31. Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
T he next morning, muffled voices in the kitchen alert me that I’m likely the last one to wake up, no surprise. I throw on a sweatshirt and stumble to the bathroom to brush my teeth. And my hair. And to splash cold water on my face.
There’s a doctored-up cup of coffee waiting for me when I join Lana, Mateo, and Brooks at the table. “Morning! What’s the plan for today?” I ask before taking a long drink of caffeine.
“We thought we’d eat a quick breakfast here, and then Brooks said he wants to see the Todos Juntos office,” Lana answers.
Mateo cuts in, “Even though I told him it’s a boring office in a commercial building. We practice at different parks and facilities around the area that let us use their spaces for free or highly discounted rates.”
“Hey, if it’s an important part of the daily life of Lana and Mateo, then I want to see the boring building,” Brooks says.
I smile over at him, touched by his interest in my friends.
“And then we planned to head to downtown Baltimore. You can see where I take all my classes, and then we can find something fun to do for a while before we come back here for dinner,” Lana says.
“Sounds good to me!” I chirp, much more enthusiastic now that I’ve had coffee.
We follow Lana’s plan (as one does if you know what’s good for you). We rotate taking showers while eating eggs, bagels, and fruit for breakfast. Once everyone is ready to go, we head out for the day.
When we get to the Todos Juntos office, Brooks ooos and ahhs over everything, despite the truth that it is a plain office. But various team photos line one whole wall, creating a mural of kids’ smiling faces. There are several action shots from games mixed in, and looking at the confident and determined expressions on the players’ faces makes me feel sentimental.
“This is just . . . really cool what you’re doing here,” Brooks says, voice thick with emotion. His gaze sweeps over the photos one last time before we head out to drive to Baltimore.
As Mateo drives, Brooks flips the conversation and drills Lana with questions about her law school experience. “I’ve been so lucky to be at Maryland Carey Law because I could focus on immigration law and get practical experience through the Chacón Center for Immigrant Justice,” she says, turned to face us in the back seat. “Even though I originally wanted to follow in my mom’s footsteps and go to UC Davis, I’m so grateful that God redirected me here.”
“His plans were always better,” Mateo says with a smile, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind Lana’s ear and running his fingers through the length.
“Yeah, I wonder which amazing best friend of yours encouraged you to loosen up on your original plan?” I tease.
“We’re both full of good advice for each other, huh?” Lana teases back, glancing knowingly between Brooks and me.
After we see the building that has served as Lana’s second home the past few years, we stand around discussing what to do next. The sun is shining brightly, but the air is still chilly.
“I vote for something indoors,” I say with a shiver.
“Hey, have you guys ever gone to this glow-in-the-dark splatter paint place?” Brooks asks Lana and Mateo, holding out his phone.
“We haven’t, but it looks fun,” Mateo replies. “Let’s do it.”
“Hold on, I’m not dressed for painting,” Lana says. “This is my favorite sweater.”
“Good point. This is also my favorite sweater of Lana’s,” Mateo says with a grin. He pulls Lana toward him to kiss her.
“No sweaters will be harmed in the making of splatter art—they have full hazmat suits and goggles that you put on,” Brooks says, pointing to the description on the TripAdvisor listing.
“Ooo, and you get to choose your own music!” I add, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Please, Lana, please? ”
We reserve a room online, and we make our way there. Brooks chooses a music playlist while we don our protective outfits and take a few “before” photos together.
“We look like we’re ready to tackle a pandemic,” Brooks says.
“I would absolutely be wearing a mask over my mouth and nose if we were walking into a pandemic,” Lana says. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure how much I trust having any part of my face exposed when I’m in the same room with the three of you plus paint.”
Mateo waggles his eyebrows at her. “You’ll have only yourself to blame for planting the idea in my mind.”
The employee shows us to our reserved room and shuts us in. There are four canvases on easels around the room. A central table holds squirt bottles filled with neon paint as well as cups of paint with brushes and syringes inside for more precise splatters. EDM music starts pumping through the speaker, and I’m immediately dancing as I choose my first paint color. The luminescent glow of the black lights adds to the upbeat ambiance as we begin squirting and flicking paint at our canvases.
I’m splashing bright colors at my canvas with abandon, and Brooks is essentially using every viral dance move as a means of throwing color on his. I’m laughing at his Soulja Boy moves when I hear a groan from Lana.
“Ugh, I ruined it. The purple was only supposed to be in this section,” Lana says. I can picture her furrowed brow beneath the giant goggles.
“It’s splatter paint, LaLa. You’re not supposed to have a plan,” I chide.
“Let it go, babe,” Mateo says as he flicks a giant splotch of purple paint onto Lana’s canvas. Her mouth drops open, and she aims a paint-laden paintbrush directly at Mateo, splattering his hazmat suit with neon paint.
