30. Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
LANA
Teegs, don’t you dare mess with me about this or I will disown you as my Beef
I’m dead serious. We really want to fly there tomorrow morning. The flights are pulled up and everything
LANA
YES!!!! omg I can’t believe I’ll get to see you!!
dancing emoji
LANA
Sleeping arrangements won’t be ideal but we’ll make it work. We have an air mattress we can put in the small office and one of you can sleep on the couch. Unless you want to get a hotel
Heck no I don’t want a hotel. I want every possible minute with you
“I’m assuming the huge grin on your face means Lana said yes?” Brooks asks. We’re parked down the street from my dad’s house.
“Yes! Their apartment is pretty small, so if you don’t want to sleep on a couch or air mattress, then you can look for a hotel. But I’m totally staying with them,” I say.
“Like I’m gonna miss out on the fun? I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to,” Brooks replies, eyes alight.
No hotels necessary. Brooks is down for sleeping wherever so we can hang with you guys the whole time! Could you pick us up from the airport at 11 a.m.?
LANA
Absolutely. Text me your flight info once you have it
salute emoji
LANA
I’M SO EXCITED
Same!!!
“Tickets are booked,” Brooks says, showing me his phone screen. "I’ll need to pick you up to head to the airport around six-thirty in the morning. Sure you can pull that off, Aurora?”
He smirks, and I punch him in the arm. He grabs my hand before I can pull back my punch and tugs me toward him. My head comes to rest against his shoulder, and I nuzzle my face into his neck. His fingers reach up to lazily wind their way through my hair.
Brooks nudges my chin with his thumb, tilting my head back to make eye contact.
“Thank you.”
The words are quiet and solitary. I know the full weight behind those eight letters, just as much as I know Brooks isn’t going to expound further.
I reach my right hand up to trace his jawline, then gently press my finger into the cleft of his chin. There’s a layer of stubble there that’s a contrast to Brooks’ typically clean-shaven face. Further evidence of the emotional toll of this weekend that we aren’t speaking aloud. I see it all in his eyes, even in the darkness of the car interior.
Leaning forward, I erase the inches of distance between our lips. The stubble I traced with my fingers now pricks my chin, accentuating the softness of Brooks’ lips against mine. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me as close to him as the car console will allow.
Brooks breaks away from my lips long enough to sear a burning path along my jaw, behind my ear, down my neck. When his lips return to mine, there’s an urgency to the press of his mouth. As though this kiss was the balm to heal all the pain of this day.
The pain of all the years apart from each other.
I never want it to end. I’ll forgo oxygen, sleep, food, water—all of life’s supposed necessities—if it means I can stay here in the intoxication of Brooks’ kiss.
But we both know it needs to end before it doesn’t. We simultaneously pull away from each other. As the car fills with the sound of our heavy breaths, I see Brooks trying and failing to formulate words.
“I better get some sleep if I’m going to make it to our flight in the morning. Sleeping Beauty needed sleep for a reason,” I joke. Brooks gives a half smile, then pulls me into a gentle hug. Once again burying my face under his chin, I breathe a kiss onto his neck before sitting up. He puts the car into drive and takes my hand for the short distance to my dad’s driveway.
“Six-thirty sharp, Sneaks. Don’t make me come in there with a bucket of ice,” Brooks threatens, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. I flick his arm before opening the car door.
“Trust me—I’m not going to be late for the chance to see one of my Beefs in person,” I say. I move to retrieve my bag from the back seat, but Brooks has somehow beat me to it.
“I’ll walk you up to the door and say hi to your dad,” he says. “Seems like the gentlemanly thing to do.”
As we step into the entryway, I call out, “Dad! I’m here!” Footsteps immediately sound, and my dad rounds the corner, still dressed in jeans and a polo shirt despite the late hour. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my dad in sweats, come to think of it.
Dad’s smile stays put at the sight of Brooks with me, thanks to my lengthy explanation of our relationship on Christmas Day. I learned my lesson about the men in my life being blind-sided by the reappearance of Brooks .
