Page 64 of Shutout
He’s such damn good person. How could I have ever painted him as the villain a year and a half ago? Was I really that in my feels that I felt justified in treating him like crap?
My shoulders droop with a deep, sad sigh. I don’t deserve this second chance at his friendship, and I have zero right to crave more.
Suddenly, Brooke angles a bit and gently pushes me forward with a hand at the small of my back. A shiver raises goosebumps all across my skin, and I pretend like I’m just cold by burrowing deeper into my enormous Linkin Park hoodie.
The gentle push brings me up to the counter, and an annoyed girl stares at me from behind it. “What are you ordering?”
Yikes. If they had a chill pill in their menu, I’d order it to give it back to her.
“The garden salad, please. No nuts.”
She punches the order in the iPad, and then turns a much nicer expression to the guy behind me. “And you, captain?”
Oh. She knows who he is. And if she hates me on sight, she must think Brooke and I have something going on because of how close he’s standing. I take a long step aside that brings me up against Alyssa and Emily. Brooke gives me a weird look before placing his order.
When I turn, I find the two girls wiggling their eyebrows. “Not a word.”
One of them zips up her lips. The good thing is that the Thundercloud is pretty fast, and we don’t have to wait long for our food. It stems off the worry that these two will spill something incriminatory in front of Brooke. Soon, we’re back at our table and I’m pleased, because not only I’ll finally get some food, but everyone’s mouths will be too busy to speak.
Grunting, I give a second try of popping open my salad. The lid’s stuck with industrial grade strength because even though I strain my muscles, I can’t get it to budge.
“Gimme,” Brooke says, his cheeks swollen with food. He takes the container from my hands and anyone would think his gigantic paws would be clumsy. But no, he tucks his fingers under the lid easy enough and pulls. It opens with a loud pop of air releasing. Nothing spills and he looks too proud of himself. “Here,” he says, giving me a wide smile. The kind that stops traffic and makes people secretly take pics of him—yep, like zipper girl is doing from her table right now.
“Um, thanks.” I slide lower in my seat.
I need to find a way for him to stop beaming at me that way, or he’s going to fulminate me. And everyone around us, if I can go by the way Alyssa looks at him like he’s a dream.
At least I manage to rip the balsamic vinaigrette packet open on my own. But just as I’m about to sink my fork into the salad, Brooklyn grabs my wrist and stops me.
“Wha—”
The question dies on my lips. His face has transformed into an expression he only shows during games against Bulldogs. Pure anger.
I watch, frozen in my seat, as he snatches my salad and jumps back to his feet. Our group mates look just as confused. Pushing my chair back, I follow as Brooke cuts the line and squares up against the cashier who has the hots for him.
“No nuts, she said.” Brooke’s voice is deep and growly. My entire body tenses.
When I reach them, the girl is blinking fast and has grown pale. “Um, what?”
The vicinity quiets down. Whole tables and a line of people cease their activity to listen in on what’s got the Thunder Bolts’ captain’s panties in a twist, including me.
Brooke points at me and then the salad. “She said no nuts, but there are nuts here. Ever stopped to think why someone might request no nuts?” He leans closer to her. “Because they could be deathly allergic. You could’ve killed her.”
My entire face prickles at the attention, especially my eyes. I hook my arm around Brooke’s and pull with all my might. “Brookie, it’s okay. Nothing happened.”
“But it could have!” He turns over his shoulder, agony in the way his forehead wrinkles. “You could’ve ended up at the hospital—again! And I… I…” He shakes his head and swallows hard.
“I could make a new salad?” the girl offers with a small voice.
“No! You should apolo?—”
“Brooke, come with me.” My voice is hard enough that it snaps him out of the haze. I drag him outside of the Thundercloud amid stares and whispers. We’re only a few steps away when I realize I’m pulling him by the hand, our fingers interlocked as if they had any right to be. But changing myhold would waste precious time where I need to just lead him away.
Finally, I stop under the shade of a tree with leaves the color of fire. They almost twinkle against the cold breeze, a happy little sound at odds with the expression on his face. Brooklyn looks like someone died. His eyes are glazed over, and I just know he’s imagining a horrible worst case scenario that hasn’t happened, since I’m still obviously breathing.
I let go of his hand. When that’s not enough to awaken him, I step closer until I crash against his chest and squeeze my arms tight around his waist.
Finally, he sighs against my hair and curls himself forward. His arms wrap around me with urgency, like I’m a slippery balloon trying to escape between them. “Sorry I lost my shit back there.”
