18. Brooke
Brooke
Janine sits on my loveseat, petting Huey, absolutely dumbstruck. Her wide brown eyes stare at me, unblinking.
"What?"
"What do you mean, what? You fucking idiot!" she whisper-yells. "You drop the L-bomb, and you only tell me now? Do you hate me?"
"No! What? No!" I wring my hands. "It was just… it was just so much, Janine. It was so good. He makes me feel alive again—like everything might be okay. Like I can do this. I have been doing this! And maybe it all won't come crashing down?"
"First of all, you do not need a man to feel alive. And if you do, I'd like to introduce you to a very luxurious line of battery-operated boyfriends. Mine is named Steve." She looks at me pointedly.
"Who could forget Steve?" I mumble. "Remember when you used him as a fake microphone for drunken karaoke? "
"Yes, I do." She smiles happily. "He's multifaceted."
"A true renaissance man." I pause and pick at a hangnail on my thumb. "And I don't need a man to feel alive. It's just… I don't know. I don't know how to explain it."
"So fuckin' try, bitch."
I sigh. How can I explain that Dustin is… Dustin? He's the same person he's always been, just more mature. He listens. He learns. He helped me bake for Fiona's birthday. He's held me while I cry over fucking Calvin , of all people, multiple times. Damn it all, he just makes me happy. He makes me feel capable, which I already know I am.
Dustin would never make me feel like a checkbox on his life plan. He'd never stick his nose up at my baking. He'd never belittle my career aspirations—he'd be right there behind me, cheering me on the whole way. And I want to cheer him on, too. I want to be a team with him, like I never was with Calvin. He's the polar opposite of Calvin in pretty much every way.
"He makes me happy," is all I can force out.
"Well, thank fuck for that." She grimaces. "I need a drink. What do you have around here?"
"Brooke?" Ricky tentatively knocks at my door. Uncharacteristically polite for him. "You have a visitor."
"She sure does," Janine calls out. "Got any liquor, Rick?"
"For you? Always," Ricky says as he slams open my door. "That guy is back, too. "
"Uh, hi." Dustin edges himself around Ricky and into my room.
Jesus, God, and Mary. This is not the Thursday night I was imagining. I drop my head into my hands and groan. "Thank you, Ricky."
"Y'know what? I think I need to help you find the liquor." Janine hops up from my couch and smiles warmly at Ricky, which is a weird thing to see. Does she know he drinks spaghetti sauce?
He says something else to her as they scurry away, but I don't hear it. When I look up from my hands, all I see is Dustin.
"Uh, hi," he repeats. "Um, I wanted to—I mean, I talked to my sister, and—shit. You know I love you, right?"
"Oh, god." I plop onto my bed. Nothing good ever starts with you know I love you, right? "Here it comes. Just rip off the band-aid, Dustin."
"What?" He scampers over and kneels in front of me. "I don't know what you think I mean, but I do love you. And I was thinking, and then I called my sister, and I just… needed to see you. I do love you, Brooke. I think I always have. I want our relationship to continue after I leave. Whether that means long distance, or I apply for a transfer to the NYC office, or you move to Chicago—really, any of those options. I just know that I want you, Brooke."
Every air molecule leaves my lungs as my stomach dances a conga. My vision tunnels until all I can see is Dustin's beautiful, vulnerable face. All I want to do is cup his cheek and feel the softened stubble of his beard on my palm. I want to kiss him into next week. Unfortunately, my entire body freezes, and all I can do is squeak out something unintelligible with a tiny nod.
He melts into a relieved smile and rushes towards me, cradling the back of my head as he pulls me into the most earth-shattering kiss. Symphonies ring out in my head. Birds chirp happily. Bells ring in the most gorgeous princess-y tower. I swear to god, the very floor beneath my feet rumbles to the beat of our hearts.
His tongue gently invades my mouth, and a delighted groan rumbles in my throat. My hands fly over his body, needing him, needing every single bit of him as close to me as possible. Closer than that, even.
"I want you, too," I manage to breathe out between gasps for air. "God, I want you. I want to make this work. We can always make it work, right?"
"Always, baby," he murmurs into my ear. The soft heat of his breath makes goosebumps erupt down my neck, and I fight back a shiver. "Yours, forever."
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" I pull back with a sheepish smile.
"No. No, I'm not. I believed it wholeheartedly back then, and I'm overjoyed to say it back to you now. I promise you, Brooke. I'm yours, forever." He pulls me over to straddle his lap and runs a hand through my (very messy) hair. "I can't even tell you how many times I read those notes. I felt… weird about keeping them all these years. But I'm so glad I never deleted them. Hell, I think the originals are somewhere in Mom's attic."
"Wait, seriously?" My whole chest and neck flushes with embarrassment. "They were so corny . Full of teenage hormones, horrible spelling, and even worse grammar."
Dustin chuckles with a glimmer in his eye. "Yeah, but they were from you. Honestly, you ruled my life for my formative years."
"That can't be healthy."
"Ha! Maybe not, but look at us now. We both grew up, we matured, we lived, and we learned." He grins. "Plus, that ass—you inspired my ass fixation, baby. C'mere."
