thirty-two #2
We sprawled across the couch, my phone propped on a pillow. The second Tati's face appeared, she squealed, "Look at my girls!"
"Who are you getting cute for?" I asked, noticing her eyeliner was too precise for a normal day.
"Myself," she said, flipping her hair like she was in a commercial.
Sam leaned into the frame. "Mira's out here living like she's in a movie."
I groaned. "Don't start."
The three of us fell into our old chaos—talking over each other, roasting outfits, sharing random updates. Sam told us about a new guy she was seeing, Tati modeled a pair of boots she thrifted, and I just sat there watching them, feeling that warm, familiar pull in my chest.
It felt like us again. Loud, ridiculous, and a little bit all over the place.
Almost enough to make me forget the photo burning a hole in my camera roll. Almost.
Sam flopped back into the couch cushions after we hung up with Tati, grinning like her cheeks hurt. "God, I miss that girl. She's living her best life out there."
"I know," I said, smiling even though a small ache sat underneath it.
Sam laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, I need to head home. I'm working tonight, and if I'm late, Tim will have my head."
I walked her to the door. "Text me when you get there."
"You already know I will." She pulled me into one more hug. "I love you, Mira. For real."
"I love you too."
She left with a wave, and I stood in the quiet, letting the stillness settle. The place felt bigger without her laughter bouncing off the walls.
I was halfway through rinsing our glasses when my phone buzzed on the counter. Brooks.
"Hey," I answered, trying not to sound like I'd been waiting to hear from him all day.
"Hi, beautiful," he said, voice warm and lazy. "What are you doing?"
"Just cleaning up. Sam was over."
"I know," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Monte told me she was parked out front when he came by earlier."
"You keeping tabs on me now?"
"Only enough to make sure I'm not missing anything important." He paused. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Think you can meet me in the living room when I get there? Preferably naked."
The way he said it—low, certain—made my pulse trip. "Maybe," I said, pretending to be casual.
"Don't make me come find you," he teased, and then the line went quiet except for the faint sound of him breathing.
"I'll be here," I said finally.
"Good," he replied, then hung up before I could change my mind.
By the time I heard the front door, I'd been sitting on the couch for hours, legs tucked under me, laptop closed on the coffee table.
The TV was on, but I hadn't been watching it.
My mind kept looping back to that photo—the perfect angle, her hand on his arm like it belonged there, his smile that could be read a thousand ways.
It wasn't the first time I'd seen him in a picture like that. But it was the first time I felt it in my chest. The reminder that whatever we were, it would never be something I could show off without consequence. Not in his world. Not in public.
The door from the garage clicked open, and his voice followed almost immediately.
"I thought I said naked in the living room," Brooks teased as he set his keys down, walking in with his suit jacket slung over his arm.
I managed a smile, but it felt paper-thin. "Guess I missed the memo."
He dropped onto the couch beside me, arm stretching across the back, his thumb brushing my shoulder. "Rough day?"
I hesitated. "I saw the pictures from the event."
He stilled for a moment, then let out a short breath. "Ah."
"Ah?" I repeated, my voice sharper than I meant.
"It was a PR thing," he said, like that was the period at the end of the sentence. "We've talked about this before."
"I know," I said quietly. "But knowing and... seeing it are different."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You think I like doing that? Pretending to laugh at whatever Margot's saying for the cameras?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "You looked pretty comfortable."
That got me a look. "Comfortable is the point. It works better if it looks natural."
I nodded slowly, eyes on the coffee table. "Right. Natural."
He reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "Amira, it's politics. Optics. That's all."
"I believe you," I said, though part of me wasn't sure I did. "But I also know I'm never gonna be in a picture like that with you."
He didn't answer right away. "It's not that simple."
"I know," I murmured, even though my chest still ached.
We sat there for a moment, the space between us full of things we weren't saying. He squeezed my hand once before standing, offering a quieter, "You hungry?" like maybe the subject could be folded away for later.
"I'm not really hungry," I said, though I knew I hadn't eaten since breakfast.
Brooks lingered for a moment before heading into the kitchen. I heard the sound of the fridge door, the quiet clink of bottles shifting. A minute later, he came back with a glass of water and set it in front of me.
"Drink," he said, sitting down again.
I took a sip just to humor him.
He watched me for a beat. "I hate that picture got in your head."
"It's not just the picture," I admitted. "It's... what it represents. That you have this whole life I can't be part of."
His jaw flexed, like he was deciding what to say. "You are part of my life. The most important part."
I let out a small, humorless laugh. "Just not the part anyone can see."
He shifted closer, his hand finding the back of my neck, thumb brushing my hairline. "I'd put you in every photo if I could. But right now, that's not the game I'm playing. And I need you to trust me on that."
I searched his face for any trace of insincerity. There wasn't any—just that stubborn sincerity he always carried when he wanted me to believe him.
"I do trust you," I said finally, even though part of me still felt raw.
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."
Something in my chest loosened, even if the ache didn't disappear completely. I kissed him softly, letting the conversation fade into the warmth of his hand at my cheek.
When I pulled back, his smile had softened into something quieter. "You sure you're not hungry?"
"Maybe a little," I admitted.
"Perfect," he said, standing and holding out a hand. "Come keep me company while I cook."
I took it, letting him pull me up, the weight in my chest still there but not quite as heavy.
Hi Guys,
This update took so long. Ideally I wanted to upload four at once but the last one isn't ready and the third and fourth one kind of go hand in hand.
Hoping to update two more times by the end of tonight ??.