Chapter 9
CADE
Adagger to the heart would’ve been less painful.
I don’t usually have a flair for the dramatic, but suddenly I could feel the emotion behind all those sappy love songs and tragic movies.
I knew going into the call that I might have to win her over a bit, but I hadn’t expected such an outright rejection.
Maybe I should’ve, considering our history.
I heard my text alert ping. My traitorous heart leapt. Brooke? Had she changed her mind? Was she giving me her cell number? My heart ramped up as I swiped my notifications.
A text from Blaze.
BLAZE
Sky lounge tonight. 9 pm.
Don’t flake.
I tossed my phone on the couch and flipped through the channels. Titanic was playing. Perfect. Nothing like watching a bunch of people die tragically to suit my crap-tastic mood.
Three hours and many beers later, I hadn’t solved the Brooke issue, but I had come to at least one conclusion: Titanic SUCKED. I mean obviously, Kate Winslet was ridiculously hot. That wasn’t up for debate. That ending though? What the hell, man. And Jack totally could’ve fit on that door.
The ache in my heart was down to a dull throb. I wondered if it would ever really go away.
I checked my phone. 9:30. I scrolled past a few missed texts from Blaze, then locked my phone.
I whistled to my trusty pup.
“Bed, Echo.”
He trotted down the hallway, following me to my bedroom. He hopped on the foot of the bed, curling up in a tight ball to sleep.
I tossed and turned that night, my pride smarting from Brooke’s rejection. It felt all too familiar, and lying there in the dark, my thoughts crept back to the night of our high school graduation.
My mom had dropped me off at the Meadows’ new house that afternoon, the one Brooke’s mom had moved Brooke and Owen into when their dad had moved out.
So much had changed in a few short years.
We weren’t neighbors anymore, but we’d still spent our days together at school and most of our evenings together, doing homework at one of our houses.
I’d begged my mom to let me ride with Brooke and her mom and Owen to the graduation ceremony.
I’d been rehearsing for weeks what I wanted to say to her. I just had to find the perfect moment.
Brooke answered the door in a pretty white dress that fit her body just right, the hemline hitting well above her knees and showcasing her toned legs.
The dress had short puffy sleeves, was tight around her waist, and flared out at the skirt.
The material had little flower shapes cut out and stitched.
I gently reached out to touch the fabric on her shoulder.
“What’s this called?”
Brooke was always teasing me about being a clueless dude when it came to fashion.
“Eyelet,” she said with a smile. To me, it looked like the beginning of summer. “Do you like?” She did a little twirl.
Dumbstruck, I just nodded.
Her heels brought her almost to my height. The afternoon light caught in her brown hair, which she wore down in loose waves. Her glossy lips sparkled. She looked like a goddess.
I knew soon the outfit would be covered by our light blue graduation gowns, and I was grateful I got to see her like this, all dressed up, hair and makeup styled, beaming confidently. It was a sight I’d have burned into my brain forever.
It was a short ride to the high school, and soon we were shuffled into a small group of bodies. Teachers were barking orders, directing the seniors where to line up, reminding us to straighten robes and caps.
I wished Brooke’s last name was close to mine alphabetically so we could sit together, but instead I was pushed to the front while she took her place in the middle of our senior group. She squeezed my hand for a moment before I was pulled away.
“See you after,” she smiled.
I half-listened as our principal droned on about “this momentous occasion.” Soon I heard my name called and crossed the stage in a haze, vaguely recognizing my parents’ voices cheering in the audience.
I walked off the stage and took my seat in the audience, leaning back to catch Brooke’s eye a couple rows behind me.
She gave me a goofy grin and a thumbs up.
Before long, it was her turn. She looked so beautiful up there crossing the stage, her legs a mile long.
The salutatorian, the volleyball captain.
She proudly accepted her diploma, shaking hands with the principal and smiling widely for the camera.
She stepped to the side and confidently moved her tassel across her cap.
Her eyes locked with mine, which made my stomach do somersaults.
After the ceremony I saw Brooke exchanging hugs with her volleyball teammates, her science lab partner—it seemed like everybody wanted a chance to congratulate Brooke and wish her a happy summer.
