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“You kissed her. Logan, he kissed her.” Harper’s eyes widen as she bounces in her seat, while Logan looks at her like he can’t breathe without her.
“Jesus, I literally just said, I don’t kiss and tell. I didn’t say I kissed her.”
Today anyway.
While all eyes are fixed on the playoff game, I think back to my last words with Brooke at the library. Juvie almost slipped from my mouth. It’s a reminder that Brooke and I can’t be together. If she asks about it, I’ll just cut all ties. I quickly type out a message to Brooke. The phone is burning a hole in my pocket, wanting more of her and those freaking freckles.
Me:You always wear your hair up. Is it red?
Brooke:Strawberry blonde but a little darker.
Me:I’ve never heard the term, strawberry blonde. (thinking emoji)
Brooke:Did you take care of the emergency?
Me:I did. Now I’m at a bar with my friends.
Brooke:Oh.
Damn, now, she thinks I jumped at the opportunity to hang out with my friends at a bar instead of studying with her.
Me:Two of my friends had breakups today. One caught his girlfriend screwing another guy, and the other one’s long-term girlfriend said they needed space to grow or some shit like that. I’d rather be with you.
Admitting that I want to be in her company is too much. I can’t have that kind of relationship with a woman because she’ll undoubtedly push me away when my darkest day reveals itself. Fear seeps in. Vulnerability strangling me. So, I return to what makes me comfortable.
Me:I want to dirty you up.
Brooke:You already did. (winky face emoji)
I’m sorry about your friends. It sucks to be cheated on or left feeling worthless.
Me:Do you ever wonder if we deserve the bad things in life?
I watch the bouncing dots with anticipation like it’s the puck drop of the NHL championship.
Brooke:Most people don’t deserve heartache. Maybe it makes the heart stronger, so when the right person comes along, we can withstand the pressure of it breaking.
This is getting a little too deep for a first texting session.
Me:Maybe. Never thought of it that way. Sorry, I need to get these assholes home.
Brooke:I know I’m not your type, so thanks for giving me a night to remember.
Me:Don’t make assumptionsNight, Brooke.
Brooke:Good night.
She thinks she’s not my type. Smart, prepared, gorgeous, playful. A little shy. It will be rewarding to discover every other adjective that describes her. She’s fucking perfection.
Chapter Eight
BROOKE
The week crawls by slower than a one-mile snail race. I haven't heard from Reed except for those few texts last Sunday. I’m continually checking my phone, hoping we meet this weekend to study, and who knows, possibly more. Maybe he will even invite me to his house to witness more of his dirty side.
I’m not naïve or innocent, just inexperienced in sex. I’ve had straight-up sex with baby daddy on top and with me on top. Sex lasted like fifteen minutes, and that included foreplay. I’ve never had a man consume me like he couldn’t get enough until Reed, and the feeling was mutual.
He hasn’t texted me back, so it’s possible he was playing me like he was the cat, and I was the catnip. I remember that he said he would call me if we had a study date.
