Chapter 17
Brielle
I’d never played hooky before. But I did have the brains to call my mom—I wasn’t calling Dad, nope, not happening—and let her know there was media at the school, so Reece had encouraged me to leave—that was how I put it.
Mom went all mama bear and said she’d call the school right now and give them “what for” for even considering allowing public media to interview her child.
“My baby girl” was used multiple times, and that’s how I knew by the time I saw Dad, he would be on my side too.
Mom had a way of helping Dad see that sometimes my decisions had good intentions, even though the way I got there wasn’t how he would have done it.
I had texted Lia as I hurried to Reece’s truck, but she was busy, so I wasn’t able to call her. But her text reply made my heart skip.
Tell Brooks you loved the chocolate. That no matter what anyone says, chocolate is the way to your heart.
I wasn’t even going to make a big deal about Brooks’s attempt to be Valentine’s Day nice. The poor guy was just doing his best.
Yeah, my empathy for Brooks had increased a ton since I’d learned about his home situation. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if my parents were that dysfunctional. I mean. Dad could be tough, and Mom was almost too emotional about her “babies,” but in the end, we were a unit. A family.
Brooks didn’t have that.
So even now, as I whipped open the passenger-side door of Reece’s beater-gray truck he called Zeke, I wanted to be there for Brooks.
He grinned at me as I slammed the door shut. “This was unexpected.”
“Right?”
“Where to?”
We stared at each other for a moment, and then we busted out laughing. Probably because we were both nervous and excited at the same time. There was a rush of adrenaline breaking free from school.
“This won’t affect baseball tryouts, will it?” The idea suddenly hit me out of nowhere.
Brooks’ eyes darkened for a moment, and then he shook his head. “My mom will take care of it.”
“How?” I asked.
He didn’t give me an answer beyond, “She’ll say the media was affecting my mental health or something.”
I had to admit, it probably wasn’t much different than my own mom calling the school right now. Only, Brooks’s mom was out of town, and I thought it was interesting that he didn’t mention his dad.
Letting it go for now, I tucked my backpack between my legs on the floor of the truck.
Brooks started the engine, and we pulled out of the parking lot.
February was quickly heading toward March, and spring was coming.
It was in the air. Sunlight sparkled off the windshield, and even though the trees were still bare of leaves, the snow had almost all melted, and the grass from last year was still green in areas.
“Let’s go to the river,” I suggested.
Brooks glanced at me as he pulled up to a red light. “Where is that?”
After giving him some directions, we ended up at the Driftwood River. It cut through town, and in the summer, some people took kayaks down it or floated on tubes. Today, it looked cold, and even though most of the ice along its edges was gone, the water was brown from sediment and runoff.
There was an asphalt walking and biking trail that paralleled it.
I took Brooks along it for a bit until we reached my favorite spot.
A big rock outcropping jutted into the river, and I always loved to go there with a book and sit and read during the summer.
I wasn’t the only one who liked it, and sometimes other people showed up. But today, it was empty.
“C’mon!” I grabbed Brooks’s hand on a whim and then realized what I’d done. I loosened my grip, but he tightened his, and within moments we were out on the rock, settling cross-legged on it.
Brooks picked up some stones and began to toss them into the river. They hit the water and then disappeared beneath the rolling surface.
“This is better than a news interview.”
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. The word “interview” reminded me of the impending call for my potential writing internship. I felt like I should tell Brooks about it, but I didn’t want to put more pressure on the guy.
Besides, we’d already agreed we needed to keep this dating thing going until the end of the semester.
That meant three more months of Brooks, and adding more tension to the mix?
I decided it was better to keep the interview to myself.
Besides. I mean, let’s be honest. I had just skipped out of school—something I’d never done—and was sitting in my favorite place in nature with a guy.
A really cute guy. A super nice guy. I could still feel the warmth of his hand around mine, even though he’d let it go when we sat down.
“It’s getting harder, isn’t it?” Brooks asked after a minute of silence.
I knew he was talking about our little fake dating thing. “I can’t even read a book at lunch anymore,” I rolled my eyes. “A girl actually asked me for advice yesterday on how to create a boyfriend with AI. Like I somehow manifested you into being.”
Brooks laughed. He threw another stone. “Well, I’m not going to deny the whole thing is off-the-wall crazy.”
“Right?” I laughed too.
Another moment of silence, and then Brooks asked, “Are your aunts still bugging you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But that’s not necessarily a good sign. I’m expecting at least one of them to call me soon and demand a relationship status report.”
“Why are they so eager to have you date someone?” Brooks asked the question that I had even asked myself.
“I think they’re old. They miss being in high school.
I mean, my Aunt Tracy has been married almost twenty years now.
Aunt Elle has been married for at least that long.
The twins are younger, but they’re both married too.
I dunno. Women like romance. They want it for each other. They want it for me, I guess.”
“Your dad doesn’t,” Brooks countered with a crooked grin.
“Yeah,” I laughed. “He’s not a fan of—what did he call it the other night?”
“Premature relationships?” Brooks offered.
“That’s it.” I thought about Dad for a second.
I remembered that Dad had no idea that Brooks and I weren’t really dating.
The recollection of that fact twisted me up inside.
I’d never lied to my dad. Well, not really anything big.
And, I knew he was trying to be understanding of me and my supposed relationship with Brooks, even if he preferred I didn’t date in high school.
A lot of my friends thought he was old-fashioned.
But I got it. I mean, it was one reason I’d never bothered with guys before.
You date, you break up, you cry, you date again .
. . it was a circular drama I hadn’t wanted to be a part of.
Now here I was. Not really dating Brooks, but dating Brooks, and deceiving my parents, the school, and pretty much the world. Another reason I was glad we’d skipped out of that interview. I didn’t need another layer of problems on top of what we already had.
“Did you—” I started, but Brooks interrupted me.
“Nope. I haven’t read a single page of Pride and Prejudice.”
“Are you going to?” I challenged.
“Tryouts are next week. I need to focus on those.”
So he really was banking on our relationship for our extra credit project. I eyed him for a second. “Do you think you’ll make the team?”
He seemed to think on my question for a moment, and when he answered, he didn’t look at me. I got the feeling there was something he wasn’t sharing. “I think so. I mean, Reece put in a good word for me with Coach, and, well, they need a catcher.”
“You’ve got good stats too,” I offered.
Brooks raised his brows. “You know my stats?”
“Of course I do!” Just because I’m a bookworm, everyone seems to forget I actually really like baseball too.
“How?” he asked.
“There’s this really cool thing called the Internet, and I looked up your old high school. By the way, your Freshman pic? I’m glad you cut your hair,” I added.
Again with that crooked grin. Blue eyes sparkled. “Don’t like my throw-back mullet?”
“Ew. No. Some things from my parents’ high school days should die there.”
“What would you have done if I’d shown up with my freshman haircut? Still pretended to date me, or would I have experienced instant rejection at the hands of a discriminating female?”
His teasing made his grin deepen, and for a second, my eyes dropped to his mouth.
Stop that, Walters!
I jerked my gaze back to meet his eyes.
His eyes had narrowed.
I think he’d noticed me looking at his mouth, and I think he knew why I was blushing now. I could feel it. The red. Creeping up my neck.
“Nope.” I quickly hurried to answer his question. “I need a fake boyfriend, so I would’ve dealt with your mullet.” Emphasis on the word “fake.” I didn’t want Brooks to think I was developing real feelings for him.
Not at all.