He extends a hand toward Brooks, who shakes it firmly. “Good to see you, Mr. Jones.”
“You too, Brooks. I’m glad about how things have worked out. And call me Morgan,” my dad responds.
“I’m not staying, but I wanted to say hello,” Brooks tells him before turning to me. “See you tomorrow.” He places a swift kiss on my cheek, entirely sweet and chaste in front of my dad. But that doesn’t mean my skin doesn’t burn afterward.
Dad hugs me and takes my bag after Brooks leaves. “Everything go okay today?”
I follow him to the kitchen because I need a long drink of water after that intense kiss in the car. Following an already-intense day.
“Yeah, as good as it could go, I guess. It was nice to see Brooks’ dad and brother and be there with them,” I reply, hoping he won’t press for more details. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
I chug a glass of water.
“So, would Brooks like to join us for lunch or dinner tomorrow?” Dad asks.
Shoot .
“Oh, um, about that,” I stammer. I feel my cheeks heating. “We sorta booked flights to D.C. first thing in the morning.”
“You what?”
“We decided to fly out and visit Lana and Mateo since it’s a long weekend. Kinda spur-of-the-moment. You know me!” The words rush out of my mouth as I take in my dad’s disappointed face.
“I do know,” Dad mumbles. “I was looking forward to spending a little time with you this weekend.”
I didn’t even think about how our last-minute adventure would affect my dad. Gah, Teegan! “I’m sorry! I promise I’ll come back to visit again soon. Brooks needs something fun to distract him this weekend. I think he’d rather not be here in KC the whole time, around all the reminders,” I rapidly explain.
Dad raises his eyebrows. “Only Brooks?”
I drum my fingers on the empty water glass I’m still clutching. I shrug .
“It’s okay.” My dad sighs. “I know you haven’t seen Lana in a long time. I’m glad you’ll get the chance. I just . . . I would really like to have some time together. Soon.”
“I promise,” I vow, exaggeratedly nodding my head. “Brooks is picking me up super early though, so I should head to bed for tonight.”
“All right. Let me know if you need anything,” Dad says. He gives me another hug goodnight. I don’t miss the droop of his shoulders as he retreats to his room.
It’s okay, Teegan. You can come back in a few weeks. But for now, let’s focus on Lana!
And Brooks.
Let’s be real—a good chunk of my focus has permanently shifted to Brooks.
“BEEF!” Lana’s voice squeals, alerting me to her incoming embrace.
“LaLa!” I squeal back, essentially jumping into her arms.
Any and all onlookers are probably avoiding the crazy women jumping, hugging, and screaming on the sidewalk.
“I’m so glad you decided to come visit!” Lana exclaims in my ear, still squeezing me in a tight hug. “This is the best spontaneous surprise ever.”
I catch sight of Mateo over Lana’s shoulder, dimple popping on his right cheek as he grins at our outlandish display of affection. Letting go of Lana, I give Mateo a side hug as I motion Brooks over.
“Brooks, you got to meet Lana at my birthday, but this is her husband, Mateo,” I introduce. “Mateo, meet my boyfriend, Brooks.”
They shake hands and exchange greetings. “Thanks so much for bringing Teegan to D.C.,” Mateo says. “I probably won’t have to buy any gifts for Lana for the rest of the year. This will be enough to keep her happy.”
Lana rolls her eyes. “Like that would stop you from getting me anything.”
“Fair point,” Mateo says, winking at Lana .
Just like old times. It’s good to see the spark doesn’t die.
Brooks is quick to take my small suitcase from me, so I’m free to loop my arm through Lana’s as we walk toward the parking garage. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Well, that’s up to you,” Lana says. “We can take you guys to some of the typical D.C. tourist spots, or we can stick closer to the Silver Spring area and show you around our daily life. Your pick.”
“Real life, for sure,” Brooks chimes in. Given his profession, I’m a little surprised he wouldn’t jump at the chance to tour the nation’s capital. My heart melts that he would set aside his interest in history to defer to my interest in my best friend’s world.
