Flirting With Maybe (8 page)

Ryan pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over them.

“You’re not gonna get sick, are you?” he asked.

“I never get sick from drinking. Got a gut like my dad.”

Ryan tensed. He didn’t like that comparison. Brooke lifted her head and looked at him.

“I was on academic probation my first semester,” she said. “I never told anyone. I partied too hard when I was pledging my sorority. I got my grades back up, but my mom and Ron were pissed. They said I was heading down the same path as my dad.”

Anger surged through Ryan. He knew Brooke had the capability to be like her father, but he also knew she was stronger than that. He believed in her. Why couldn’t they? They should have been encouraging her, instead of saying shitty things to provoke her deepest fears.

“You’re not your dad,” Ryan said through clenched teeth.

Her eyes watered. “But I’m like him.”

He ran his hand down her soft, straight hair and she closed her eyes.

“You’re not him. And you won’t end up like him. You’re just having fun like everyone else.” He didn’t know if he believed that, but he wanted it to be true. Ryan’s stomach clenched with nerves as he prepared to say the next thing. “And if you’re really worried, Brooke . . . you could maybe stop drinking.”

Her head dropped to her chest. She looked so tired. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?” he whispered.

She thought about it. “People like me better when I drink.”

“Who?”
Guys?
“Sorry, but fuck them.”

Ryan wondered if it wasn’t
her
who liked herself better when she drank—when she became numb and let go of everything.

Brooke slid herself down across the couch, laying her head in his lap. He moved the hair back from her face, then took his thumb and wiped a smudge of eyeliner from the corner of her eye.

“I’ve missed you, Ry.”

He couldn’t say anything. In the next second he felt her hand pressing on his pants. At first he thought it was an accident, but as he sat very still she flicked the button of his jeans open and unzipped them.
Oh, God . . . holy . . .

“Brooke—”

“It’s okay.”

She started to slip her hand in, and with a thud of his heart he grasped her wrist. He was so shocked, and suddenly so turned on he could barely find his voice.

He stuttered, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said. “You’re the only one who doesn’t expect something from me.”

With a deep breath, Ryan gently pulled her hand away and tried to hold it, but she sat up, wrapping her hands around her knees.

“Brooke?”

She wouldn’t look at him. He quickly zipped his jeans back up and tried to adjust himself.

“Hey . . .” He pulled her to him, tugging her closer when she tried to pull away, until she finally relaxed against his side, shaking. Questions and emotions warred inside Ryan. He had no clue what to say or do to make this right. He wanted to lighten the mood and lessen the pain of rejection he knew she felt.

“Listen,” Ryan said into her hair. “You’re killin’ me right now. If you show up sober at my house tomorrow and try to put your hands down my pants, I swear I won’t stop you. But the last time I kissed you, you were drunk, and I think you regretted it. I want you, but not like this.”

His breathing went shallow as he waited for her response. She kept her cheek pressed against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his biceps.

Her answer was quiet. “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had, you know.”

Joy, pure and sweet, exploded inside him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down so they were both lying, her back spooning against his chest. He fixed the blanket and tried to rein himself in when he felt her nestle her body against his. She used the crook of his elbow as a pillow.

“I’m coming to your house tomorrow,” she promised.

He squirmed back farther as her words made their way through his system, then shivered when she kissed the sensitive skin in the middle of his arm.

He tried to think of something cool to say, but the only thing he could bear to tell her was the truth.

“I’ll be waiting.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I
t was four o’clock in the afternoon before Ryan knew Brooke wasn’t coming.

He thought back to that morning. All the signs had been there. Brooke had slipped out of his arms, trying to sneak away, but he’d called out to her and asked where she was going.

“I need to find Jackie,” she’d whispered. “I’ll call you later, ’kay, Ry?”

He’d said nothing. As per their usual MO, neither of them brought up what had happened between them or the things they’d said. And then Brooke had rushed away, leaving him with the seeds of doubt that would bloom into hurt and frustration as the day went on.

