward him. I squeak as my body collides with his and I grab his shirt. He doesn’t move his hands from my arms. In fact, he slides them up to my shoulders and even further until he’s cupping my neck.

  Cain dips his head and pushes my hair away from my ear. His hot breath tickles my skin when he lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “Look in the mirror, Brooke. You’re a mess, but you’re a fucking gorgeous mess. There’s a reason I didn’t want to stay, and that’s it. Don’t blame me for waking up with a raging hard-on when you’ve been lying next to me in bed for six hours.”

  I swallow, desperately trying to alleviate the dryness in my mouth. That I was not expecting. What was I expecting? I don’t damn well know, but not that.

  “I don’t know how to reply to that.” My fingers twitch, my grip tightening on his shirt, if only a little. “At all.”

  He blows out a long breath and rests his cheek against the side of my head.

  I close my eyes. Keeping my breathing steady is getting harder and harder. I just want to lean into him and bury my face into his t-shirt and let my heart go crazy.

  I don’t want to have to hold onto these emotions anymore.

  “Fucking hell.” Cain kisses the side of my head. Then he releases me and walks across my apartment and right out of the door.

  I stare after him, my stomach curling up into a sick, tight ball, and fall back against the wall.

  I should have hit him with the baseball bat, shouldn’t I?

  TWELVE

  LIFE TIP #12: Love sucks harder than a hooker in front of a gloryhole.

  I take the ball the Devil Dog drops in front of me and wince as slobber coats my fingers. Delilah wags her tail at one hundred miles per hour, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, waiting for me to throw it.