33. BROOKLYN

CHAPTER 33

brOOKLYN

O livia is avoiding me. Kind of. On Thursdays our schedules don't match, but on Friday night I have an away game and it gives her the perfect excuse to stay MIA the whole day. I invite her over to the library on Saturday, so we can finish our Spanish presentation and maybe also make out in the history section, and she claims to have A Thing Going On the Whole Weekend. She doesn't reveal what, though. But at least, she agrees to talk on Monday after our last Spanish class together.

Now, we sit together in class and she's definitely trying to pretend like I'm not here. I mean, I have my arm on the back of her seat, a leg propped up on my chair so I can sit facing her, and she still keeps her eyes set on the pair of students giving their final presentation downstairs.

It would be amusing if it wasn't so frustrating. She said, out of her very mouth that I thoroughly savored, that she wants me . I'm sure that hasn't changed in the span of five days. So why is she acting like this?

My phone buzzes against the table and I flip it around to find a text from my defensive partner.

Great Dane

Ready?

With one hand, I type up a response in return.

Me

I don't know

She's still being all weird

What if this makes it worse?

James the Goalie

Well, if you don't tell her how you feel she's going to stay even weirder amirite?

Since when did he get so wise? Or maybe he always was and I'm only finding out now that I talk more openly with both of them.

Me

K good point

Wish me luck, gentlemen

Great Dane

Godspeed soldier

James the Goalie

Knock her dead

But like, figuratively

I slide the phone back on the table, face down. When I glance up, Liv turns back to the front so fast it must make her dizzy. My lips stretch into a smirk. I wonder if she was a bit jealous that I finally paid attention to something else.

But it's okay, after today she'll know I don't truly pay attention to anyone else .

Her hair fell forward after she moved, and I want full access to her face again. I reach over, brushing my fingers against her skin as I tuck her hair back behind her ear. And since I learned her ears are sensitive, I linger there, playing with her piercings as if they were the point of my interest.

Sure enough, Liv shivers.

Her hand comes out like a whip against my ribs. She whispers, "What are you doing?"

I bite my lips hard so I don't laugh. "Nothing."

"Doesn't feel like nothing to me."

"Oh yeah?" I lean closer to her ear, her shoulder brushing against my chest. "What does it feel like?"

Her nostrils expand with a sharp intake of air. Like maybe she's only now realizing that she just admitted how my touch affects her. We're so close, if she fully turns her head we could kiss. But all she does is scoot far enough to gift me a fierce side-eye.

"Liv—"

"We said we'll talk after class." The finality of her voice makes me sigh.

I pull away and behave until it's our turn to present. As we walk down the steps together, it occurs to me that maybe she's being all weird because she feels physically attracted to me, but doesn't like- like me. That's possible. It's how I felt for the countless girls before her.

But her exact words in the dressing room were I want you , and not I want to kiss you like I originally asked her. So maybe my plan isn't as outrageous as it has felt in the past few minutes.

"Buenos días," she says in a perfect Spanish accent, only mismatching because she seems too polite. "Mi nombre es Olivia Rodriguez y éste es mi mejor amigo, Brooklyn Tatum."

What makes my eye twitch isn't how her name sounds so perfect in Spanish, while mine sounds so blah in English. But the fact she introduced me to the class as her best friend. I fold my arms, physically resisting the concept for the first time in my life.

I watch her as she continues with the introduction. Today she's in a grey button blouse and the same black pants that make every guy, including me, hang their tongues like cartoons. She's so freaking beautiful that she makes even standard business clothes become showstoppers.

I'm a beat too late to start my part, because I've been too busy ogling her like a fool. Clearing my throat, I say, "Les vamos a contar la historia sobre cómo nos hicimos amigos."

The lecturer said he wanted us to get more personal for this assignment, so Liv and I decided to make it about our friendship. How we became besties during a sad birthday party, to some other shenanigans like the time we cut class to go watch a Spider-Man movie at the cinema, to how she's the one person who has watched most of my games in person, to how I took a CPR class in high school for her.

The back and forth storytelling gets us some aww's and chuckles, which is already a much bigger reaction than most of the other presentations got. Among the audience, I spot our former group mates giggling up a storm. In contrast, the lecturer's expression tells me he's wondering what to make for dinner tonight.

I guess they're all going to get a shock pretty soon.

My ears roar as Liv recites the last words we have planned for the presentation. She points at me, because I'm supposed to be the one with the closer.

Except, I clear my throat and say, "Pero la historia continúa," in a gringo accent I can't quite shed no matter how much vocabulary I cram into my head.

Liv blinks hard. I reach for her hand and someone in the audience squeals.

"Brooke, what are you doing?" my best friend whispers .

"Shh, I'm trying to be brave here," I respond in a low voice, before raising it again. "Quiero escribir un nuevo capítulo contigo."

Her brown eyes widen. My whole face tingles and it's not doubt with one of those awful blushes that make me look like I have a rash. But I'll push through, because I want there to be no doubt in Liv's mind about what I mean. I want our story to continue, but not in the same way.

"No quiero seguir siendo solo tu mejor amigo." My voice lowers, because the next part of the speech is just for her. "Quiero ser tu novio."

Her lips part with a gasp.

A strident squeal echoes through the classroom. More noise explodes as all sorts of voices join in, or laugh, or coo—and I don't care. Because Liv's turned into a statue.

Her hand feels like ice in mine. I squeeze it a bit, to see if that snaps her out of the shock. But nothing. "Liv?"

Finally, she gives a sign of life by blinking so fast, her vision must be like the shutter of a camera. "You what?"

"I want to be your boyfriend," I say again, in English. Loud. "Not your best friend. Or just a friend. I want us to be together." I take a step closer to her, inhaling the scent of her skin. "I want you."

Tears spring to her eyes like it's a magic trick. But instead of jumping into my arms and kissing me senseless, she jerks her hand free and turns to dash out of the classroom.

There's more heckling than during an away game at the Bulldogs' arena, and the lecturer's straining his voice to keep the class quiet. I take off after Olivia. My stomach is so clenched, I fear I'm going to puke on my shirt.

She tries a door and I catch up to her as she's slipping through a second one. She tries to shut it in my face but I'm so much stronger. Still, I'm not going to wrestle her. "Liv, please. Can I come in? "

After a moment, she stops putting her weight against the door and I slip inside. The room is tiny and crammed with overflowing shelves of boxes, books, loose papers, and even dusty trophies. None of that matters. Liv stands in the middle and when she turns around, her face is rain and thunder.

"How dare you?" The question slips out of her throat like a growl and I freeze.