27. Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
“ N o, you have to jump higher initially if you’re going to get both legs up over my arm,” Brooks says, breathing hard from laughing.
We’ve been in my living room for the past two hours, attempting every couples challenge we could find. At least, every one that wouldn’t put any of our body parts in awkward places. I may be in love with the man, but I’m not quite ready for my booty to be all up in his face.
We got the upside-down move on our first try, which gave us false confidence. Other challenges took several efforts, but we’ve managed to nail each one so far.
The challenge we’re currently filming looks like a deceptively simple kickover move, but it requires me to raise both feet above our clasped hands before he tips me backward over his other arm, which is around my waist.
Given my dance background, I expected this to be a breeze, but twenty-eight failed attempts later, we’re both rolling on the floor laughing rather than making serious progress. Maybe it’s the hysterical laughter that’s inhibiting our efforts. Not sure which is the chicken and which is the egg.
Regardless, we’ll likely have hours of bloopers recorded on my phone by the time we ever get this right.
I’m flat on my back on the floor again, Brooks hunched over me, hyperventilating with laughter for the thirtieth time. “That’s . . . it!” I gasp between laughs. “I . . . give up! ”
Brooks reaches a hand out to pull me to my feet. “I think we need to play to our strengths better. Let’s learn some dances instead.”
And thus, another two hours pass with us learning and performing one viral dance after another. We take turns picking the dances, only taking short breaks to refuel with candy. Nothing like a good jolt of sugar to keep the dance moves flowing.
Brooks was right—this is absolutely playing to our strengths. We manage to nail each dance in a fraction of the time it took us to figure out any of the gymnastic challenges. Each time we play back a finished product, I can’t help but smile at how good we look dancing together.
Totally in sync. Vibing with each other’s energy. Playing up each other’s best moves.
Eyeing each other with intense “I want you” expressions.
It’s honestly getting a little warm in here, and I’m not sure that has everything to do with the physical exercise.
Brooks swipes a hand through his tousled hair, smoothing it back into place. “All right—we totally slayed, but I’m cooked.”
“You and your Gen Alpha slang,” I say with a laugh. Brooks grins and holds up his hands in a “whatever” gesture. He flops onto the loveseat, grabbing my hand to pull me down with him. I lean my back against the arm of the loveseat, tenting my knees over Brooks’ outstretched legs. He wraps an arm around my knees, hugging them to his chest.
He props his head against his other hand, arm leaning on the back of the loveseat. “So, tell me something about you that would surprise me.”
I tilt my head. “Something that would surprise you?”
“Yeah, you know—something I’ve missed these past years that I wouldn’t expect from you,” he says.
“ Hmmm .” My eyes search the ceiling for an idea. “I hated my public speaking class.”
Brooks raises his eyebrows. “But why? You’re a natural at talking in front of people.”
“I don’t mind attention or telling stories to groups of people on the fly. There was something about preparing a memorized speech that I couldn’t get into. It felt too rehearsed,” I say .
He nods thoughtfully. “I guess I could see that. But you know I’d sit and listen to you spout off memorized facts all day.”
I nudge his chest playfully with my knees. “Your turn. Something surprising.”
Brooks leans forward with an earnest expression. “You would never have guessed this, but I became a teacher.”
Now I gently kick his chest with one foot. “I already told you that surprised me, so that doesn’t count. Try again.”
He taps a finger on his chin. “The summer after my freshman year of college, I traveled with a group to run a basketball camp in Germany.”
I shake my head. “While interesting, you wanting to travel internationally is zero percent surprising. Or to play basketball. Try harder, Brooks,” I admonish, punching his arm.
“Fine, fine. I like to cook and watch The Food Network for fun,” he says.
“Really?” I question, eyebrows raised. “You learned to cook? That is completely surprising.”
“Well, after . . .” He pauses. “I stayed with my dad for a while after my mom . . . I wanted to do something to help my dad. He basically only ate takeout unless someone brought him food. So, I learned to cook for us.”
Follow-up questions about how his dad dealt with Angela’s death—how he dealt with her death—linger on the tip of my tongue, but they hesitate to come out as spoken words.
“Tag. You’re it,” Brooks says, tapping my shoulder. “Surprise me again.”
“I worked at McDonald’s one summer,” I state.
Brooks’ mouth falls open. “I don’t believe you.”
After briefly laughing, I explain. “At the Summer Projects with Arrow in Florida, we worked during the days and did Bible studies and leadership training in the evenings. Of course, the most popular jobs available were the ones on the beach or in retail at the outlet malls, which I did work the other two summers. But after my sophomore year, I decided to take one of the less-desirable jobs.”
Brooks shakes his head slowly, an expression I can’t quite read in his eyes. “I bet that McDonald’s manager thanked their lucky stars to have you working there for the summer. You were probably the most cheerful McDonald’s employee ever,” he says.
The warmth in his eyes as he gazes at me makes my heart slowly catch fire. “Your turn,” I murmur quietly, not looking away.
“Well, I can tell you one thing that was entirely unsurprising,” Brooks says, taking a deep breath. “The way my feelings for you clicked right back into place. Least surprising thing in the world.”
I bite my lip, breaking eye contact. Looking back up, I lean my head against my hand, mirroring his position. “When did you know?”
He lets out a breathy laugh. “The second I walked in and saw you, I knew it was a matter of time. At least, assuming that you were single and that you were anything like your old self. My heart saw you and just thought, ‘Oh, there you are.’ Like I’d been waiting all these years for you, not even realizing I was waiting.”
Brooks looks down as his thumb traces circles on the side of my knee. “It’s not like I was sitting around pining for you all those years. I don’t think I ever consciously thought I’d get another chance with you. But subconsciously, I could never really care deeply for any of the women I tried to date, which is why I barely dated. I wasn’t willfully holding out for only you. But once I saw you again, my heart could finally release the breath it had been holding for all those years.”
He reaches over to cup my cheek. “When you shut me down from trying to apologize on the car ride back from the silent disco, I was worried that your heart wouldn’t ever feel that same exhale of relief. I tried to convince myself that seeing you was merely my chance to stop subconsciously living in a holding pattern, to be open to a relationship with someone else in the future.”
My voice is barely a whisper. “When did you know?” I repeat, looking for a different answer now.
A thoughtful smile quirks Brooks’ lips. “When you were sick. Specifically, when you fell asleep during Trolls , and your hand somehow found its way to mine while you were sleeping. That small gesture gave my heart a taste of hope. Even if you weren’t knowingly ready to give us another chance, that maybe your subconscious wanted it. Wanted me. ”
His blue eyes look a shade darker now, his stare making my heart race.
“I always wanted you, Brooks. That’s why I was scared. I was scared to still want you,” I whisper.
We move to each other in one fluid motion, our lips finding each other like complementary magnets. My hands are in his hair while his hands wind around my knees and my waist, pulling me closer. I sigh as he deepens our kiss, but seconds later he breaks away.
“It’s time for me to go home, Sneaks,” he murmurs, voice raspy. I nod, then quickly swivel my feet to the floor to stand. As much as my lips are screaming at the loss of contact from his, I’m so grateful for the way he’s respecting our boundaries. Not just mine, but ours .
I walk him to the door, and he presses one last kiss to my lips. His smile turns playful as he says, “You’d better be sending me all the good footage from tonight. And I’m not talking about only the polished moments where we nailed it. I want the moments where you’re falling to the floor.”
Rolling my eyes, I playfully shove him out the door. “Goodnight, Brooks.”