[Barley Cross 01.0] Being Brooke

by Emma Hart

  “Should I write a dirty joke or two in this section, boy?” Grandpa asks, grasping the arm of his glasses and leaning toward the screen. “I don’t want any of these prudes hitting on me.”

  “The first line of your bio is expressing your love for jokes and the dirtier the better,” Cain says. “I’m really not sure you’re going to attract any…prudes.”

  “Get out of here. Look at me. I’m dang handsome, me. I’m gonna attract ‘em all. Even the whippersnappers.”

  Yep. No. This is not a good idea. Not at all.

  “Maybe we should see how people take your profile first.” Cain’s choosing his words very carefully now. “Besides, jokes are like penises. They’re not always appreciated.”

  He darts a glance my way.

  Grandpa catches it. He puts his arm on the back of the chair and spins right around to look at me. He fixes me with his light brown gaze before turning it to Cain. “What’sa matter, boy? She catch a sight of it and not like it?”

  Cain opens his mouth to answer.

  Grandpa cuts him off, looking at me. “What was it? A wee cocktail sausage?” He accompanies that with a wiggle of his pinky finger. “Wee willy winky!”

  I bite the inside of my cheek as the laughter boils up inside me.

  Grandpa leans toward Cain and wiggles his baby finger again.

  Cain gently moves his hand away. “Turn around, James. Or I’m going to add another three inches to your height and then the ladies will know you’re overcompensating.”

  That sobers Grandpa. If there’s anything that stops his ridiculousness, it’s people threatening what Cain just did. There’s nothing the old man hates more than the thought of women thinking he’s smaller than he is.

  Actually, that logic probably applies to the younger man with him too.

  Cain leans into Grandpa’s side and whispers something.

  Grandpa snorts which leads into a dirty chuckle. “You’re right, boy. She wouldn’t know what to do with a real penis.”

  “Hey!” I sit up. “I know what to do with a real penis!”

  They both turn with raised eyebrows. “Really,” Grandpa asks. “Because I haven’t seen you with one for at least two years.”

  “Just because I don’t date much doesn’t mean I don’t know how to slice someone’s dick off with a blunt knife.”

  Cain winces. “Please don’t.”

  I shoot him a look that says “You deserve it, you assdonkey,” but I don’t say anything.

  He clearly gets the message because he turns back to Grandpa and says, “Let’s finish this.”

  One hour later, they’re finally done.

  I stumble out of Grandpa’s apartment block and lean against Cain’s car. “That was the most traumatizing experience of my entire life.”

  He laughs, pressing the button on his keys to unlock the car. It beeps. “I have to admit,” he says slowly, “seeing him trawl the website for some ’dead hot babes’ was a little unnerving.”

  “No, that was the least unnerving part,” I reply, getting into the car. I wait until he’s sitting before I continue. “The worst part was when he saw Cornelia and declared her boobs the loveliest love mountains this side of the Rockies.”

  Cain shudders. “Yeah, you win. Please don’t ever mention that again.”

  “Cornelia’s love mountains.”

  “You’re sick.”

  “I know.” I grin and pull my seatbelt across my body. I click it into place and say, “Now, take me home. I have a hot date with Netflix.”

  He starts the car. “You know you’re supposed to Netflix and chill with another person, right? Not by yourself.”

  “Who said I’d be by myself?”

  “Battery friends don’t count.”

  I shift in my seat. “Well, you’ve never had that kind of relationship. It’s perfect. Vibrators don’t answer back, yell at me for my lack of cooking skills, or wake me up awkwardly in the morning.”

  “It’s nice to know you value your relationship with your vibrator over your one with me.”

  “I wasn’t done. It does have a downfall. It can’t build things or bring me food when I mess it up. You can do that.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re a loser, B. You know that?”

  I do. I really, really do. “Yeah, but vibrators can’t break my heart, so I’d rather be a loser than heartbroken.”

  “Are you saying I can break your heart?”

  You do. Every time you smile at me.

