18. OLIVIA

CHAPTER 18

OLIVIA

I pull my hand from Brooke's right before Mina gets in position to see it. I almost grab my slice again until I remember I might've picked up flour crumbles from his hand.

"Brooklyn's here, and he brought pizza," I announce as I stand up and walk around her to the sink.

"Wow, you won't catch me complaining," Mina says. "A hot guy in a button shirt and free pizza in my living room is truly a one of a kind experience."

No me digas , I almost say. Brooke nearly gave me a heart attack when I opened the door and saw him outside.

But then, every interaction since has been just as dangerous. If Mina hadn't come out of her room at that moment, I might've leaned forward and… completely ruined this new delicate balance by kissing him. Also, potentially sending myself to the hospital from the taste of normal pepperoni pizza on his mouth. Small details.

"Do you have any dietary restrictions?" There's concern in his voice, which makes me shake my head. I'd have thought that telling him she can eat any part of an animal would give him a hint.

"Nope. I could even eat you up if you were interested."

I choke.

So does Brooklyn.

Meanwhile, Mina casually comments, "Oh, sounds like you guys need some water. Be right back."

I'm still coughing while I dry my hands up with the kitchen towel. Mina pulls open the fridge to get a pitcher of cold water, and uses it to hide her face as she gives me an exaggerated wink.

What is this devious woman playing at?

It's not like she's legit hitting on him. I know what her flirty tone of voice is, and that wasn't it. And also, after a few parties at the Bolt House, she's started to develop a little thing for Brooke's friend, Dane Bloom. He's a ginormous brunette who'd look very nice wrapped up around her little finger—her words, not mine.

She also knows I unfortunately still have a thing for my childhood friend. So it's almost like she wanted to make me give myself away with that comment. I wouldn't put past her.

I walk back to the living room like it's a mined field and not a regular floor with linoleum tiles. Mina's setting down a tower of clean cups along with the water pitcher when I join them.

"There's enough pizza for an army," she says as she surveys the two massive boxes.

Brooke motions at it as he chews, one cheek full to bursting. "Speaking of armies, where is your other friend?"

Mina gives him a side eye. "She has the away game tonight, you know."

"Right." He sounds more distracted than usual. I wonder if the loss really hit him that hard? But now I don't know if he'll want to talk about it with Mina here. He's always extra sensitive after a loss, so he tends to hide all by himself rather than socializing his feelings.

Speaking of, Mina's eyes are narrowed, head tilted in a thoughtful expression. "Brooklyn Tatum, are you self-absorbed or clueless?"

"Clueless," Brooke and I say at the same time. We look at each other.

"Ah." Mina presses her lips tight.

While his curl into a goofy grin, I pick up my abandoned slice and lament that it's grown cold. To distract myself from that sad fact, I add, "This is why I have a special nickname for him."

"What's that?"

"Blimbo," we say at the same time again, which makes Mina's eyes widen.

"Blond," I start.

"Bimbo," he finishes. "Sadly, I'm a walking stereotype."

"I wouldn't say it's sad," I volley while chewing, because there's no point in pretending to have manners in front of two people who have seen me at my worst in different occasions. "It's quite funny, actually. I once watched him walk into a closed crystal door."

Mina cocks an eyebrow at me and I can read her mind. She's wondering how I could still fall for a guy like that. But it's because she doesn't know him yet.

"So not funny." He frowns, even though his eyes twinkle. "It gives me a headache just to remember."

"What were you even thinking about that had you so distracted?" I ask, pouring myself a glass of water.

"Back then?" Brooke's forehead scrunches up as he harkens back to that time when he almost shattered the glass door to the high school library. "I think college admissions? It was around the time I didn't know where I was going yet."

Ah, yes. Back when we were both freaking out at the possibility that we'd have to go our separate ways. We ended up going to the same college and growing apart anyway. Life's funny like that.

Maybe he's thinking the same thing, because he's suddenly grown quiet.

"So, Brooklyn." Something in Mina's voice gives me pause. "I'm a little aware of the history between you and my best friend Liv, who I have never put through any suffering in my entire life?—"

Uh oh. Should I stop this?

Yes, I think so.

"Oh, that's right. I made a bunch of salad that would go nicely with the pizza. Anyone want some?"

Brooke looks at me, eagerly. "Yes, please. I'm intrigued by the flava beans."

"Fava beans, you dork."

"Those."

Mina takes a deep breath and asks, "So, what are your intentions with her? Are you planning on hurting her again?"

My jaw drops and I freeze, locked between sitting and standing. Which makes me collapse on the couch.

Brooke's eyebrows pop off. He slowly turns to Mina. "Uh, what?"

"You heard me." She folds her arms and glares at him with all her might. It's strong enough to make him swallow hard. "Because in my opinion, a little party here and a little pizza there aren't enough to make amends."

Brooke blinks hard—at me. "I thought I'd only get this kind of speech from your brother."

"Might as well practice now," I mumble, picking myself back up to head over to the fridge.

