21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
B rooks wasn’t kidding about having a chaotic schedule following our date.
I know he’s studying hard for the two finals he has to take, while also teaching all day. He still made time to text me throughout the week, but he skipped small group last night.
We’ve only been officially dating for one week, and I’m already feeling pouty about not seeing him. I assume he’ll check his phone during his lunch hour, so I send a quick text message.
Could I bring over dinner and help you study tonight for your final tomorrow?
We don’t have an Arrow meeting tonight due to finals week, so I have a rare Thursday night off. I decide to pick up some cookies to deliver to AOPi as study fuel rather than pace my house waiting for his reply. Bakery box in hand, I’m walking up the steps to my old sorority house when my phone dings. I quickly pull it out to check the message before I go inside.
brOOKS
If you come over, the only thing I’ll wind up studying is the facets of blue in your eyes
GIF of Robert Downy Jr. rolling his eyes
brOOKS
You’re deluding yourself if you think I’m joking
I will hold your feet to the fire and force you to study. I used to quiz Lana with note cards all the time in college. I’m a pro
brOOKS
I’m not underestimating your quizzing skills. You’re underestimating how bewitching you are
I’m grateful that these are text messages and not a video call when my cheeks start flaming. Did the sun just get hotter? Wasn’t it forty degrees a second ago?
brOOKS
Of course you can come. See? You’ve bewitched me via text, persuaded me to agree to your wishes
magic wand emoji
What time?
brOOKS
5:30 work?
I’ll be there
brOOKS
Just 313 minutes away
I pick up Chinese takeout on my way to Brooks’ apartment. After touching up my hair and makeup, of course. And changing my outfit twice, settling on leggings and an old AOPi hoodie. Keeping things casual and minimally bewitching.
When Brooks answers the door, his expression tells me that I’ve failed at my bewitchment-minimalization effort. His hair looks like he’s absentmindedly tangled his fingers through it, adding to the leisurely look of his black joggers and plain gray t-shirt.
Apparently, Casual Brooks is also exceptionally bewitching. Because I stand there staring, not moving. I’m pretty sure my lips have parted wordlessly, a movement which draws Brooks’ attention to my mouth. When he draws his eyes back up to mine, the unbridled longing in his gaze threatens to pull my lips straight to his.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
I abruptly hold up the bag of food, needing to break the spell in the air between us.
“Sustenance!” I chirp, my voice awkwardly high-pitched.
Brooks clears his throat and gestures me inside. “I’ll get some glasses of cold water,” he says.
Yes. Gallons of cold water, please.
I move to set the food out on the small dining table. There’s a laptop on the table but no note cards or papers or highlighters. Zero useful study accessories. “Brooks? How am I supposed to quiz you if there are no note cards?”
Brooks comes out from the kitchen holding two glasses of ice water, a slight grimace on his face. “I need to confess something. I don’t really use note cards to study.”
Crossing my arms, I narrow my eyes. “What am I doing here then if I can’t test your answers?”
With two long strides, Brooks closes the space between us, leaning around me to set the glasses on the table. His voice is a velvet murmur when he speaks. “I told you, Sneaks—if you came here, I’d spend my time studying you.”
Our nearness, the low tone of his voice, the intimacy of his breath so close to mine—the combination freezes my lungs. With great effort, I pull in oxygen through my nose, slowly blowing it back out. “And I promised to hold your feet to the fire, so you’d better find me some paper to cut into rectangles.”
One corner of Brooks’ lips twitches then oh-so-slowly turns up into a half-smile. “Let’s eat, then I’ll show you my online study guide.” He moves to sit down, giving me space to turn back into a fully-functioning human.
We pass cartons between us, eating directly from them with chopsticks. I tell Brooks about my change of pace during Townsend finals week. He reluctantly admits he aced his first final this week when I prod him. Brooks wasn’t a bad student in high school, but he wasn’t exactly the poster child of academia. This updated version of Brooks is clearly committed to both teaching and learning.
Which means he doesn’t really need help studying.
I needed an excuse to see him.
When we’re both stuffed, Brooks brings the laptop over to me. “Here’s the study guide I’ve filled out for my School-Community Relations class. The biggest chunk of our grade came from a case study mock plan that we turned in yesterday. But we do have a test over some of the material. Ask me anything.”
He takes his seat across from me, and I skim over the document all about philosophies and strategies for engaging the broader community with the school district. Brooks has filled this in with plentiful, meticulous notes.
