Page 52 of Until We're More
Brooklyn let that hang in the air for a moment, but I could tell she had an opinion, and when she said it, there wasn’t a note of doubt or hesitation. “You push for more.”
“Easy for you to say. I bet you knew from the beginning that Shane wanted more.”
She opened her mouth and then gave a sheepish shrug. “Doesn’t mean it was easy. There were a lot of complications.”
“I just don’t think Liam sees me that way.”
“And I think he does—I’m sure of it, actually.”
“But he’s never told you that, has he?” I held my breath as I waited for the answer.
“He’s never told me anything, ever,” she said. “That would involve discussing feelings, and he pretends he doesn’t have any. But they’re there, Chelsea. I know they are.”
Hope called to me, my heart skipping a couple beats, but hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not after two nights where I’d put myself out there without gaining anything in return. “I needhimto know they are. Otherwise, I just can’t risk it.”
Brooklyn sighed. “We need to find the right motivator. Like, maybe a little jealousy? Not that I’d normally encourage manipulating my brother’s feelings, but with Liam, I think we’re gonna have to force them out of him.”
“I’ve already gone on a date with another guy. He doesn’t care—in fact, he encouraged me to get his phone number.”
“Describe said guy.”
“Nice. Likes to read.” I’d texted Kevin a couple times this week, and when he asked if he could take me out last night, I’d almost said yes. But then I felt like I was using him, so I gave him a whole speech about how I was leaving in three weeks and thought maybe we should stick to friends. I’d meant to try harder, but I shouldn’t have to force myself to get excited about a guy, and while I was living with Liam, the long and short of it was that no one else stood a chance.
“So, scrawny,” Brooklyn said.
“No, he’s…” I pictured him, and between that and the skepticism that filled Brooklyn’s features, I gave in. “Okay, yeah, he’s scrawny. Isn’t everyone compared to your brother, though?”
“Good point. But I think in order for him to get over his stubborn self, he needs a bigger wake-up jolt. Show him how much competition he’s going to be up against if he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass.” She sat forward, her blue eyes lighting with a type of mischief that automatically sent trepidation through me, yet made me curious and a touch excited at the same time. “I have a crazy idea, so I guess it depends how badly you want to get his attention.”
Apparently we’d reached desperate territory, because a sense of urgency flooded my body. We were almost halfway through my time here. “I need to know if there’s even a part of him that’s attracted to me. If I legitimately have a chance for more. Will your plan show me that?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m in.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chelsea
Characteristically, my family had chosen today of all days to guilt me into coming over. I was already nervous about what Brooklyn had talked me into doing at the fight tonight, with a pinch of skittish excitement and a dash of optimism mixed in.
Bonus, it would definitely count toward my being bolder than I ever had been, and it also scared the shit out of me. By the end of this trip, I’d have iron balls—or iron boobs, I guess. Yeah, like a Wonder Woman breastplate. Take your best shot and it’ll bounce right off me.
Now if I could get myself to truly believe that, maybe I’d be ready for whatever faced me inside my mom and stepdad’s house.
I took a deep, fortifying breath and walked through the front door. “Mom? It’s me.”
She hollered from the living room, which meant she was in her beat-up recliner and most likely had been all day. As soon as I stepped into the room, she pursed her lips. “I thought you were going to be around more while you were in town. You haven’t stopped by since you picked up your cat.”
“I’m sorry,” I automatically said, not bothering to point out I’d tried to make up for my absence by having that dinner delivered last week, just like she hadn’t bothered to acknowledge I’d sent it. “I’ve been really busy.”
“I thought you were going to do the laundry, too.”
Yep, you did, even though I never agreed to that.“Not since I have a different place to stay.”
“With that Roth boy. You know, he’ll always just look at you as the poor girl from next door.”
While I wanted to insist that wasn’t true, my gut still pinched with the worry that I’d always be a pity project to him. The girl whose own family saw her as an inconvenience unless she was doing something for them.