  I flash him a grin, but my heart isn’t in it. “That would imply I care, and we all know that isn’t true.”

  Cain laughs, throwing his head back a little. “Ah, yes. The great heartless Brooke Barker. The same heartless woman who cries at just about every commercial with a puppy in it.”

  “Look, until you have PMS, you don’t know my life.”

  “Doesn’t count. I have to deal with you when you have PMS. It can’t be worse to have it.”

  “Do you want me to punch you in the balls?”

  “With your fist?”

  “You should get a girlfriend. You’re an asshole when you’re single.”

  He shrugs, turning a corner. “I’m an asshole with a girlfriend. I just can’t be this kind of asshole when I have a girlfriend. But get used to it, B. I don’t plan on getting a girlfriend anytime soon. I think Nina’s scarred me for a while.”

  “Jesus, don’t let that get out.” I shudder. “Last time girls in this town knew you were ready to date, at least eight of them came into work and asked for your number.”

  “Were they hot?”

  “Like the North Pole.”

  “Ooooh, bitchy.”

  I roll my eyes and sit straight in the car. We pass the turn off for my apartment, instead going the way down to the bay. “Where are we going?”

  He glances across the car at me. “You’re not sitting in your apartment all night, moping around. We’re gonna do something fun.”

  “But I didn’t eat yet,” I whine. “I literally walked through the door when you arrived. I barely had time to get changed. I’m so hungry!”

  He mutters something under his breath. “Then I’ll feed you. Come on, B. We haven’t done anything fun in ages.”

  Yeah, well, that’s your own fault for getting a jealous girlfriend. “How likely are we to run into Nina?”

  He pulls into a parking lot a couple of blocks away from Italia and kills the engine. “Dunno. It’s Friday. She always meets her friends on Friday, so I guess there’s a chance.”

  I groan and lean against the door, banging my head against the window. “This isn’t a good idea, Cain. If she sees us together—”

  “It’s none of her fuckin’ business.”

  His hard, cold tone makes me turn my face toward him. His features are set, his brow furrowed, and his jaw tight.

  “Seriously.” He turns to me, his voice softer. “My whole damn relationship with her I had to hide my friendship with you and Carly. Especially you. That’s bullshit, B. I’m not gonna do it anymore. But it’s up to you. We can either go have stupid fun like we used to or I can turn the key and take you home. Your call.”

  My instinct says to take me home, but the look in his eye makes me pause.

  The greenness of his eyes has always been the one thing that makes me stop. And right now, looking into his eyes, I’m doing that exact thing. There’s a myriad of emotions all swirling like crazy, and I know I should tell him to take me home, but something doesn’t want me to do that.

  Something about the indiscernible mess of feelings in his gaze makes me want to stay and do dumb shit with him.

  “Okay, but we’re getting food first.”

  He grins at my words and pulls the key from the ignition. “Okay, let’s get food first. Come on.” He pushes open his car door.

  What am I doing?

  I undo my seatbelt. Then I get out of the car and join Cain as he heads for the exit to the parking lot. From where we are, I can see the start of the seafront
and down onto the bay. The light sea breeze is a welcome respite—kinda—from the sticky heat of the early summer, and I can’t help but glance out at what I can see of the horizon as the sun makes its way toward it.

  “Come on,” Cain says again, grabbing my elbow and steering me down toward the bay. “Let’s get fries.”

  “Chili cheese fries?”

  “Would I dare suggest anything else?”

  I nudge him with my elbow and smile up at him. “I need to learn to cook. This diet isn’t good for my ass.”

  Cain stops.

  I walk a few paces before I do the same thing and turn around. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s not bad for your ass,” he says, shrugging. “Just so you know.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Did you seriously stop just to look at my ass?”

  He stretches his arms out, walking again. “How am I supposed to offer a real response to your comment if I don’t know whether it’s bad for it or not?”

  “You’re way more of a perv when you’re single.” I brush my hair out of my face and catch up with him. “Are the fries from Zander’s?”