“You love this class, don’t you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Brooks gives a soft smile. “I have enjoyed this one. It’s filled me with more ideas than I could ever successfully implement.”
I draw my knees up to my chest, resting them against the table. I proceed to “quiz” him on the material, which is really me asking minimal questions and Brooks giving mini-dissertations on each topic. A simple question about community partnership strategy has him talking for a solid four minutes straight.
“Everyone assumes that community partnerships are only about getting goods and services donated to the schools. And, of course, those are crucial to supporting the staff and students, to fill in gaps that official funding doesn’t cover,” Brooks explains, voice increasing in speed and strength. “But that’s the tip of the iceberg of what community partnerships could be, should be. It’s about getting real people from the community around students to provide models for them of what it means to be contributing members of society. To see how our community is shaped by a variety of people with different vocations, skill sets, hobbies, passions, and experiences—that together we contribute to a whole that’s greater than our individual selves. Students need to see positive role models of varying shapes and sizes, metaphorically speaking. Help them picture themselves as one of those contributors.”
Brooks is on the edge of his seat now. His passion for not only his specific students, but education in general, oozes out of every word he speaks, every inflection of his voice, every raise of his eyebrows and gesture of his hands.
The passion is contagious. I feel it swelling in my chest, whispering in my mind.
You could do this. You might be made to do this.
My thoughts have tangled themselves and distracted me from what Brooks was saying. I snap my attention back to him when my ears register silence. He’s smiling softly at me.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Doesn’t matter what I was saying. I’d rather watch the expressions that dance across your face while you’re lost in thought,” he says.
I drop my head against my arms resting on my knees. “Brooooks,” I groan. “Now I can’t look at you with a straight face.”
Seconds later, his smiling face peers up from the floor next to me. I smile back, and he playfully pinches my side before taking the chair next to me. “So, will you be in KC for Christmas?” he asks.
“Yep. I’ll be staying with my mom, but I’ll see my dad too. You?”
Brooks nods his response. “Could I see you for Christmas sometime?” he asks. There’s a note of anxiety in his voice. Like he actually thinks I could say no.
I smile softly at him. “Yes. Let me check with my mom on the plans.”
His typical playful spark crowds out the anxiety in his eyes. “Good. ’Cause baby, all I want for Christmas is you.”
I roll my eyes to hide my mutual feelings.
Christmas Eve holds an extra thrill of anticipation this year because Brooks will be joining us for dinner.
Mom said he was welcome to come any time, but it made the most sense to have him come tonight. Logan and I will be spending most of the day with Dad tomorrow, and Brooks needs to spend Christmas Day with his dad, brother, and sister-in-law.
I’ve been staying with my mom for a couple of days now, and we’ve had multiple conversations about my new relationship with Brooks. Despite her caution at Thanksgiving, my words and actions have provided her enough assurance to feel happy about it now. She agreed not to mention anything about it to Logan or my dad yet. Those seem like they should be in-person conversations.
Unfortunately, Logan got delayed and is still on his way to KC from St. Louis. He’ll probably arrive shortly before dinner, so hopefully I have enough time to prepare him prior to Brooks’ arrival.
I’m extra meticulous applying makeup, going for a light smoky look complete with a subtle cat eye. It should pair well with the jade green dress I’m wearing. The sound of the front door opening reaches my ears right before Logan calls out greetings. “Hey, big bro!” I call from my room as I hear Mom welcoming him in the foyer.
I need to run down and quickly fill him in on all that has transpired with Brooks, but I decide to add one finishing touch to my outfit first. Pulling half of my hair back, I secure it with a deep maroon hair bow, adding a softer feminine touch to my darker eye makeup.
Zipping up my ankle boots, I give myself a mental pep talk before going to tell Logan about Brooks. Logan overlapped with Brooks on the varsity basketball team for a year, but he was a grade older and Logan was already away at college by the time our relationship ended. But he’s still the stereotypical protective older brother, so he might need more convincing than Mom did to let the past go.
I reach the top of the staircase at the same moment the doorbell rings.
Oh no.
My brain tells my feet to go down the steps as fast as humanly possible, but Logan is already almost to the door.
“I’ll get the door, don’t worry about it,” I’m practically shrieking as my feet nearly trip over themselves on the stairs.
I reach the door a second after Logan opens it, just in time to hear Logan’s icy voice. “You.”
Just in time to watch in slow motion as Logan punches Brooks across the jaw.