13. BROOKLYN

CHAPTER 13

brOOKLYN

"— W ith me?"

"Hmm?" My brain scrambles the speech this girl's giving me, which is rude, though probably not as much as if I vaulted over the stairs to really bypass her.

"I said," her annoyance penetrates through my thick skull and I finally look at her. Her mouth is downturned into a pout, one hand delicately resting over her chest. Her well-displayed chest. "Do you want to go somewhere more quiet with me?"

My eyes trail over her head, over the multitude of people talking, dancing, drinking, or playing games in the living room—and they land right on my best friend. She's watching a beer pong game from the edge of the crowd circling the dining table. Maybe she's warm, because she pushes the sleeves of her hoodie up her arms. Now she's laughing at something one of the competitors says, and I don't know why but my gut twists. I haven't heard her laughter in so long—don't even know if I could get a chuckle out of her now.

"Well?"

"Sorry," I say on autopilot. "I'm looking for someone. "

"A girl?" the stairs troll asks.

I tuck my tongue against my cheek and nod. "Yeah, a girl."

"Well, I'm a girl too." She licks her lips in a way I'm supposed to react to, and she even goes as far as running her hand down my stomach.

I pluck it well before she reaches the waistband of my jeans and offer a tight smile. "A specific girl, that is. Can I please get going?" Huffing, she finally lets me through, not without muttering some colorful language. Funny that it comes from someone who a moment ago wanted to undress me.

Right before I reach the landing, though, I take another peek at the beer pong game and?—

Where's Liv?

I focus harder on the players. Maybe she's joined the game. But there are only the two Strikes and the other girl Liv was with earlier, and Liv is still MIA. I crane my neck this way and that, pop into the kitchen and nada.

Did she go off on her own? Or did she go off with someone? Is it someone she can trust? What if she gets in trouble? We try to run a pretty tight ship in this house but the guests can sometimes be an issue.

And then I hear a very sharp, "Excuse me." I whirl around and find some people parting down the hallway with grunts and curses. But that was her voice.

They move out of my way more easily. And there she is, by herself, trying to open the first door on the right.

"What are you doing?"

Liv jumps in her skin. "Brooke? What are you doing here?"

"This is where I live." I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

"I mean, here here . Weren't you flirting with some girl earlier?"

My eyebrows rise.

So she noticed that ?

Her expression is starting to darken so I don't dare to tease her. Instead, I say, "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You shouldn't ditch your friends when it's this crowded."

"I just need to use the bathroom." She blows a raspberry that lifts a strand of her hair, only for it to fall back on her face.

My fingers tingle, and I know that the only way to cure the itch is to tuck her hair back. Or to comb it, the pads of my fingers softly caressing her scalp.

What the—where did that come from?

I clear my throat. "Well, that's not a bathroom. That's?—"

Abruptly, the door opens and someone stumbles out, crashing into Liv from behind. I react in time to catch her before she face-plants on the floor. Instead, she smacks hard against my chest.

"Ow!"

I wince. "You okay?" But then the drunkards get their own feet tangled and almost take us out.

"Sorry, captain." One of the freshmen in the team grins at me, an equally tipsy girl behind him. Her makeup is all smudged and her skirt is on backwards. And he's missing a shirt altogether.

"You better behave, Michaels," I warn with a frown. Dude salutes and turns around, giggling girl in tow grabbing his ass. Strong hint that whatever that was, at least was consensual.

I remember the girl in my arms and glance down. Liv rubs her nose with her hand, face scrunched up in pain. All I can do is bite my lips when she pins me with the full force of her glare.

"Is your freaking chest made of steel?"

"Titanium," I chime, sounding serious. "And as you can see, that wasn't a bathroom."

Liv harrumphs and she puts her hands on me, one against my chest, the other against my stomach. I freeze, muscles contracting at the shockwave the touch sends. Sensation travels all the way down to my toes and I have to steel myself against a shiver.

But then Liv pushes me away, and I have no choice but to let my arms fall.

"So anyway, where's the bathroom?" she asks with impatience.

I comb my hair away from my forehead, biting my lip so I don't whine like a wounded animal. That's how I feel now with the distance between us.

