“You’re setting awfully high expectations here.” I went to unbuckle my seat belt when Brooklyn stopped me.
“Oh, we’re not eating here, I’m only picking up the food.”
He winked at me before jumping out of the car. Through the large front window I watched Brooklyn chat with the petite redheaded hostess, her eyes wide and fixated on him as he chatted and laughed with her like they were best friends. I was never the jealous type, but then again, I had never been around someone like him. His sweet, easygoing charm was part of this pull that he had, almost like a planet ready to ensnare any wayward comets in his gravity. At this point I was definitely one of those comets, sucked right in and fated to exist in his atmosphere.
After he returned we drove away and pulled down a small offshoot, a quiet suburban street lined with one-story brick houses and large oak trees with branches that danced in the soft breeze. The street abruptly ended in a thicket of bushes and tall marram grass, but over the tops of them I could see the sky, clear and starting to turn an ombre of orange with the setting sun.
Brooklyn parked the car at the dead end and ran around the front of it to open my door. It was something so small and insignificant, but I’d never get tired of it. He grabbed a backpack from the back seat and led me to the bushes.
“Now would be agreattime to tell me what’s going on,” I prodded.
He shook his head. “Follow me. You trust me, don’t you?”
Whether the gravity to his words was unintentional or not, it gave me pause. Against the odds, against the past, against my sister’s apprehension, I reallydidtrust him.
I took his hand as he led me through the brush, thankful I had picked a good thick pair of jeans to wear. When we made it through to a clearing, it felt like someone had pumped so much air into my chest that it threatened to burst. In front of us was a strip of beach with white sand, probably no bigger than my living room, surrounded by the same brush and beach grass that we had walked through. A small dock stretched into the ocean, which was so calm it looked like glass as the sun began to dip below its surface.
“Wow” was all I could manage to breathe out.
“Is this a good spot for our tacos?” Brooklyn beckoned me to follow him along the dock. He pulled a tribal-printed blanket from his backpack and laid it at the edge, sitting down so that his feet dangled over the water. I sat down beside him, letting the warmth of the dusky sun wash over me.
“Brooklyn.” I sighed wistfully. “This is amazing.”
He stayed quiet, his eyes trained on the ocean. But he put his hand over mine, brushing his thumb over my knuckles and filling me with warmth.
We ate in a comfortable silence, watching the sun slowly set and turn the ocean into a messy watercolor painting of blues and purples and oranges. Every time I glanced over at him, he was already looking at me, his blue eyes deep and veiled with something I didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, it brewed a storm inside of me. I looked down at my feet dangling over the ocean, but my skin prickled as I felt Brooklyn’s eyes still on me.
“What?” I asked.
He gave me a faint smile but stayed silent.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I continued. “Like—”
“Like I adore you?” Brooklyn’s smile widened, and his eyes gleamed like they had stolen the stars right out of the sky. “Because I do. I fucking adore you.”
I swore I heard a pop in my chest, like my heart had just exploded. “Brooklyn.”
“Seriously. You’re like the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I was a mess of thoughts and emotions, and any words I wanted to say knotted up in my throat. I knew the feeling that was starting to bubble up inside of me, and it scared the hell out of me.
“Me too,” I finally said, leaning my head on his shoulder. “I mean it.”
The rest of our dockside dinner passed by in a blur, but I danced on clouds the entire time. We talked about nothing at all, like the weather and our favorite sneakers and bad music, but somehow Brooklyn made it seem like something. I hinged on every word he said and felt my cheeks aching from smiling so much.
When Brooklyn dropped me off at my house, I took my time gathering myself, silently pleading for our night to not end. Brooklyn fiddled with the radio like he always did, and I could tell he was stalling too.
“So . . .” He clicked his tongue.
“So . . .” I echoed. The fuzzy static of the radio filled our silence.
“Do you have plans for Sunday?” he asked, cracking a small smile.
“Well.” I tapped my finger on my chin. “I have a very important date scheduled with my copy ofThe Road.”
Brooklyn chuckled, still smiling that same smile that made my stomach feel like I was on a rollercoaster. “Would you be willing to forgo your date with the nameless character Viggo Mortensen plays in the movie adaptation to have dinner at my house?”
“You mean like, order takeout and get a movie?”