I nodded across to Bryan, then hung back to wait for Brooke to find me. I saw her talking with her mom, then Owen wrapping her in a bear hug and lifting her off her feet.
Moments later she came bounding across the grass to me, crashing into me with a giant hug. My senses flooded with the smell of her peach shampoo.
“We actually did it!” she exclaimed breathlessly. I reached up and gently pulled back the strand of hair that had stuck in her lip gloss.
She rode back to my house with my family, where my parents were hosting a small graduation party.
We spent the evening filling up on food and laughing and talking with my cousins and a few classmates and friends. When I brought Brooke some punch, I saw her engaged in a lively discussion with her friend, Nicole.
I bided my time until the celebration wound down. Guests trickled out the door, and my mom began tidying the kitchen.
I wrapped my hand around Brooke’s elbow, leaning my head to indicate we should go out the back door.
“Fancy a game?” I asked her playfully as we stepped into the May night.
She discarded her heels on one of the patio chairs and set her small purse and flip phone on the iron table.
Pulling a hair tie off her wrist, she effortlessly lifted her long brown hair into a ponytail.
She padded barefoot towards our shed and grabbed the basketball from its familiar place.
The sun had set completely. In only the dim porch light, her white dress seemed to take on an ethereal glow.
“HORSE?” she asked, approaching the tall basket at the end of my driveway with a twinkle in her eye.
I could hold my own in gym class, but she’d always been the more athletic of the two of us. I knew I didn’t stand a chance at sinking more shots than her, but I loved seeing the flush of her skin and hearing her horrible trash-talk whenever there was a competition at stake.
She lined up for a shot and sank it. I attempted the same and missed.
“H,” she said teasingly, bumping her shoulder against mine. My skin tingled from the contact. “Don’t let me make you a HO.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled. Her attempts at lewd humor always fell woefully short, but I kind of loved that about her.
I kind of loved everything about her.
I was one shot from losing when she approached the approximate free-throw line. She grinned widely and turned her back to the net. She took the ball between her legs granny-style and hoisted it above her head, expertly aiming her backwards toss to land in the net with a soft swoosh.
I lined up for the same shot, only mine fell short, missing the goal completely. The ball rolled down the hill beyond our driveway, and Brooke began her victory lap.
Undeterred, I snatched her up and squeezed her waist, laughing as her long legs flailed.
“I wonnnn, I wonnnnnn . . .” she chanted in my ear.
I set her down and gently turned her shoulders so she was facing me.
Her eyes shone in the dim porch light, and I couldn’t wait another second.
I pressed my lips to hers, a shock of electricity flooding my system. I’d given her a soft peck when I dropped her off after prom, but this kiss was bolder, more sure. I tried to fill it with all the emotions and words I wanted to convey.
Then I pulled back and caught her stunned expression.
“Brooke,” my voice came out a rough croak. “B . . .” I started again.
Her eyes searched mine.
“I’m in love with you,” I blurted out.
Her eyes widened, all trace of humor suddenly gone from her expression.
I laughed humorlessly, reaching up to my neck and tugging on strands of my hair.
“I’ve been in love with you as long as I can remember. I think . . . I think I was always meant to find you. I think you’re my soulmate.”
My eyes met hers, searching for answers.
“I . . . need to get home.” She looked like she was trembling.
I looked away, blinking back tears. My heart felt like it was ripping apart inside my chest.
“You don’t have anything to say?” I challenged.
She wouldn’t meet my eye now. She bit her lip, and I longed to reach up and tug it free.
“You’re my best friend . . .” She trailed off.
My heart sank with rejection.
I spun on my heel and stomped towards the house. I glanced back, seeing her grab her shoes and flip her phone open, probably calling Owen for a ride home.
That night I packed my bag for California.
I was up early the next morning for a surf.
I slid into my wetsuit, drowning out everything except my board and the waves.
When I was “in my feels,” so to speak, I wasn’t one to lay about idly.
My body craved movement, action. I’d always been this way.
If I sat still too long, I felt like my restless energy was trying to worm its way out of my body. Surfing was the perfect outlet.
