2. Brooke
Chapter two
Brooke
“Hiiiiiii,” I squeal, my backpack falling to the cement walkway outside of the baggage claim at Eugene airport. Throwing my arms around Maci’s neck, I hug my friend, my blonde waves flying over her shoulder. It’s been a year since we met on her trip to Thailand.
“I’m so happy you’re here!” she says, squeezing me tight. Tears float along my waterline. Besides my dad and my childhood best friend, Cam, no one is ever unconditionally happy to see me. Shaking partly from excitement and partly from the chill of the early May weather in the Pacific Northwest, I cling to the warmth of her sweatshirt. Or maybe just the warmth of her.
Maci drops her arms, grabbing the handle of my suitcase containing everything I own as I reach for my backpack. Taking me in, she laughs. “Are you freezing?”
My favorite pair of loose tan shorts and white and navy striped ribbed tank were perfect for the 30℃ it was when I left Phuket yesterday. “This is not exactly appropriate for the 15° it is in Oregon.”
Maci searches the depth of her mind for a math equation. I guess I better get my brain back on track with America–the country that feels so superior that they calculate everything differently than the rest of the world. I try to calculate it for myself.
“I think it’s like 60℉.” She chuckles, reading my mind.
“Yeah, it’s too cold.” I laugh. “It’s been a while since I’ve needed a jacket.” Three years to be exact. Outside of a few instances, I haven’t worn one since I left Connecticut and moved to Thailand. Maci pops the trunk of the Range Rover she picked me up in. This thing is huge. I slide my suitcase against the charcoal carpet of the tailgate, unzip it and pull out my plum zip-up hoodie–the only piece of clothing I kept from my life before Thailand.
Tugging my arms through the sleeves, I slide onto the passenger seat. “Did you upgrade your car?” I ask Maci as she flicks on the blinker and looks over her shoulder. This car doesn’t seem like her at all.
She pulls out of the loading zone lane. “No. Dean dropped mine off to get new tires before he left on a boys’ camping trip. They took his truck, so I borrowed Marcus’ car. Plus, I thought it would be a nice change from Tuk Tuks.” I already miss Thailand, despite my main mode of transportation being a motorized cart that is so small your head hits the ceiling and knees jam into your boobs.
“Did you forget to tell me Marcus is rich?”
She shoots me a look before paying attention to the road again. “No. Don’t do that. I know where your head is going, and I can confirm he’s not part of some fancy country club.”
“Hmm.”
She glances at me with a sly smile. “His mom was a bus driver and his dad was a crossing guard. I think that’s how they met. ”
I need to find a way to stop prematurely jumping to conclusions. It’s hard when I’ve been proven right about rich people so many times. “Sounds sweet. It’s nice of him to let me stay at his house.”
“He’s great. He’s easily my favorite friend of Dean’s. They’ve known each other forever. He said you can have his room too.”
“Oh, no. I don’t want to take over his space.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s not home a lot, and when he is, he doesn’t sleep much anyway.”
I don’t bother fighting her. A bed sounds like . . . not an economy seat on a cheap airline for fifteen hours. “Thanks for letting me visit this week. I really need some time to reacclimate to the US before I have to deal with my mother.” That will take enough adjustment. I also need to figure out what’s next for me. The owner of the restaurant I worked at in Thailand for the past three years was selling his business. That was enough to convince me it was time for a new adventure, but I don’t have a plan past that.
“You can stay as long as you want. I’m so happy you’re here. I can’t wait for you to meet the girls tonight.” Since the guys are out of town for a camping trip, Maci invited her best friends over for a girls' night. Pizza Rolls, Cheez-Its and the three types of Girl Scout cookies I had Maci buy and freeze–all things that were nearly impossible to get overseas.
Twenty minutes later, we’ve pulled into a gravel driveway and Maci has given me a quick tour of the house before leaving me to settle in.
Flicking on the light, I scan my temporary room. I’m comfortable having strangers in my house. It happened so many times in Thailand. Most people were just passing through or stayed over after a night out on the town. Maci is the only one who stayed long enough at my apartment that she moved into a permanent place in my life. Although, I feel like she would have anyway.
But being in a stranger's house? After three years of living alone, it’s far out of my comfort zone. This room is bigger than my entire studio. An unsettledness hollows my stomach like when I first arrived in Phuket and every street was unfamiliar. Though, I like how simple it is. There’s a deep brown rustic bed frame with dark olive green bedding against the center of the back wall. To the right is a door that opens to a bathroom. To the left is a bookshelf that matches the bed frame. My fingers bump across the spines of the books sitting at eye level. They’re all self-growth books. Success. Business. Mindset. A lot of books about mindset. I haven’t read any, but that’s not surprising considering I only read romance. I wonder if he’s a one genre kind of person too or if he ever strays into fiction. Either way, a man who reads is hot. Reading and maturity are paired together at the top of my qualities I want in a man wish list.
There’s one sleek black picture frame with a photo of a family at the lake. Picking up the frame, I take a closer look at the guy. Black swim shorts hang on his hips, showing off deeply ingrained abs and a massive tattoo of a koi fish swimming upstream from his waistline to the armpit of his lightly tanned skin. Damn, everything about his body is impressive. I wonder if that’s a recent picture. I hope so because that man is hot. Excuse me while I sleep in his bed, naked in his sheets.
I let the fantasy play out in my head. Marcus comes home late at night, forgetting he has a house guest and climbs in bed with me, not disappointed at all by the surprise.
Damn, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten laid that I’m imagining scenarios with a stranger who could be an asshole for all I know. Who am I kidding, though? I would never sleep with someone I don’t have a connection with. Not anymore. I haven’t focused much on sex in years. No reason to think about it now.
Still, my chest constricts, nerves pulling on my heartbeat until it’s erratic. Why am I so on edge today? Maybe because I didn’t sleep at all on the plane.
I unlock my phone. Oh. Probably the seventeen missed calls from my mother wanting to plan my trip back home to Connecticut. By plan, I mean her setting me up on dates with men she deems worthy–aka men with pockets deeper than their personalities.
Sighing, I fall backward onto my bed for the next week, my blonde hair splaying across the comforter. Wow. It could easily trap me like those foam pits I jumped into during gymnastics class as a kid. I might not even bother moving from this spot until it’s time to go. Maybe then I’ll feel rested enough to visit my mother. Although, I doubt it. Three years searching for peace in a different country wasn’t enough. Thank god Dad will be there too. Seeing him is almost enough to balance out the negative.
Opening my meditation app, I set the timer for five minutes. Setting my phone on the mattress next to me, the sounds of a light breeze with ocean water lapping on a shore softly crackle out of the speaker. I close my eyes, instantly transported back to Thailand and overcome by a wave of longing. Taking a deep breath, I focus on my inhale. Hold for four seconds. Exhale slowly. Hold. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I continue until a soft chime indicates the end of the timer, desperate to cling to Thai Brooke , to the me I love to be–not the one that exists physically or mentally near my mother.