Flirting With Maybe (5 page)

So he said nothing.

One August afternoon they were sitting on his couch, watching baseball. She’d zoned out and gone quiet.

“I’m pretty sure Steve still likes you.” Ryan didn’t know what made him say it. Maybe it was because he thought she was lonely for a boyfriend, and in a moment of selflessness, he realized if he couldn’t have her, he wanted her to have a guy like Steve. Steve had kind of been cheated out of his chance by J.J. Not that Ryan was really complaining. In fact, he now wished he could take back the comment.

Brooke had her legs tucked beneath her and her elbow propped on the back of the couch, facing him. He held his breath for her reaction.

“It’s too late for us,” she said. “And I don’t want a long-distance relationship.”

Thoughts hurled themselves at Ryan, and the dull panic he’d suppressed all summer thrust itself to the forefront of his mind. She was pulling away. She’d been opening up to him less and less, more quiet in general.

“You’re not coming back, are you?” he asked.

She didn’t seem surprised by the question.

“I need a change, Ry.”

“I know, but . . .”

She reached across the space and took his hand. “We’ll email and Skype,” she promised. “I won’t forget about you.”

But he didn’t believe her. She’d grow roots where she was planted and come to life for all those new people. A fresh start. And though he probably should have been happy for her, it made him sick to his stomach. Because he knew he was losing her. They all were.

He picked her up the following weekend for the end-of-summer party at Jackie’s. The graduates would all be leaving that week, and it was a strange, bleak feeling being one of the ones left behind.

Ryan didn’t drink since he was driving, but he noticed a constant cup in Brooke’s hand. Ryan socialized with everyone and got a lot of attention as the only underclassman to be fully embraced by the older group. They kind of spoiled and teased him like a kid brother, and he had to admit he’d miss them. It was the end of an era.

The party got louder and rowdier as the night went on. It was their last night together, and they wanted to do it right. Jackie turned on the stereo in the living room and the girls gathered in a circle, singing to one another at the top of their lungs, drinks lifted high, and arms draped over shoulders. Most of the guys stood in the kitchen or sat at the table playing cards. They watched the girls and shook their heads at one another, but it was all in fun. Those were their girls. No matter where everyone ended up after this, they’d always be a part of one another—united in a shared past of hookups and breakups, love and heartache, choices and lessons.

At eleven o’clock Jackie’s older brother came in with a couple of his friends, carrying cases of beer under their arms. “Who’s up for some beer pong?” he asked.

The volume rose and the party shifted to the basement. Beer cans were everywhere. Half the people were sitting on couches or dancing to the music, while the other half crowded around the beer pong game.

One of Jackie’s brother’s friends was talking to Brooke—some older dude with slicked-back hair. He was a close talker, moving in until he had her by the wall. She shook her head and repeatedly tucked her hair behind her ears, giving the guy small, polite smiles as he spoke. Ryan watched from the other side of the room and saw the exact moment when the guy reached out for Brooke’s arm, spilling a little of the beer from her red cup.

Her body language spoke volumes when she tensed and her shoulders curled inward, like she was trying to make herself smaller. She angled herself away from him, eyes skittering around the room for an escape. Ryan was on his way before her eyes even made it to him. When she saw him, relief smoothed her features. He stuck out a hand and she took it.

“Ready to dance?” he asked.

The guy scowled at Ryan. “We’re talking.”

“Oh, I promised I’d dance with him,” Brooke told the guy.

She clung to Ryan’s arm as he led her away, until they were on the far side of the dancing group.

“Ugh!” She shook her hands out and stood close enough for Ryan to smell the beer on her. “That guy was toootally creepy!” She dragged out the words a little.

Ryan didn’t want to know what the guy had said to her. It would only piss him off and he didn’t want to have to fight some guy five years older than him. Instead he gently took the beer from her hand and set it on the dusty shelf by his head.

“No more, ’kay?” he said.

She looked at it longingly before nodding at him with reluctance.