“Yes, I’d much rather hang out with you guys on your real stomping grounds. I’ll bring Brooks back some other time to see all the old stone buildings,” I say with a teasing grin over my shoulder at Brooks. He catches my eye and gives a wry smile back.
“Okay, we’ll have most of the day to hang out, but Mateo is coaching one indoor soccer game a little closer to D.C. later this afternoon. You can come with us, or we can drop you off at a coffee shop or something,” Lana says once we’re in their car.
“That depends,” I muse, leaning up between the front seats. “Mateo, will we get to see fiery Soccer Lana in action?”
Mateo laughs, then pokes Lana’s side. “You know it’s impossible to keep her from showing up in the stands.”
“Then we’re in,” I state with a grin, sitting back in my seat. Lana huffs and crosses her arms. But she knows she can’t contradict us.
Lana and I chatter the whole drive to their apartment, hardly allowing the guys to get a word in edgewise. After dropping off our suitcases at the apartment and briefly freshening up, we walk to a nearby café for lunch.
“So, Brooks, tell us more about yourself,” Mateo says once we’re seated with our food.
“I could take that answer a variety of directions,” Brooks says. “Door number one, two, or three?”
“All the doors,” Lana replies before taking a bite of her panini.
Brooks recaps the highlights of his life from high school till now, mostly sharing information I’ve heard already. Lana interjects with detailed follow-up questions like the lawyer-in-training she is, which leads to me hearing a couple of stories that I haven’t heard yet. Like the time Brooks got benched for two games because he got caught sneaking into a building on campus late at night.
“Listen, everyone swore that the old theater in that building was haunted. We were just checking it out!” Brooks says, defending himself. “Students did it all the time—literally every day—but Coach benched us since we were athletes on scholarship.”
“What position did you play?” Mateo asks.
“Point guard,” Brooks replies. “I was never tall or bulky enough to play center or forward.”
“I’m going to confess: I know nothing about basketball,” Lana says. She turns to Mateo. “Can you translate to soccer terms?”
“Point guard would be sort of a combination of forward and midfielder,” Mateo replies. “Lots of ball handling and passing to keep the offense moving. But still important on defense.”
Brooks chimes in, “Yeah, the point guard controls the pace of the game and runs the offense. I would defend against the opposing team’s good ball handlers, but I wasn’t ever the big guy in the middle rebounding.”
Lana nods. “Okay, that makes sense. I can see the midfielder similarities.”
The sports talk is pretty much going over my head, but I don’t mind. “Well, if anyone needs tips on cha?né turns or switch leaps, I’m your girl.” I dramatically flip my hair.
Brooks wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close enough to kiss the top of my head. “Yes, you are.” Then he turns back to Mateo. “Bro, I want to hear more about your time playing professionally. What was that like?”
“Oh, it was League Two, not the pro pros,” Mateo says.
“Don’t let his humility fool you,” Lana jumps in. “He was amazing. He was on his way up had he not ruptured his Achilles.”
Brooks grimaces. “Ouch. That sounds rough.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t an enjoyable experience,” Mateo replies. “But God used it to redirect my focus. I really did love playing professionally and the relationships with my teammates. I’m incredibly grateful that I got the opportunity to continue playing after college.” He pauses to wink at Lana. “But I’ve been so happy this year being able to devote my full attention to the Todos Juntos soccer club and my master’s classes.” Mateo gives a brief overview of the nonprofit he started, Lana occasionally chiming in with additional details.
“That sounds incredible,” Brooks says, looking thoughtful. “So, you coordinate with the local school counselors to identify kids who could benefit from the program?”
Mateo nods. “Yes, we couldn’t do it without them. We’ve leaned a lot on their expertise and personal knowledge of the kids to build some of the character lessons that we teach through Todos Juntos in addition to the soccer skills. It’s much more impactful to have an integrated approach between their education at school and how we supplement.”
I look at the glazed over, starry-eyed look on Brooks’ face and realize a bromance has been born today. A giggle escapes before I can stop myself.
