17. BROOKLYN

CHAPTER 17

brOOKLYN

W e lose the first game of the season, 6-5, against the Falcons. They were last year's champ and some of the seniors are happy that it wasn't a total embarrassment.

"I beg to disagree," I say from my bench, a towel on my head as I work on loosening my skate laces. "This feels a lot like so close, yet so far to me, and that's not worth celebrating." I grit my teeth. We have a decent chance with this roster but only if they stop screwing around.

And then Kyle Warren opens his stinky mouth. "Oh wow, what a demoralizing thing to say from the guy who is supposed to be our captain. We should all be out celebrating that we held our own against the reigning champions, right?"

His buddies agree with him like drones and start rallying the rest of the team for a night at O'Malley's. I leave it alone because at least they didn't half-ass it tonight at the game, even if Kyle's error is what led to the Falcon's sixth goal.

I'm so annoyed, I scrub my skin in the shower like I'm trying to peel it off. Be the Captain, they said. It'll be fun, they said .

"What do you wanna do?" Dane asks me afterward, when we're putting on our freaking suits and ties. "Hit O'Malley's too, or go to a rage room?" He chuckles but the idea has merit.

I shake my head. "No, I think I need quiet. See you at home later."

"Okay, honey. Don't be too late or I'll worry."

I flip him off on my way out of the lockers, hauling my sports bag on my shoulder as I head to the parking lot. Maybe I should've blow dried my hair because the chill bites me as I walk into the night. I didn't tell Dane that there's a third option, one that centers me better than a crowded place or smashing things ever could. One that's on speaking terms with me again. But if I told him, he'd have gotten jealous.

I toss my bag in the backseat of my Gladiator. After climbing in the driver's seat, I pull out my phone from the pocket of my slacks, wishing I could surprise Liv and show up unannounced at her place. Except I don't have her current address, so I have no choice but to ruin the plan on my own.

Me

What u up to

I turn on the vehicle and crank up the heat so it starts working fast. With one hand, I tap on the steering wheel as I wait for a response. With the other, I doom scroll through social media to pretend like I'm not being impatient at all.

But then Liv's face pops up on my screen. I pause to watch a video of her showing how to make a quick allergen-free salad to the tune of Motionless in White. I snort a laugh at the contrast. She moves through her kitchen as though it's a totally domestic scene without the strident background music and she looks at the camera like she's bored. It's hilarious.

Or it would be if she wasn't so damn hot.

I rub my chin with my hand while I watch her. Does this make me a shitty person? I'm her friend. Her best friend wannabe. I'd break my own face before making her uncomfortable.

But I like what she's wearing. It's some kind of black top, so tight it shows off her curves. The neckline swoops down, not drastically, but enough to show some skin. When she turns around for a second to retrieve something, I can see a lot of her back. If I had her permission, I'd kiss her neck slowly, savoring her skin the way I would her lips, and I'd make my way down her spine until I map every inch of her.

That's when my phone pings with a response.

*Olive emoji*

Studying, why?

Me

Would you like some free pizza with that?

*Olive emoji*

Uhh I am confusion

Me

Text me your address to unconfuse yourself

I squirm on my seat while her three dots reappear, trying to convince myself that the thought of kissing her back hasn't affected me.

*Olive emoji*

Free you said? Why yes, thank you

"Yes." I pump a fist as her new address pops onto my screen. I add it to her contact info, put on my seatbelt, and drive off to Romano's. Not only is it the best Italian place in town, they're owned by the family of Olivia's brother-in-law. They know the Liv special by heart now, which is the only pizza guaranteed to not trigger any of her allergies.

As always, the place is an overwhelming explosion of sound as I walk in. Weaving through the tables, I head directly for the counter where the matriarch of the Cassiano clan is checking a couple out.

"Bambino, you are too skinny!" she exclaims when it's my turn.

I know for a fact that I am not skinny. I could eat the whole kitchen if they let me. "How are you, Mrs. Cassiano?"

"Busy." She puts her hands on her hips. "Trying to convince that son of mine to come visit his elderly mother for the holidays. Apparently he has ‘a game' before Thanksgiving."

Ah, she's talking about Max. The fact that she made quote marks with her fingers before ‘a game' is funny. She doesn't care at all that her youngest son is the hottest forward in the league.

Grinning, I say, "Give me two years and I'll make his life on ice so miserable, he'll want to escape home for the holidays."

"I'll hold you to that." But by the way she's smiling, I can tell she doesn't believe anyone can take her son down. Would that I could have a mother like her. "What can I get you, bambino?"

"Extra large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese," I say, pausing for her to key it into the computer. "And also one Olivia special."

Her eyes lift from the screen. "Well. It's been a while."

"I know." I stuff my hands in my pockets, trying to appear nonchalant. Even though everyone in this town knows that Liv and I weren't speaking. In fact, I'm surprised her brother hasn't already called me to warn me off. I don't think Aran ever liked me much.

He'll find out after tonight, though. Because Mrs. Cassiano will tell Max, who will tell his wife, Luz, who will tell her younger brother without a doubt. I'm sure Aran will rant about the little shit who's back in his sister's life to his wife, Maddie. She might mention it in passing to her mom, and Mrs. Berkley, being Lee's teacher, might end up passing the message along to my father through my half-brother.

I wonder if this is enough to get him to talk with me. After all, he's never liked Liv either. But he's a man of incredibly bad taste, otherwise he wouldn't have married my mother.