"You don't want to use the ones downstairs, trust me." I lean forward and grab her hand. "Let's go upstairs."

"Fine." She sighs like it's no big deal that this is the most contact we've had since we made out in an alley a week ago.

I shift my hand to lace our fingers together, holding tight as I navigate us back upstairs. There's a couple about to round at least base two at the top of the stairs, and a wild mental picture forms in my mind. It's of Liv and I just like that, her legs around my waist as I prop her up against a wall and devour her mouth.

Shit. I'm messed up. We're supposed to just be friends—barely. I haven't even earned her trust back. I shouldn't be thinking about things like that.

"Where are we going?" Liv asks while we climb up the second set of stairs, this one tucked against the east end of the second floor.

"My room." My voice comes out weirdly deep and raspy, and I keep talking so I can pretend I didn't get turned on all on my own. "Now that I've been made captain of the team, I've moved up to the third floor that is normally for seniors."

Our steps echo through the quiet. We keep partygoers off this floor, unless one of its residents intentionally brings company upstairs.

Uh, I guess like Liv and I now .

"Congrats, by the way. I know how important all that is to you," she murmurs.

I pause at the top of the stairs to glance back at her. Liv meets my eyes slowly. A tightness in my shoulders ebbs away, one I hadn't even noticed until now. It's like I'd been waiting for this moment and it dawns on me how much I wanted someone I care about to confirm if this was an accomplishment at all.

Swallowing hard, I face forward again and resume the walk. "Thanks, Liv."

Some voices echo around the hallway as we make it upstairs. We pass by a door that barely muffles some pretty clear sounds as to what's happening behind it. Behind me, Liv expels the kind of breath that makes her sound exhausted.

We reach the end of the hallway and I dig my keys out of my pocket to unlock my room. I open the door with my free hand and mumble, "I cleaned my bathroom this morning. Holler if you need anything."

Liv uncurls her fingers and slides her hand from mine, not looking up as she steps into my bedroom. "Thanks."

"No worries. I'll wait out here, okay?"

She glances over her shoulder. "Uh, sure." Then she closes the door with a soft click.

I turn to rest my back against the door, twirling my keys around my finger. Liv is in my bathroom. Why does this feel so weird? We used to visit each other's houses all the time in high school, would do our homework side by side on my bed, or she'd sit on her bedroom windowsill while I sat on the floor below her. It was no big deal.

This feels like a big deal.

Did we really turn into strangers? Is that why? Because this is like getting to know each other again, getting familiar with our spaces again.

No. It's because for a second I had the wild notion we should be doing something else in my bedroom. Or in the bathroom. Wherever she wants.

"She doesn't, asshole," I mutter to myself, running a hand down my face.

My pants vibrate, but it's not because of the blood rushing down my body. I take my cellphone out of my pocket and the name that pops up on the screen is more effective than an ice bath.

Male Progenitor

Why didn't you show up for Lee's birthday party today?

I stare at the text from my dad, my eyebrows scrunching up with the effort it takes me to decipher it. But it's not some secret intelligence code. I swipe open the text app to look at the thread between us, in case I missed the invite. But the last text was from me saying I'd just made team captain, and I'm pretty sure he hadn't read it until now.

Just in case, I also check my emails, and there's nothing there either.

Me

I didn't know about it

Isn't his birthday tomorrow?

My texts show as read immediately. I wait for the three dots but they don't appear. Clicking out of the app, I stuff my phone back in my pocket right as a bedroom door opens down the hall.

I narrow my eyes like I need that to sharpen my already perfect vision. But they're not deceiving me: that is indeed Trent McFadden walking out of a room with a girl. And like what they were doing is not obvious enough, he stumbles while trying to walk and zip up his pants at the same time .

Something like a hot hand grabs me by the throat, or it could just be from how hard it feels to hold back from cussing the shit out of him. I lock my muscles tight so I don't rush down the hallway and pound him to the floor. He should be feeling absolutely wrecked after losing someone as amazing as Liv.

And then one neuron in my pea brain produces a spark of important thought.

Liv can't see this—see him .

Before her shitface ex spots me, I slip into my bedroom and lock the door. The water stops running in the bathroom and a moment later, the door opens.