Page 61 of Chasing Forever
Brooks picks it up. “You slapped it on my wrist when I was in the third grade, and it made me bleed. You called me a baby when I got upset. It was the first time I wanted to kiss you.”
“In the third grade?”
He chuckles. “Hey… don’t judge.”
I lift my hand dramatically, then pick up the triple 7s slot machine. “Easy. Vegas.” I drop it down below the slap bracelet. “What could the soda glass bottle be?”
Brooks looks embarrassed, and it takes me a second before I realize what the memory is.
“You wrote down the spin-the-bottle kiss in the seventh grade?” I remember playing. There were so many of us cousins we’d always have to spin again to get someone we weren’t related to.
“I cherish that memory.”
I laugh. “It was a horrible kiss. You were all slobbery, and I was barely opening my mouth.”
His forehead wrinkles. “It was my first kiss. Give me a break.”
I cling to the picture as if it’s actually the same bottle. “Uhh… I was your first kiss?”
He leans in to give me a chaste kiss. “And hopefully my last.”
Jennie comes on the speaker. “No kissing until the end, this isn’t a porno.”
“Damn,” Brooks whispers.
I lean forward and lower my voice. “You were mine too.”
“Really?” he asks. “I thought for sure you’d already kissed a bunch of guys with how much you guys played. I remember when you asked me and Ben to join, I was so nervous I was going to be a bad kisser.”
“You were.” I laugh.
He pouts.
“But you’re much better now.”
Brooks grins. “You too.”
I smile, a little stunned. “That’s so weird. I had forgotten that until right now.”
I place the picture of the soda glass bottle under the slap bracelet, but Brooks picks up the balloon image and sandwiches it between the two.
“What’s the balloon?”
“Fourth of July. You had a white T-shirt on, and I purposely threw it at you. You got so mad you poured an entire bucket of water on me.”
Jennie makes a sound over the speaker as if she’s disgusted.
“I was a horny kid going through puberty, cut me some slack,” Brooks says toward the ceiling.
“You’re asking for a lot of slack, Sheriff,” Jennie says.
“I feel like our lives have woven together so much, it’s hard to remember the key moments.” I stare at the board, overwhelmed by how tightly our histories have braided together over the years. “You did a great job, Brooks.” Jennie clears her throat like she deserves the credit, but I ignore her, picking up the ripped wedding invitation. “Our wedding?”
He shakes his head. “It’s torn.”
I tilt my head, and he tips his head down, staring at the floor. Brooks avoiding eye contact tells me he’s avoiding something, which isn’t like him.
“I really didn’t think this through,” he says.