J.J. took that inopportune moment to dance up behind Brooke. He leaned to her ear and spoke too loud.

“Hey, sexy. You gonna dance with me or stand here talking to the Kid all night?”

“Not right now, J.J.,” she said.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s our last night and you can’t even give me one dance?” J.J. wore his mischievous grin—the one that made most girls squeal and laugh.

Ryan froze when he saw J.J.’s hands slide around Brooke’s waist, up over her stomach, and land right on her perfect boobs.
Too far.
Ryan stepped forward just as Brooke swung around and slapped J.J.’s shoulder, then shoved him hard, making him stumble into other dancers. Brooke stumbled to the side, almost falling.

People yelled at them and J.J. frowned, holding up his hands.

“Chill out, Brooke! I was just messing around.”

She was on the verge of tears when she screamed and slightly slurred, “’s not funny, J.J.! You need to learn some boundaries!”

She ran from the basement, bumping into a few people along her way. Ryan glared at J.J., who flipped him the bird and smirked. Ryan shook his head and turned to follow Brooke. Jackie was two steps ahead of him. They got to the top of the stairs and heard a door slam past the kitchen.

“She’s in the laundry room,” Jackie whispered to him. “Give me a sec. She’s had a lot to drink.”

He followed her to the small room and stood outside while Jackie went in. She left the door open a crack so he could hear, and the sound of Brooke’s sobs nearly broke him.

“You okay, Brookie?”

“No,” Brooke choked out. “I’m so sick of guys. So sick of ’em.”

“What happened?”

“They treat me like a piece of meat. If I say no, I’m a tease. If I give ’em what they want, I’m a slut. I’m tired of it. Nobody cares about me.” She sucked in a sad, sobbing breath.

Ryan leaned his head against the wall while Jackie shushed her.

“Somebody cares about you,” Jackie said quietly, and opened the door.

Brooke was sitting on the dryer with her sandaled feet dangling down. When she saw Ryan, she reached out her hands, sending a shock of relief through his system.

He went straight to her, letting her pull him between her knees and wrap her arms around his neck while his went around her waist. He laid his face on her shoulder and felt her let out another shuddering sob.

Jackie left them in the dark, closing the door, and they stayed like that until her body stilled and the tears were gone. She rested her cheek on top of his head. He should have let her go then, but he didn’t. He made circles on her back with his fingers, and he felt her nails gently moving through the hair at the back of his head.

Ryan’s heart found a hard, steady rhythm. In the dark, so close, labels like age seemed to disappear, and nothing had ever felt as right as holding her.

“Remember what I said to you on prom night?” Ryan whispered.

“That you’re going to marry me?” she whispered back.

He breathed in the vanilla scent at her neck. “Yeah. That.”

He could hear her breathing right above him.

“I meant it, Brooke.”

She waited, and her voice was soft. “You know I love you, Ryan.”

He’d heard her say that a million times to her girlfriends.

“But not the same way I love you.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she sat up straighter, pulling back, and his hands stilled on her back. She ran her fingers along the planes and angles of his face, saving his lips for last, which she traced with her fingertips while he stayed very still.

He wanted this. More than anything in the world he wanted this. But did that make him as big of a bastard as all the other guys who wanted something from her? Was he wrong to want all of her?

The feel of her soft lips against his silenced those thoughts. They pulled each other closer and kissed.
Really
kissed. He could taste the maltiness of beer on her tongue. And while Ryan’s greedy body ordered him to go for more as quickly as he could, he forced himself to keep his hands at her back and kiss her with as much tenderness as possible so that when this night was over, she’d know it meant more to him than just a hookup.

But then Brooke moaned from her throat and said,
“Ry . . .”
in a raspy voice, and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him up against her.

That’s when it got serious. His hands pushed into her hair and their mouths moved together with desperation. He felt her body push against his and he nearly lost his mind. Every muscle was tensed and ready for her, the same way he felt before a big game.

