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JESSIE
“Nice place,” I say as we walk into Brookes’ apartment. I kick off my heels, leaving them beneath the console table by the door. “A little boring though. It looks like you just bought the bare minimum and decided that was good enough.”
Brookes shrugs before helping me out of my coat. “I just moved here recently. I didn’t see the need to do anything to the place.”
I look at the white walls and gray furniture, wondering if he knows what color is. Even though the matte-black hardwood floors are stunning, there isn’t a single ounce of warmth in the apartment.
The massive windows that line one wall offer a stunning view of his Union Station neighborhood. I make my way through the living room, dodging the massive gray couch to look out at the buildings below.
“I couldn’t imagine living in a place like this. I have plants everywhere at home.”
Brookes kicks off his shoes and hangs up both our coats before joining me at the windows. “I can’t keep a plant alive to save my life. If I even look at a plant, it dies a couple days later.”
Laughing, I turn to face him. “I’m the same way. My friend installed an app on my phone that reminds me to water my plants. If I didn’t have that, everything in my apartment would be dead.”
His hand presses against my lower back as a shiver races down my spine. He guides me into the living room where I see a stunning record player framed with shelves that hold hundreds of records.
“I didn’t peg you for the hipster type,” I say, my tone teasing as I head over to the collection.
“Do you want anything to drink before you start judging me?” he asks, matching my tone as he moves into the sleek kitchen.
I glance over my shoulder at him. “I’d love some water.”
“I think I can manage that.”
As he gets the glass of water, I start to rummage through his record collection. As I pull out the first record, I’m shocked. I was expecting something along the lines of a popular pop band. One of those bands that only puts out records because the hipsters like it.
To my surprise, the record is a punk band from the nineties. I flip it over, looking at the track list. To my surprise, Brookes’ taste in music mirrors my own. I go through a couple more records, still judging his taste.
“Have I moved past the hipster label?” he asks as I select a record I like and put it on.
“You might have.” I join him on the couch and take the glass of water he set on the table. After taking a long sip, I put the water down and lean back into the cushions. “You surprise me.”
“In what way?”
I shrug and twist to face him. The look in his eyes makes my heart race. He’s still giving me that same soul-searching stare. It reminds me of the night we were first together. I had no problem pouring out my heart and soul to him when he looked at me like that back then.
Maybe I should give him another chance. I should stop holding on to the past and try to move forward.
Something about the man Brookes is now makes me feel like he’s changed from the person he was in the past. I don’t want to get my hopes too high, but I can give him another chance. Five years is a long time. People change a lot in that time.
I changed a lot in that time. He likely did as well.
“You aren’t the person I convinced myself you were in my head.” I tuck one leg under me and lean a little closer to him. “I thought you were this rich asshole who used women and then left them for a game.”
“And now what do you think?” he asks, his voice husky as he rolls up the sleeves of his black dress shirt.
“I think you had shit going on in your life back then just like everybody else. I think five years likely changed a lot about you, and I should stop judging you on the person you used to be and start judging you on who you are now.”
Brookes nods and slings his arm over the back of the couch. His fingers drift along my shoulder blade, sending tingles through my body. “I think I’ve changed a lot too.”
One minute we’re sitting nearly a foot away from each other, and the next his mouth is on mine. I move on the couch, straddling his lap as his hands land on my hips.
Brookes groans as my dress climbs higher up my thighs. His hands run down my hips to my thighs, grasping the bare skin before climbing higher again.
I run my fingers through his soft hair, pulling slightly as he nips at my bottom lip. His tongue slides against mine as I reach down to unbutton his shirt. Brookes’ groan is low and throaty as he lifts his hips slightly, pressing his cock into me.
I gasp and roll my hips, trying to build friction between us. His hands move back up my body, cupping my breasts through my dress. My nipples ache as he massages my breasts.