After surfing, I met up with my neighbor Val at Alchemy, the coffee place next to the tattoo shop where she worked.
Val was a straight shooter, never pulled any punches.
She was also a few years older than me, somewhere between 25 and 30.
I felt like maybe I needed her kind of tough love right now to get me out of this funk and help sort through my warring emotions.
I had mentioned Brooke to Val before, though without too many specifics.
She knew I was still harboring a hell of an unrequited crush, since high school, when I’d foolishly tried to put myself out there.
I caught Val up on my latest attempt to reach out to Brooke.
I trusted her to cut through my hopeless feelings and pull me back to reality.
“So she said ‘Don’t call me again’?” Val asked in clarification.
“Not in so many words. She said us talking was confusing. That she didn’t think it was a good idea to stay in touch.” I rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t realize what a habit I had made of tugging at the waves of hair touching my neck until I’d cut them short.
“She said she’s moved on,” I continued, eyes downcast. I looked up at Val morosely.
“Okay, first, the sad puppy look is cute and all, but you know that voodoo doesn’t work on me. I’m batting for the other team, or whatever analogy you sportsball guys like to make.”
See? No punch-pulling for Val.
“Look, I don’t know the girl,” she continued. “Usually I’m all about female autonomy, no means no, all that good shit. But . . . it does sound like she’s conflicted. There’s a chance—a chance—you might still have a window. She agreed to dance with you at the reunion?”
“Yeah,” I perked up. “No hesitation or anything. I can read this girl, Val.” I implored her to understand.
“I’m not bullshitting. Something is up with her.
She doesn’t seem—I don’t know, happy. It’s not like she was always sunshine and rainbows all the time, but I could definitely sense something was going on with her, under the surface.
Not to mention that guy she was with . . .”
I felt my fist begin to clench.
“Okay, calm down, Rambo. Forget the guy. So the guy’s a douche?
Not your problem. Either she’ll wise up and break it off, or she’ll marry him for a couple years and get a quickie divorce.
You can’t break up the wedding. This isn’t one of those bullshit rom-coms where the hot guy swoops in at the last second and the girl best friend magically calls it off. ”
She saw me rear back in shock.
“What?” Val challenged.
“You’ve seen those movies?” I’m sure my eyes were as wide as saucers.
Val shrugged. “I wasn’t always the enlightened, kickass woman you see before you. I had a childhood too, you know.” I tried to imagine Val as a kid, without the facial piercings and dark makeup.
“Right,” I replied, still dumbfounded at this new piece of information.
“So she’s not herself. She lives away from home. Parents not really in the picture?”
I shrugged, uncertain. They hadn’t come up as a topic at the reunion. “Her dad moved away when we were seniors. Her mom . . . I don’t really know.”
“Hm. It sounds like what Brooke needs is a friend.”
“But how can I be her friend if she won’t let me?”
Val thought for a moment. “She’s close with the roommate, right?”
I nodded.
“The roommate gave you her number?” I could see Val’s wheels turning. Any minute now she’d raise one eyebrow and let out a diabolical cackle.
“Yeah, she did. Whitney gave me Brooke’s number.”
“Okay. Girl wisdom tells me that means two things: one, Brooke has talked about you, enough that this Whitney chick feels like she knows you and you’re good enough for her friend.
No way in hell would I give my friend’s number to some rando I didn’t know unless I thought he was good people.
Two, Whitney thinks there’s room for you in Brooke’s life. ”
My eyes lit up. “Val—you’re a genius.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m incredible. Steady your surfboard, though. Something has clearly spooked this girl, enough for her to push you away both at the reunion and on the phone. It doesn’t seem like your whole White Knight approach to rescue the princess and slay the dragon is working for you.”
I rolled my eyes, but she had me. “Fair,” I conceded. “So what—I give up?”
“You give her some space. And you maybe, and I mean maybe, give it one more try. If the roommate slash bestie wasn’t on board, I’d tell you to fuck right off.”
I laughed. “Those etiquette classes are really workin’ for you, Val.”
She stared daggers at me through her dark eyeliner.
“One more try?” I asked, a kernel of hope blooming deep in my chest.
She nodded. “One more try.”