I'm ridiculously jolly as I pay for two ginormous boxes of piping hot pizza and drive off to Liv's address. It's in an apartment complex smack between campus and Romano's, which I don't think is a coincidence. I balance the pizzas expertly as I climb up the stairs until I find her door.

After ringing the doorbell, I shout, "Extremely hot delivery!"

It gets Liv opening the door in record time. "Oh my gosh, you dork! You're going to bother people."

"Please, grandma. It's only nine."

Liv moves aside and opens the door wider. "Shoes off, please. Or Mina will kill you."

"Is she around?" I ask as I walk in, trying not to visibly react at the vanilla scent that clings to Liv's skin.

"Yeah, she's taking a shower right now."

I will not show disappointment that we're not alone, no sire.

As she takes the two boxes so I can remove my shoes, I mutter, "Crap, I hope she likes the two options I got."

"It's okay. I've seen her eat pig's intestines. This is very pedestrian in comparison." Her voice twinkles with a chuckle and…

I immediately feel better. Like magic.

Kyle who? Falcons whomst?

I wipe the clown's grin off my face the second Liv turns, before she can see it. As she lowers the boxes on the coffee table, I force myself to take some more steps out of the entrance and into the actual apartment. The first area my attention goes to is the kitchen.

"So this is where the magic happens, huh?" Is that pile of dirty dishes in the sink all the stuff she used for the latest video?

But she's not wearing that nice little top anymore. She's in a grey St. Cloud sweatshirt that would fit two of me, and leggings. I'm severely overdressed, but I can somewhat fix that.

"What magic?" she asks, looking up at me now that she's sitting on the carpet, while I undo my tie.

"Your videos," I say, my eyes fixed on hers. "I've been a fan from the beginning, but I'm really enjoying the rocker domestic queen collection."

"It's not a collection." She blinks slowly. "I think this is it for me."

Yeah, I agree. Although I'm not sure we'd be talking about the same thing.

"Motionless in White, though? We loved that in high school." I stuff the rolled up tie into the pocket of my blazer and then remove it, settling it down on the couch.

"I know. I'm thinking Mudvayne's next," she says, watching me take a seat on the floor right beside her. She scoots a bit farther, except that almost puts her at the end of the table. "Um, is this comfortable for you? We could use the kitchen island instead."

I watch her as I unbutton the left sleeve of my shirt and start to roll it up. Her attention's drawn to my tattoo right away, and she keeps staring at it even when I say, "No, this is fine." It's perfect. She's perfect.

"You never told me you wanted a tattoo." She motions at it with her lips in a way I used to find funny, but now gets a chill traveling through my spine.

Clearing my throat, I say, "That's because I didn't know I wanted one until I did."

"Okay, fair. "

I look away from her to work on the opposite sleeve now. "Do you want to know what it means?"

"Can I?" Liv reaches forward to pop open the first pizza box. When it turns out to be her special, she swings it open all the way and grabs a big slice of gluten free, no cheese, marinara, black olives—ironic—capers, and artichokes. No meat, because deli meats have an additive her stomach can't tolerate.

I bite down a smile as I watch her tuck in with gusto. She trusts very few people in her life to keep her food safe, and I happen to be one of them. Always made me feel special.

Now I want more. I want to keep her safe, not just her food. I want to be her special person. I want her .

But I don't want to freak her out. I have to take it easy.

I place my hand on top of my pizza box, palm facing up so the start of my tattoo is visible. "It's kind of silly," I continue, my voice a bit deeper than I intend. "But these three lines represent the most important aspects of my life."

"Doesn't sound silly," she says with a mouth full of food.

There's a smudge of marinara on her cheek and before I can process, I reach forward and wipe it with my thumb. I lick the sauce off my finger but keep my eyes fixed on my tattoo because I'm afraid she'll read my mind if I let her look into my eyes. Yet I can't stop myself from touching her. From craving her skin.

So much for taking it easy.

"This one," I say, touching the fully black line on the outer edge. "It represents hockey, which is going pretty well for me, even though we lost tonight."

"I saw the score." Her voice is soft, airy. "Must've been tough. Wanna talk about it?"

I look up. "You want to talk about hockey with me?"

"Notice how I asked if you wanted to, instead of saying I wanted to?"

Grinning, I touch the line in the middle, which is faded compared to the hockey one. "And this one is for friends, like you, who put up with my shit even though I annoy them."

"Ah, yes. That makes sense," Liv says in a dark tone. "Why is it lighter than the first one, though?"

"Because…" I busy myself with getting a pepperoni pizza slice and force myself to respond. "Because I once drove away my best friend in the whole wide world." I take a big bite and start chewing.

As the silence stretches, I glance at her and freeze.

Liv looks like she's about to cry.

"Uh…" I set my slice down. "Sorry, I didn't mean to?—"

She takes a deep breath. "And the last line? The one that's even more faded."

I swallow down the pizza, which is suddenly not tasting so great. My stomach churns with a cocktail of emotions that don't work well together. Severe attraction for my best friend, who still has sauce on her face. Annoyance after the game. Hurt, so much damn hurt, that a restaurant owner cares more about me than my own parents.

"That one's for my family," I say with a thread of voice. I don't need to explain why it's the faintest line. Liv knows. She's seen the worst of the Tatums from the front row.

She slides her fingers between mine and holds my hand tight. "I'm sorry, Brooke."

For some reason, what I manage to say is, "You're getting gluten on your hand now."

"I know, I'll go wash it later." Sighing, she lifts her eyes to mine and her lips part.

But a different voice comes out. "Well, what do we have here?"

Oh, shit. I forgot there was someone else home.