Brooke broke away, panting. “Geez, Ryan, where did you learn to kiss like that?”

He grinned in the dark. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

This made her laugh and he leaned forward to catch her mouth with his until they were frantically kissing again. He never wanted to leave that dark room. He wanted to move in and live there, kissing Brooke forever.

After who knows how long, she pulled back and placed a sweet peck on his lips. Ryan had kissed a few girls before, but it’d been nothing like what he and Brooke had just done. He doubted anything would ever be able to compare.

“We’re going to regret this tomorrow, aren’t we?” Brooke asked.

“You might. Not me.”

She leaned her forehead against his.

“Listen,” Ryan began.

“Ry . . .”

“No, listen.” He gathered the fabric of the back of her shirt in his hands. “I know you don’t want a long-distance relationship, and I know you only see me as a friend, and I know this night was just a fluke . . . but someday . . . maybe . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to voice his hopes.

“Someday,” she whispered back. “Maybe.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

F
or two people who were far apart, it was hard to hold on to “someday.” The world kept moving, and they were expected to continue having a part in it.

They emailed a lot her first couple of months away, but they never talked about the kiss. He was sure she regretted that night and was either embarrassed or worried about encouraging him. He hated feeling like she was pushing him away, and he hated even more that he couldn’t stop holding on. He just kept reaching. . . .

McPhearNumber9: Hey, what’s up? I got a pic of the tree next to the ball field today for you. The leaves are all red. I know autumn’s your favorite season.

WaterGirlBrooke: Oh, that’s so pretty! I miss it. The leaves are just starting to change here.

McPhearNumber9: Did you decide what you’re going to be when you grow up?

WaterGirlBrooke: lol, I think so. I’m majoring in journalism. I think I want to be a sports journalist.

McPhearNumber9: Sweet. I can see you as the hot sports chick announcer.

WaterGirlBrooke: Ha! I don’t know about all that. We’ll see what happens. :)

McPhearNumber9: Hear from your parents much?

WaterGirlBrooke: Ugh. My mom calls every Sunday, but we only talk for a minute. And I wasn’t going to tell anyone this, but I got an email from my dad.

McPhearNumber9: For real? That’s awesome! What did he say? And why weren’t you going to tell anyone?

WaterGirlBrooke: Because every year when he gets in contact with me he says the same thing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the best dad to you, Brookelynn. I’m working some things out, trying to get my life in order, and then I’ll make it up to you.” Blah, blah. I can’t even tell you how much these messages used to get my hopes up. I really used to believe he’d show up one day, all sober and ready to be my dad. But it never happened. And even now when I got this stupid message this week I still let myself be happy for a minute and imagine it. I’m tired of it. I’ve kept the same email address all these years and for the first time I’m thinking of shutting down that account.

Ryan’s stomach burned when he read her message.

McPhearNumber9: I’m sorry. Don’t shut down the account. Wish I was there to hug you.

WaterGirlBrooke: Me, too.

McPhearNumber9: Cyber hug?

WaterGirlBrooke: Sure, but no groping.

McPhearNumber9: Dude. You are no fun.

WaterGirlBrooke: lol <3 ya. Don’t be late to practice. Hit one out for me.

It was one of their longest conversations that fall.

At Thanksgiving, Brooke went to one of her sorority sister’s houses instead of coming home. At Christmas, she only came home four days. They saw each other two of them, and it’d been like no time had passed, which almost made things worse . . . harder. She still filled a room with her smile, and her hugs were like currency, making him long for riches. But when she returned to school, it was as if he no longer existed. Her replies to his emails were filled with smiley faces, but they were short. Too short. He felt shut out of her life.

In February when he turned seventeen, he got drunk for the first time—the stupid, fall-down-and-say-things-you-regret kind of drunk. Just before he puked his guts out in his friend Jake’s toilet, he sat on the edge of the tub and called Brooke.

“Ry?” It sounded loud, like she was at a party. “Did you get my text? Happy birthday!”