Page 37 of Shutout
Yeah, and I never want to leave. I never did in the first place. I just thought it was what I had to do for my own sake.
“I am,” is all I say.
“Good. Now, let’s take a seat while we wait.” With twogiant steps, Brooke bumps against the edge of his bed and lets himself plop on it. He pats the bedding, in case it’s not clear where I should sit.
I’d have got the hint even if it wasn’t so heavy handed. After all, his desk chair is loaded with what seems like clean laundry. At least going by the smell. And there’s literally no other surface than the floor where I could sit.
I even consider it for a moment. I’m not worried about cleanliness because out of the two, the messiest one has always been me. But I worry about what it would say if I choose to sit on the floor rather than next to him.
I join him but still keep a decent distance. “How long do you think it’s gonna take?”
“Hopefully, it’ll be over quickly.” He lifts his shirt to fish for his phone again, accidentally showing a sliver of taut skin. “Hmm, not yet.”
“Is someone giving you updates on what the so-called indecent scene is?”
“Yeah, my man Dane is on it.”
I tuck my hands under my thighs. “Who’s Dane? Your new best friend?”
“He’s my defensive partner.” His eyes immediately catch on what my hands are doing. He knows it’s a nervous tick. “But he can’t replace you, of course.”
“Please, he and your parade of girls have.” I face forward, trying to avoid his knowing gaze, and freeze.
Two giant posters, one of my brother-in-law, and one of my flesh and blood brother, cover the wall by the bathroom. How did I not see them earlier?
“Well, they haven’t.” There’s laughter in his voice now. “And if it makes you feel even better, none of my parade of girls have kissed the crap out of me like you did last weekend.”
I suck in air. Slowly, I turn to him but only so I can delivera punch to his shoulder. It definitely hurts me more. “You are hereby banned from talking about it.”
“Can I think about it?” A corner of his lips lifts.
“No! That’s not what friends do.”
Brooke bobs his head. “But friends do get curious about what their friends are up to so, is that why you decided to come tonight? To see if you could find someone new to make out with?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“But I bet you talk about things like this with Meyer and the others all the time.”
I give him a look. “Yeah, but they’re girls.”
Brooke tilts his head back a bit, as if needing a different vantage to observe me. “Right, and I’m not.”
“Obvio microbio,” I say in Spanish like my mom does when she’s feeling sassy.
He hums from his throat and turns around to face the posters. Max and Aran are in their NHL team uniforms but helmets off. It’s funny because Max was captured in the middle of a nice smile, the kind that makes women cry that he’s happily married. But Aran is with his usual serious expression, the one that makes me wonder what his wife even sees in him.
In their wedding vows, both of these men said some crap about how they each married their best friends. I remember weeping each time, hoping one day that would be me as well.
Alas, who knows who Brooke will end up marrying—if he even does. I’m not sure he’s a fan of the sacrament or institution, considering his family history.
“Isn’t it creepy to have them looking down at you when you’re, um… you know.” I casually point a thumb back at the mattress.
“Sleeping?” Brooklyn asks in an overly sweet voice.
I give him some serious side eye. “You know what I mean.”
A full smile blooms on his face. It transforms him fromstaggeringly handsome to heart attack inducing. Chuckling, he says, “Actually, I’d never thought about it but I’m definitely going to be creeped out now. I’ll take them down.”