"My intentions?" he muses aloud while I grab the salad container along with some serving cups and utensils. When I return, he's got one arm across his chest, hand hooked on his other arm that is raised as he rubs his chin. The raspy sound hits me as I sit back down next to him. "My intentions," he repeats, facing Mina head on, "are to reclaim my rightful position as Aceituna's best friend."

Mina looks positively murderous. "Those are fighting words, blimbo. Especially from someone who hurt her so much."

"Salad?" I ask, popping open the container.

Brooke grabs a serving plate. "Yes, please."

As I pass him the container and serving spoon, I give Mina what I hope is a discreet glare.

So this was the angle? Not some awkward attempt at matchmaking, but a declaration of war? I don't know if I should be relieved or annoyed, because this must mean she doesn't approve of Brooke and I as a couple. Or maybe she just thinks I stand no chance with him.

"Salad?" He offers her the container, and she reluctantly takes it from him. As he leans back against the couch, Brooke places a forearm on his raised knee and says, "And for what it's worth, I'll spend the rest of my life apologizing for being a jerk to Liv if that's what it takes."

Mina pauses to reassess him. That's the thing with Brooklyn. He always has his head in the clouds but occasionally he'll deliver a biting zinger that cuts through people's defenses. And this is one such case, because with that he rendered Mina's argument moot, and her speechless.

This is why I didn't want to talk with him after the incident. I knew he'd make me come around and I wanted to hold onto my anger longer. Except I hurt him too—bad enough that he got a tattoo about it.

My eyes focus on the ink as he picks up a second slice of his gluten bomb of a pizza. My eyes fall to his side, encased in a perfectly tailored button shirt. The other time at the library, when he flashed his abs and nearly made me die of a nosebleed, I caught glimpse of another tattoo against his ribs. It was a bunch of numbers. I wonder if he'd been about to tell me about it before Mina interrupted us.

"Anyway," Mina continues, "I'll be pleasant for tonight since you're feeding me. But from tomorrow you should start watching your back."

"You're on," he says as if this was a normal conversation that he feels the need to keep entertaining.

I shake my head. "You guys are weird."

"Speaking of," Mina says, brushing flour off her hands. "I have to go work a late shift at the school library now, where I'm sure to see weird things like the guy who always sits alone in the history hallway to pick his nose for an hour, or the couple who are technically banned because we keep finding them getting it on in random corners."

Slowly, Brooklyn turns his head to me and I think he's going to remark on how particular my friend is, except that he says, "Tell me you're not hanging out at the library on your own where any of these weirdoes could do something to you, right?"

I snort. "Of course not, big brother."

"Ew, I'm not your brother," he says in a deadpanned voice. "I'm also far more handsome than him. And talented. And popular. And frankly, my communication skills are so much better than all his grunts and glowers."

Next to him, Mina gives me a look that is supposed to convey a lot of meaning, except I don't get it. Finally, she mouths, "We'll talk."

Well, that doesn't sound good.

Aloud, she says something even worse. "Anyway, I'll leave you two alone until Dee arrives."

"Enjoy your exhibitionists," Brooke returns offhand as he chews.

Mina makes a rude gesture that only makes him grin. One day they're going to be the best of friends and that day I'll start living in fear of the terror they'll inflict upon me. Terror that I'm already feeling the first tendrils of as I watch Mina wash her hands and collect her purse. She twirls her fingers in farewell before leaving.

The sound of the front door closing echoes around the quiet.

I am not going to look at Brooklyn now.

"I'm full," I say too loudly, hoping he takes that as a hint to start packing up. "Thanks for the pizza." I start closing the box with three fourths of the pizza still in it.

"I can help you pick up."

"No, take your time eating. You're probably still hungry."

I could kick myself. Brooke himself gave me the perfect out and I didn't take it. Almost like I don't actually want him to leave.

Who am I trying to fool? I wish he could stay all night, not necessarily for nefarious purposes, but just to chat. We used to stay up super late talking about any and everything before I went and gave him a reason for a tattoo. Not that I'm the sole person responsible for it. I'm only a fraction of its meaning.

My head's a mess already and it's only been five minutes since Mina left. I need an outlet for all this nervous energy that won't make me screw things up.

"I, um, I'm gonna get started on the dishes." I can feel him watching me while I stand up.

"Okay."

I can breathe easier in the kitchen, with a whole island and barstools in between. After rolling the sleeves of my sweatshirt, I squirt a big dollop of soap on the sponge and get to work.

"So, you wanted to talk about the game?" I ask, picking up on a thread of conversation from before Hurricane Mina.

"I did."

I jump in my skin, because Brooke's right behind me .

Glancing over my shoulder, I find him on this side of the kitchen island. How did he even get all the way here without me noticing?

Right, he's not wearing shoes either.

He's just leaning there, torso slightly curved to make himself a smidge shorter to rest his hands back on the island's surface. One of his legs is folded over the other one, like he's going nowhere. His chin's tilted back as he watches me.

I whirl around right in time to nick my finger with the knife I was trying to wash.

"Ow!" A drop of blood forms on my fingertip.

And then Brooklyn's arms are around me.