With some kind of acrobatic skill, he flips me over and off of his lap, face down in the bed. His hands clamp around my ass cheeks, and he lets out a soft groan as he kneads the thick muscle. "Goddamn, baby. You're a fuckin' sight ."
"Why don't you do something about it?"
A loud whump against my bedroom door startles the both of us, and we flinch apart. A split-second later, we hear a muffled shit from someone who sounds an awful lot like Janine.
"Janine?" I call out. "Are you spying?"
"No," she lies. Obviously .
Dustin looks down at the raging erection straining against his jeans. "Um, do you—"
"I got it." I roll myself off of the bed and stomp to the door to find Janine and Ricky scampering down the hallway. "Seriously, you guys?"
Janine pokes her head back around the corner. "You'd do the same thing, girl. Do not lie to me."
"Get some, Brooke." Ricky grins lewdly and shoots me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "We're not listening. I can barely hear it out here when you go to bone town. And I definitely can't hear it from my room. I swear."
"Jesus, gross," I mutter. Turning back to Dustin, I grimace. "So… back to your place, then?"
Judging from the way his pants aren't tenting, the moment's dead. He chews on his lower lip for a second. "I mean, we could . But what if I stayed here, and I just get to hold you?"
I smile. "Yeah, that'd be nice."
Every makeup item I own is splayed out on the bathroom counter as I hurriedly redo my eyeliner for the millionth time. Janine sits on the (closed) toilet, munching on a bag of corn chips and throwing out suggestions. Her bag of hair-care items waits for me on the edge of my bed. We've only got a few hours before the dinner cruise tonight, and I want to look fucking incredible.
"So, like, how do you keep yourself away from him during the work week?" she asks.
"Not well." I sigh and frown as the perfect winged eyeliner eludes me— again . "I mean, we're pretty good at just being professional-friendly. I think."
"No, you're not," she scoffs. "I can tell."
"Girl, then why did you ask?" I toss the eyeliner pen down with a little more force than I meant to.
"Thought it'd be funny. Anyway, did you pick a dress?"
"Yup. The baby pink one."
"Is that the one he fucked you sideways in when he showed up with puppy-dog eyes?" She grins and chews loudly.
"No, that was the purple. But god willing, and the creek don't rise, he'll give me a repeat performance. Can you please do my left eye? I can't get it to match the right." I snatch the pen back up and shove it at her.
"I was wondering when you'd ask."
I don't know how she does it, but Janine perfects the left eye's wing like a pro. I move to go back to the mirror, but she grabs my arm and shakes her head. "Nope, you're getting the full Janine treatment."
"Well, if you insist. "
"I do." She whips out the most stunning berry lipstick I've ever seen, and before I know it, I'm done. I look like a goddess. A very professional goddess, I might add. But a goddess nonetheless.
The lime green dye in my hair has faded to a cool minty color. Janine whips out the fanciest curling rod I've ever seen and gets to work, while I allow my mind to race around the subject of Dustin. He wants to be with me. He wants to make this work. I know we've tried long distance before—and it exploded horrifically in sophomore year—but I really do believe we can make this happen.
I just might be moving to Chicago, that's all. Or Dustin could move here. I wouldn't complain about that. If DropTop is being acquired by Atmosphere, that really opens up a world of possibilities. Not that I want to abandon my team—not at all. But we do have the option to work from any office.
The contented smile drops from my face as Janine yanks a clump of my hair with one of her massive claw clips. "Jesus!"
"Sorry, sorry, you big baby." She sniffs. "We're almost done."
Looking up at the mirror, I see she has my hair sectioned into a very chic half-up, half-down number. The undersides are curled and fluffed into defined, yet beachy, waves. She rifles through her bag and brings out a giant handful of bobby pins and clear elastics. I preemptively wince because those things are going to hurt like a motherfucker when I take them all out at the end of the night.
A few tender-headed tears later, I've got the most adorable space buns with wispy curtain bangs, while the lower half of my hair hangs free and delightfully wavy. All in all, I look fucking amazing.
"Did I do good, or did I do good?" Janine clasps her hands together and smiles at me in the mirror.
"You did fucking good," I giggle back.
We both squeal with excitement, and I scurry to my closet to find the aforementioned pink dress. It's got a deep V-neck, flowy short sleeves, a poofy A-line skirt, and discreet silver threading around the hem. I love the distinctly early spring vibes it gives off, even though I'll definitely be rocking up with my giant winter coat over it. Here's hoping the cruise ship has heating.
I thank every deity that might be listening that I had the presence of mind to wear a robe during the getting-ready process. I do not want to think about ruining my hair by pulling a ratty sweatshirt over my head. Dropping the robe to the floor, I quickly step into the dress and do my absolute best to zip it myself.
"Would it kill you to ask for help?" Janine scoffs. She quickly zips me up and gives me a smack on the ass.
"Hey! I did ask for help, if you recall. I asked you to do my eyeliner." I twirl in the dress and squeak happily at the way the skirt poofs out around me .
"Right, and you're at capacity. One 'help me please' per day, huh?"
"Exactly. Can't have you thinking I've gone all soft and helpless now that I've got myself a man," I overexaggerate a Southern drawl, and Janine rolls her eyes so hard I think they might fall out.
"Go get 'em, kid."