  “Do you want the fries to be from Zander’s?”

  “Well, yeah. He gives me extra.”

  Cain scoffs. “Only because he has a crush on you. You exploit that.”

  “Am I not supposed to?”

  He looks down at me, a small smile teasing his mouth. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but just in case you are, probably not, no. You already exploit the shit out of me.”

  I flick my hair over my shoulder. “It’s not my fault I was born cute. Or that you’re easily exploitable.”

  He laughs and side-hugs me, never breaking stride. “You’ll be the president one day with that attitude.”

  “Ha! Like that’ll ever happen. I’d trip over walking up to the podium every time I had to campaign.” I tuck my hands in the ass pockets of my shorts. “And I’d probably fall onto the button for nuclear bombs one day. That wouldn’t be good.”

  “You’re right.” He flicks his finger against my ear, making me jerk away. “That would be a fucking disaster. Could you imagine the shitshow this country would turn into if you were in charge?”

  I actually think I’d make a good president. My first act in office would be to make Taco Tuesday a legit weekly holiday.

  We stop in Zander’s Diner. It’s not what you’d call ‘cute,’ and it’s definitely retro, but not your stereotypical fifties diner. No, Zander’s father—also named Alexander and shortened to Zander—is a huge fan of the nineties. God only knows why, and the man himself doesn’t seem to be able to explain it either.

  Regardless, the diner is decorated in just about everything nineties you can think of, and the music is a constant loop of cheesy pop and even cheesier R&B.

  I cannot stand to eat inside this place. Luckily for me, Cain knows this, and goes straight to the counter to order while I hang back by the door. The music is quieter here, and thank god, because I don’t want to spice up my life, thanks.

  I spice it up enough myself just by waking up. I’m already unpredictable enough. I don’t need help.

  It’s quiet at the take-out counter, and since we’re here before their big rush in the evenings, Cain’s handed two boxes within five minutes of paying. He thanks the girl behind the counter and walks back over to me.

  “Here.” He hands me my box of chili cheese fries before opening the door and holding it for me.

  “Thanks.” I smile over my shoulder as he joins me outside. “Where are we going now?”

  He shrugs. “Anywhere we can sit and eat. Now I’ve got these, I’m hungry.”

  “What did you get? The same as me?”

  Cain nods. “Yep. Let’s go down to the beach.”

  We cross the street, only narrowly making it before a car comes speeding around the corner, and head for the little gate that leads to the small set of stairs.

  Although the beach stretches almost the entire length of Barley Cross, we’re at the wrong end of town for the better entrances. Which isn’t a bad thing. The teens and all the people that will really annoy me will be at the other end of the beach, which means it’ll be quiet for us.

  We learned that as teenagers ourselves. Don’t stick with the crowd, because that’s where the cops are likely to catch you drinking. Go down the quiet end and you’ll just look like a small group of teenagers drinking your Diet Coke.

  Wink, wink.

  I step onto the sand after Cain and immediately pull off my shoes. There’s nothing worse than walking on soft sand with shoes on, and I don’t want to walk on the wet sand since my ballerina pumps are white.

  “Okay,” I say, climbing up onto one of the giant rocks with a flatter top. “All we need is vodka in bottles of Diet Coke and we’d really be doing this right.”

  Cain laughs and climbs up next to me. His arm brushes mine as he gets comfortable, and even when he is, his thigh is still pressing against mine. “Damn it. Why didn’t we think of that?”

  “Because you have to drive, moron.”

  “True. Although we could have just called my mom. Or Zeke.”

  I lean to the side and look at him. “Okay, I was kidding. We don’t actually need to be sixteen again. And Zeke would be a waste of time anyway. He always ended up drinking with us.”

  “True,” he says as I open my box of fries.

  Mmmm. They just smell so damn good.