His dimple pops as a boyish grin takes over his face, right before he gently splashes a few droplets of paint at Lana’s face, speckling her cheeks with glowing purple freckles. Before she can react, he swoops in to kiss her. She drags a paintbrush across his cheek in revenge, but I can see her smiling against Mateo’s lips .
“They’re so adorable,” Brooks stage-whispers in my ear. I boop his nose with neon blue paint before quickly kissing his lips.
“Spin me!” I demand as I pick up two squirt bottles at random. Brooks wastes no time in wrapping his arms around my waist, then rapidly whirls around as I squeeze the bottles. I’m laughing as he sets me back down to assess the effect.
“Well, that didn’t really get much paint on the canvas, but still a ten out of ten experience,” I say. The version of “Sky Full of Stars” that we listened to in the car on the way to the silent disco starts playing, and I’m suddenly too busy jump-dancing to worry about my painting. Brooks joins in, and Mateo and Lana aren’t far behind. It’s not long before paint makes an entrance to the dance party.
The music abruptly cuts off and an employee opens the door to let us know our hour is up. We jerk to a standstill as the employee side eyes our paint-covered hazmat suits. He gives us instructions to bring our paintings to the clean-up area before massively rolling his eyes as he leaves.
“I feel like I got sent to the principal’s office,” Brooks stage-whispers again. He’s usually hard to take seriously, but especially with a blue nose and multi-colored cheeks. We all burst out laughing, which causes the poor employee to come back and remind us to follow him. Brooks convinces him to take a few pictures of us first, and then we obediently file to the clean-up room.
“That was sooo fun,” I exclaim as we exit the building. “Top five experiences ever.”
“Really? Top five?” Mateo asks.
“Teegan’s ‘top five’ is probably more like a list of thirty things,” Lana scoffs.
I shrug. “I can’t help it if I enjoy life.”
“There’s too much to enjoy!” Brooks agrees, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walk. “This painting will now be the focal point of my apartment decor.”
“Which isn’t saying much, considering that the walls are currently bare,” I tease, poking him in the side .
“I’m starving,” Lana says. “All that paint-throwing and dancing around burned through every calorie I’ve eaten today. Let’s grab some dinner here before we head back to the apartment.”
“There’s a jazz club down the block,” Mateo says, looking at the map on his phone. “Want to stow our paintings in the car and walk over there?”
Since it’s early evening on a Sunday, the jazz club isn’t too packed. We order food and enjoy the music as we chat.
“So, are you hoping to specifically work with kids once you’re a licensed therapist?” Brooks asks Mateo.
“That’s the plan,” Mateo replies with a nod. “Well, I guess more so teenagers than kids. Probably middle or high school age. But I’ll wait until I have some supervised clinical experience under my belt before I officially choose a specialty.”
“That’s awesome, bro,” Brooks says. He continues asking more questions, but my attention is pulled away by Lana leaning in to talk in my ear.
“He’s really great, Teegs,” she says, and I pull back just enough so that she can see my smile. “How are you feeling about things?”
“I feel amazing about it,” I whisper back to her. “I know I was hesitant at first—”
“Which was wise,” Lana cuts in.
I nod. “Taking it slow was wise. But now, I’m one hundred percent happy. It’s like I was watching an incredible movie and enjoying the experience, but then someone came and dropped 3D glasses over my eyes. Brooks makes everything fuller, more immersive. He’s like a fun-intensifier, if that was a thing.”
Lana rolls her eyes. “Which is exactly what you needed since you tend to never have fun ever.”
I playfully push her shoulder, and she grins at me. “I like seeing starry-eyed Teegan,” she says seriously, though she’s still smiling. The song the band was playing ends, so we sit back to clap. When they slip into a slow melody, Mateo is quick to hold out a hand and ask Lana to dance.
Brooks and I follow them to the small dance floor near our table, and he tugs me close to him. Behind me, Mateo dips a giggling Lana before kissing her, and I see Brooks smile at them before he returns his gaze to mine.
“You have awesome friends, Sneaks,” he says, voice low beneath the music.
“I do. And they’re your friends now too,” I respond as we sway with the beat. “I’m so glad you suggested this trip. I didn’t even realize how much it would mean to me for you to get to know Lana and Mateo until we were here.”
“I’ve loved seeing you with Lana and hearing you all talk more about your college years,” Brooks says. “It seems like every day I learn more about who you’ve become and how you got here. And I’m more in awe of you with every new revelation. Compared to who you are, I feel so undeser—”
I cut off his sentence with a kiss. “You’re not allowed to say those things anymore, remember?” I remind him with a soft smile. His smile mirrors mine as he presses another gentle kiss to my lips.
Laying my head on his shoulder, I tuck my nose into the crook of his neck. I’m absolutely the type to chase the thrill of exciting experiences. But the sensation of being tucked tightly in the safety of Brooks’ arms might just be the best kind of adrenaline rush.