His heart jumped, then sank, when his cell rang with Michelle’s number. Guilt made him answer, though he prayed she wouldn’t make this harder on them.

“Hey,” he said.

“We’re broken up, like,
five
minutes and you’re already hooking up with Brooke Bennett? Who, by the way, is
fat
and has been dragging you around like a dog for years!”

He forced himself to stay calm, because Michelle’s frantic voice was anything but.

“We didn’t hook up,” he said evenly.

“I know you slept in the basement together!”

“But nothing happened.”

“Do you love her?” Michelle’s voice cracked with anger and tears, making Ryan cringe.

He opened his mouth, but fear and confusion gripped his throat. All this time he’d buried his love for Brooke, continually kicking sand over it as he’d tried to live his life, but one night of seeing her had raised it up, as shining and strong as ever.

Michelle made a choking sound on the other end of the phone.

“Oh my God. You are such an asshole, Ryan.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She hung up on him. He yanked his hat off his head and threw it across the room before collapsing on the couch with his head in his hands. He felt sick. He never meant to hurt Michelle, but he’d selfishly stayed with her. And she’d been right about Brooke. Over and over she’d proven she didn’t want him unless she was drunk and trying to “reward” him for being nice to her.

Ryan’s mom came in with her keys in her mouth and shopping bags in her arms. She shut the door behind her with her hip.

“Need help?” he asked from his sitting position.

She chuckled, dropping the bags and taking the keys out of her mouth. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic when you offer.”

He started to stand, but she waved him back down.

“I can handle it. You look like you had a rough night.”

Ryan stood when he saw her struggling on her tiptoes to slide a can on the third shelf. He took it from her and pushed it in.

“Thanks,” she said, rubbing his back in a way that made him feel like a little boy again. It was a nostalgic feeling, making him open up to her.

“We broke up.”

He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, and she stopped what she was doing.

“Oh, Ryan. I’m sorry.” She came over and put her hands on his crossed forearms. “I know you’re hurting, sweetie, but I think it’s really for the better.”

He gave her a nod, but felt bad accepting her affection. He didn’t deserve it.

“I was going to go out to dinner with the girls, but I think I’ll stay home tonight.”

“No,” he told her. “You should go. I’m not in the best mood, so I’m just gonna hang out in my room.”

He ignored her sad expression.

“Well . . . if you’re sure. I’ll bring you something, ’kay?”

He gave her another nod and she lifted onto her toes to kiss his cheek before he went to his room.

Half an hour later he heard his mom leave. Ryan wanted to sleep but he couldn’t relax. He lay facedown on his mattress, digging his fingers in his hair against his scalp and squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could. The longer he lay there thinking, the angrier he became. At himself. At Brooke. At life.

And then his phone binged with a text message.

Ryan’s heart went straight to his throat and began thumping a heavy rhythm. It was from Brooke. He fumbled to open it.

Ry?

He now fumbled to reply.

I’m here.

Thump, thump, thump.

I’m here too.

He jumped from his bed and ran to the front door, yanking it open. Brooke stood there looking more like herself, casual, less makeup. Jackie sat in her car, watching them. Ryan couldn’t bring himself to smile or be cheerful. When he spoke, the anger he’d been seething in all day came through.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.

She blinked and looked down. “Yeah. I would have come sooner but . . .”

“But what?” He waited for her excuse—her reason for ditching him one last time before she returned to school and never saw him again.

“I was scared,” she whispered.

Her genuine reply stole some of the bitter wind from his sails, but not all of it.

“Why’s Jackie waiting?” he asked. “You planning to say your good-byes and run?”

She bit her lip, eyes darting as if she was embarrassed. “I didn’t know how serious you were, and I didn’t want to be stuck. . . .”

Now he completely deflated. And he wondered why she was really there. Out of obligation for some promise she’d made last night?

He lifted his chin at Jackie and said, “I got her. I’ll take her home.”