  We both eat in silence for a couple of minutes. Although I’m focused on watching the waves slowly creep up the beach from a good couple of miles out, I’m very aware of the heat of his leg against mine. His jean shorts cut off below his knee, whereas mine are much higher up. Every now and then our lower legs collide, mostly because I’m completely incapable of sitting still. The coarse hair on his legs keeps rubbing against mine, tickling my skin.

  I shiver as his leg knocks against mine for the third time in at least thirty seconds. He chuckles from next to me, and if he didn’t have a box of food, I’d get him back for it. The ass is doing it deliberately.

  “I think you have more food than me,” I tell him, peering into his box.

  “You jealous?”

  “Of more food? Yeah. Obviously.”

  He laughs and shoves three fries into his mouth. “Do you want to know what we’re doing next?”

  My phone rings in my pocket.

  “Hold on.” I pass him my box and dig my phone out. Grandpa. Oh no. “Hey, Grandpa. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a date!” He sings down the phone. “I told her the Boeing joke!”

  “Oh no. Not the cockpit one.”

  “Yes, that one!”

  Cain’s upper body shakes. He’s laughing silently. No doubt it’s at what is clearly a look of absolute horror on my face.

  “What did she say?” I ask him slowly.

  “She asked for my number. Now we’re sexting.”

  I cough. “You’re sexting a woman you just met online?”

  “I am! And I tell you what, Brookey, if I thought Cornelia had nice love moun—”

  “Crap! My phone’s dying! Sorry, Grandpa. Gotta go!” I hang up.

  Then I stare at my phone.

  “Did he just say he was sexting?”

  FOURTEEN

  LIFE TIP #14: Lips are made for kissing. and Don’t go on a haunted house tour with someone who really hates you.

  “Yes,” I answer Cain slowly. “Yes, he’s currently sexting a woman he met online.” I turn to face him. “I’m a little afraid.”

  Cain blinks at me. “I’m kinda proud of him. Good for him.”

  “Good for him?” I shove my phone back in my pocket and take my food. “Cain, he’s seventy-five. He should not be sexting anyone!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s old.”

  “You’re only as old as the woman you feel.”

  I blink at him. A lot.

  “Got somethin’ in your eye?” He grins wide. “Co
me on, B. He’s lonely.”

  “I told you earlier. He isn’t lonely. He has tons of friends.” I huff and stick a handful of fries into my mouth. Literally a handful.

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t lonely,” he says reasonably. “Maybe he wants something more. We all know none of the old chicks in the apartments are gonna give him what he wants.”

  “That’s because he shouldn’t want what he wants. He’s a sex-mad maniac.”

  “He’s a man. What are you gonna do about it?”

  I roll my eyes. “I couldn’t deal with as many people as he does.”

  “Well.” Cain does his box up and drops it onto the sand in front of him.

  I hand him mine and he does the same, letting it fall down. I jump down from the rock and lean back against it. “Well what?”

  Cain drops to his feet and turns his entire body toward me. “You’d be able to deal with people a bit better if you actually tried to like them.”

  “True… but there’s just one problem with that.”

  “Which is?” He raises one dark eyebrow, his eyes bright and intent on mine.

  I exhale heavily, holding his gaze and grinning. “Liking people takes a lot of energy. I’d rather use that energy for other things. Like eating four tacos and drinking an entire bottle of wine.”

  He smirks one of those dirty, teasing smirks. “Of course. Although I agree. I’d rather use that energy for other things too.”

  Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Like what?”

  He takes one step toward me. “This.”

  He frames my face with his hands and leans in before I can stop him. Right as my eyes flutter shut of their own accord, Cain’s lips find mine.

  They’re warm and taste like spice. He smells like spice. Like spice and sea air and sand.

  His body is all but pressing me back against the rock. I can’t breathe, because I’m not sure I can fully comprehend what’s happening right now.

  Until he pulls away.

  Nope.

  I lean forward, into him, and into that soft kiss. Into his soft kiss. I don’t want him to pull away. Not yet. Even if he’s regretting it right now, I want to keep his mouth on mine just a few seconds longer so I can commit this all to memory.