Page 18 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
I’ve never really understood that part of her. One, I don’t get how my little sister manages to get asked out so many times—and it’s never her doing the asking—and two, how does she not get tired of being out with people all the time? It’s going to be hard enough for me to share my space with Jordan for the next two and a half days (though, he’s a special sort of frustration all on his own), and I can’t imagine having to be that social all the time. Then again, Micah is the most outgoing of my siblings, and she seems to love being the center of strangers’ attention.
“Look,” Jordan says, bringing my attention back to him. “You can tell me to keep my nose out of your business, but I promise this guy would be an idiot to not fall in love with you the moment he spends any amount of time with you outside of work. But he’s also a guy, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea to help him out a bit.”
While I appreciate the surprising but vague compliment, I’m not sure I like where he’s going with this. “Help him out how?”
He grins. “I think it’s time I gave you some lessons in flirting, Queens.”
Chapter Seven
Jordan
I might be an idiot.Okay, no, there’s nomightin this. I’m just an idiot, plain and simple. While this isn’t exactly news to me, it doesn’t mean I’m cool with the idea, especially because I’ve just dug myself a massive hole that I’m not going to enjoy scrambling out of.
The text I got from Houston a few minutes ago tells me this isn’t going to end well.
Houston: I’m breaking about a million rules to tell you this in the middle of a game, and hopefully it goes without saying, but keep your hands to yourself, Torres.
He’s literally in a World Series game and texting me from the dugout. He may not have told me anything like this in high school, but it seems Houston is not above being direct. I know it’s just his protective side making an appearance, and no one cares about Brooklyn more than he does. But I have to wonder why he decided that now was the moment to tell me something like this, fourteen years after the day I first met her.
Outside of showing her that I’m not the same guy she knew in high school, I had no intentions of doing anything with Brooklyn beyond hanging out and being her mode of transportation, but for some reason Houston thinks I might do otherwise. I’m pretty sure if I tried to make a move, Brooklyn would punch me, and I’m too pretty for a broken nose.
I snort a laugh at my own comment because calling myself pretty is as ridiculous as imagining Brooklyn punching someone. I only realize my mistake when I remember I was in the middle of a conversation with Brooklyn.
And I just offered to teach her to flirt.
Probably shouldn’t make her think I’m laughing at that, but it’s clearly too late.
She scowls at me, a maelstrom forming in her expression. “What’s so funny,Daniel? You think I can’t flirt?”
“Oh, I know you can flirt. You had half the baseball team in love with you.” And it drove Houston crazy. The number of guys he threatened when he caught wind of their interest was astounding. Don’t get me wrong—Houston isn’t some macho control-freak who scared away all of Brooklyn’s prospects. He—we—scared away the ones we knew were jerks, who only went after Brooklyn because she was Houston’s sister. Guys like her boyfriend, Garrett Butler, who ignored all of Houston’s warnings and dated her anyway.
At least until he got bored and wanted to have a makeout session or worse with his vice president.
I clear my throat before Brooklyn can argue my claim about the team being into her, like I know she will. “Your problem is—”
“Myproblem?”
“You have no idea how to flirton purpose. Remember when you were into the new kid? TJ?”
She swallows, as if the memory leaves a bad taste in her mouth. “I have vague recollections,” she admits slowly, which means she absolutely remembers that disaster. “His eyebrows eventually grew back.”
I laugh. “You forgot you were holding alitpropane torch and tried to smooth his hair back at the Fourth of July barbecue. How do you even forget something like that?”
“I was nervous!”
“And you should probably remember the many Bunsen burners you have in your classroom when you prepare yourself for a conversation with Matt.”
“Mark.”
“Isn’t that what I said?” See, this is why I’m an idiot. It is way too easy to fall back into old patterns of driving her absolutely crazy. I tease people by nature, but with Brooklyn’s vindictive side, she makes it all too fun. And teaching her to flirt? That’s like giving myself a veritable buffet of teasing fodder, especially if this Mark guy is as much of a pre-chewed piece of gum as I fear he is.
For all the attention Brooklyn gets, she only ever goes for the jerks. I never asked Houston for details about the guys she’s dated over the last decade, but knowing she’s been single for the last few years after a consistent stream of relationships, I’d guess she has probably taken some emotional hits in her dating life. Houston didn’t like any of her boyfriends, which is telling enough. He likes most people.
Let’s hope this math teacher is up to snuff. I may be the least qualified person to give her dating advice, considering what I did to my last relationship, but Brooklyn deserves the best. If I can help even a little, I’m going to do it.
“What are these flirting lessons going to look like, exactly?” Brooklyn asks, narrowing her eyes at me as she sips her soda. The fact that she hasn’t shut me down makes me wonder how out of practice she really is.
A sense of unease settles in my stomach now that I’m starting to have a chance to really think about this, so I get to my feet to put some distance between us. Heading into the kitchen, I grab some more ice for her ankle as I talk.