They all look at me quizzically.
I wave a hand. “You have no idea the monster you tapped into, Mateo. Brooks is all about building community involvement in the local schools. It’s the heartbeat of his professional outlook.”
“Speaking of, I’d love to hear more about your experience with The Hangout while you were there, Lana,” Brooks says, turning his attention to her. “Teegan told me you were an ELL tutor, and I’ve gotten to know Sofia a little bit on Tuesdays. Well, even more so once she figured out I was interested in Teegan. She suddenly had frequent reasons to talk to me.”
Lana bursts out laughing. “That sounds like the Sofia I know.” She begins sharing about her experience with Brooks, and I notice Brooks leans in with a furrowed brow, as focused as I’ve ever seen him as he grills her with questions. Lana meets his intensity brow for brow, lean for lean.
Mateo smiles and raises his eyebrows at me from across the table. I successfully stifle my laugh this time.
I stifle zero laughs once we get to the soccer game. Even though the team consists of fourth graders, Lana cheers them on (and yells at the refs) as though watching one of Mateo’s professional matches. It’s exactly how I remember her when I accompanied her to the soccer matches our senior year, after they started dating.
“I understand now,” Brooks whispers in my ear, nodding his head in Lana’s direction. His exaggerated wide-eye expression forces another burst of giggles out of me. For as much as Lana is losing her mind, Mateo is completely calm and collected, calling out instructions in both English and Spanish to the players on the field. Watching them huddle around him and his white board during half time is about as adorable as you could get.
After Mateo’s team wins the match, Lana heads to help pass out post-game snacks. Brooks and I follow her down, and he’s soon in the thick of the kids, congratulating them and pointing out all their good moves. The crowd eventually dissipates as the players follow one of the other coaches out of the complex.
“So do you provide transportation to and from the games?” Brooks asks Mateo as we walk out to the car.
“Yep. A lot of these kids wouldn’t have a parent or guardian available to get them to and from games and practices. They’re working long hours at multiple jobs most of the time,” Mateo responds, and Brooks nods thoughtfully.
“We got a grant to provide healthy snacks for the kids too,” Lana says. “They get a snack at the beginning of every practice or game and again at the end. Otherwise, too many of them would be trying to exercise on empty stomachs.”
“The wraparound support really is phenomenal,” Brooks says. He taps his temple. “I’m taking lots of mental notes.”
We pick up pizza for dinner, taking it back to the apartment. After eating, Lana suggests we play team Dutch Blitz, a popular card game among Arrow students during college. We fill Brooks in on the rules, and he catches on quickly. We’re soon beating Lana and Mateo every hand.
“Ugh,” Lana whines. She turns to Mateo. “Babe, stop being so nice! You’ve got to let your competitive side out. Division playoffs mode—come on!”
Mateo pinches her waist and leans over to kiss her neck. “You’re competitive enough for both of us! ”
“That’s it!” Lana exclaims, playfully pushing Mateo away. “We’re playing boys versus girls.”
“Yes!” I exclaim, high-fiving Lana.
Brooks fist bumps Mateo and says, “The Beefs versus the Bros.”
Of course, Mateo pulls out all the stops now, simply to get a rise out of Lana. We’re all shrieking and practically slapping each other’s hands as we smack cards down on piles. When all is said and done, the Bros are victorious and the Beefs are stewing.
I’m sulky about the loss, and Lana is straight up glaring daggers at Mateo. Brooks and Mateo are celebrating with dramatic flair, dancing as though completely unbothered by our ire.
Mateo breaks first (no surprise there). He stands behind Lana and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “Come on now—don’t be a sore loser.” Lana’s frown remains firmly in place, but Mateo whispers something that causes her to fight a smile. Then he says, “How about we go get slushies? That always makes everything better.”
Lana huffs her agreement, and we both drop our angry acts.
Brooks quirks an eyebrow, looking over at me. “Slushies? Why slushies?”
Mateo claps him on the back. “You still have so much to learn. Don’t worry—you’ll soon be acquainted with all the Beefs lore.”