Brooke gave him a grateful smile, seeming relieved.

“You kids be good,” Jackie called before driving off.

Before they moved from the foyer he asked, “Why are you really here?”

She didn’t seem surprised or offended by the question, only scared. He’d never been like this toward her before, but he’d also never been so close to what he wanted, and he had to make sure they were on the same page. He wanted everything, so if this was just a hookup for her, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it, no matter how much his body would disagree.

“I wanted to see you,” she said, fiddling with her fingers. “I feel stupid about last night.”

“I’m not holding you to anything you said last night, Brooke. And you don’t need to feel stupid. It was just me.”

“I know, but I felt something different with you last night, and then I took it too far. Oh, my gosh, I’m babbling.”

She swallowed. Her hands trembled. The sight of her nervousness made Ryan experience a surge of confidence like he’d never felt before. All traces of the Kid disappeared.
Good riddance,
Ryan thought.

He took her fingers and led her to his room, closing the door behind them. She’d been in his room lots of times back in the day, but this felt different. It was different. Back then, he used to leave the door open.

They faced each other, a few feet apart, making no move. He didn’t smile, and neither did she. When she lifted a hand to push hair behind her ear he noticed her trembling.

Was she scared? Nervous? Wishing she could change her mind?

“We don’t have to do anything,” he told her.

She peered down at their feet before meeting his eyes again. He couldn’t believe how unsettled she looked.

“You don’t want to?” she asked.

“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying you don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you a lot.” She took a tentative step forward. “Listen . . . I know you used to have a crush on me. And I know I wasn’t exactly careful about your feelings. I’m sorry I never took you more seriously.” Her dark chocolate eyes stayed on his, watering slightly, but steady. “I just . . . this feels bigger . . . more real than anything. I don’t want to mess it up. If we do this, it’ll change everything. And I’m worried that if we hook up, it’ll break the spell, and you’ll be over it.”

Ryan couldn’t help but be hurt that she thought she was only a conquest for him. He rumpled his flat hair and wished he had his hat on.

“This isn’t just some crush, Brooke. It’s not going to disappear.”

“How do you know?” Her eyes were really watering now. “I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t want anything to do with me afterward. I know I have no right to expect anything. I haven’t exactly been a great friend, but now that I have you again, I don’t want to lose you.”

He couldn’t believe she thought she’d be the one who would end up hurt. “That’s not going to happen, because I love you. If anyone’s getting their heart broken here, it’s me. Not you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either,” she whispered.

“Then don’t. Don’t run from me. Let me in.”

The tension, distinct and electric, built between them until he stepped forward, slipped his hand under her hair, and pulled her face to his. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back without hesitation, pressing her body against his and pulling him tighter. Vanilla swarmed his system. They kissed until her back bumped against the wall and they broke away. Both were breathing hard.

“Ry . . .” Brooke let out a nervous giggle. “This is so . . . you’re so—”

“Shh.”

He kissed her again, and when she moaned he felt it all the way to his bare toes.

She’d come to him, fearful and sober, wanting him. It was all he could think about.

With both palms on her neck, and his thumbs rubbing her jawline, he felt her pulse race beneath his hands as she reached for the button on his jeans.

“Uh-uh,” he said against her lips, dropping his hands to take her wrists and pull them around his waist.

Ryan kissed her harder, and seconds later he tasted salt. He pulled back enough to see tears streaming down her cheeks. But she wasn’t sad. He worried if he’d been too rough with her, only to feel her nails dig into his lower back as her hands slipped under his shirt and pulled him closer.

She lifted his shirt, and he let her pull it over his head. The little, feminine sound of approval she made at the sight of him nearly caused him to lose all sense of right and wrong. Then she shocked him by pulling her own shirt over her head. Ryan knew he must look like a virginal preteen because he couldn’t stop staring at her soft, creamy skin and beautiful curves. Brooke just stroked his face and ran her fingers down his arms, letting him look.