I shared so many things with Brooks after that. I told him about my dad and how he ended his life and how I reacted the way I did. If he didn’t understand, he was really good at pretending he could grasp my situation.
I told him about my relationship with my mom and that I blamed her for so much—about how it was her fault too. He needed to know about how she reacted when she found out about my cut. He needed to know my feelings for her were justified, but telling him was too hard. She sent me away and made me a mental patient, and that made me feel most broken of all.
It terrified me to say all those words out loud when I had practiced so carefully not to, but he needed to know. Brooks needed to know everything before he fell for me, because that past was a part of me.
I told him what happened and he didn’t run screaming. Which was great. Being close to Brooks was always great, but telling him my secrets didn’t instantly make their weight disappear like I imagined it would. In a sense I was so much lighter, but I still wasn’t…normal.
That’s what I wanted. That’s what I would’ve done anything to have. That’s what I feared I’d never be.
We spent the entire weekend together and didn’t leave the house once for anything except briefly to pick up my car. Brooks did most of the cooking, but we also had some majorly greasy yet delicious Chinese delivered Saturday night. I made Brooks go to the door and get it for fear of Aaron or Sadie seeing me.
I knew how preposterous that was, and that at some point I’d have to tell them we were together, but I didn’t want to burst the bubble just yet. In the back of my mind I thought maybe everything would be fine and Sadie and Aaron would be happy for me, but the reality was I knew they wouldn’t. It was concerning that I knew my best friends would want me to be happy, so I didn’t think about it.
I couldn’t believe it was my life I was living. We talked and touched and tickled and teased and it was perfect. I never got tired of being around Brooks. I could play housewife with him forever, but somewhere, distantly, I hoped it wasn’t just playing.
“Want to come to my place with me?” I asked with my legs in his lap as we rested comfortably on the couch.
“Hmm?” He looked up from the paper he was reading while squeezing my foot.
“I have to go to school and the shop. I need clothes and shoes and…things.” I hadn’t realized I could get by without my stuff for so long. There were the things Brooks bought me, but at my place I had stockpiles of junk I used every day.
“You’re inviting me over to your apartment?”
“Well, not to stay.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That isn’t very nice.”
“You won’t want to stay, trust me. But I thought you’d want to see.”
“I do. But are you staying here tonight?”
“Yes.” I kicked at him playfully. I didn’t even recognize myself in that moment, and it was the best thing possible.
“Good. Then I’ll drive.”
The whole ride over, I could hardly stay buckled in my seat. I was so excited to share this part of my life with him and Brooks was excited too. Sharing a bed with him was one thing, but sharing my apartment with him was another. Visitors were rarely allowed in my place. Granted, I hadn’t lived there that long, but Sadie was only over twice and Aaron had never been inside.
Pausing at my door, I took a deep breath. Brooks filled the entire hallway with his presence. The outside and little entrance area gave no clue to what kind of place it was, making it very unassuming. That was why I loved it so much. It looked like every other apartment building out there with its dull red bricks and thick cement steps out front. My name wasn’t even on the row of silver mailboxes.
I slowly nudged the creaky door open and Brooks leaned forward in anticipation. I loved that too.
When I stepped inside and moved to let him pass, because there wasn’t enough room for me not to, I did a Vanna White sweep with my hand. My place is what a real estate agent would call cozy, but with Brooks inside it felt down right miniscule. He took off my favorite dorky shoes by the door, like he was going to mess the place up, and looked around as if he was studying things in a museum. Once he took in his surroundings, he headed straight for my bedroom.
Feeling overwhelmed with the invited intrusion, I hovered just outside the door, giving him space to discover and explore. I owed it to him, really, after making myself right at home at his place. It wasn’t exactly even, though, because there was nothing to hide at his place; I checked. My apartment is full of secrets.
My things—my pale gray walls, my dainty lace curtains, my mess of clothes, books, and magazines, my life, everything—represented me perfectly. He ran his finger down the length of my unmade bed, which was a short trip, then got distracted. The pile of colorful magazines was a stark contrast to my white bed.
“Why do you read these?”
I stepped into the room, feeling he’d invited me to. “They’re entertaining and informative.”
With his finger on a teaser on the cover he read the title. “Fifty Sex Tips He’ll Love.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought a blush covered my cheeks. It felt like it did, but blushing wasn’t something I normally did—unless Brooks was around. When I’d read that magazine, I devoured the tips and filed them away for future use, but of course when the time actually came that silly article was the furthest thing from my mind. “So?”
“So, did you read it?”
“Uh huh.” I nodded very decidedly, appreciating his playful mood.
He flipped to the page of the article and began scanning the words. “Did you find it informative or entertaining?”
“Both.” I took it from his hands and threw it to the heap on the scratched-up wood floor.
“Hey. I wanted to see who wrote that.” He slipped his hands around my waist and practically threw me onto the bed. When he landed on top of me, I wondered if my little old metal bed frame could take it.
“What’s it matter who wrote it?”
He kissed me firmly on the mouth. “I wanted to thank them.”
We christened my bed. I had started to think it was never going to happen, and then when it did, I knew I’d waited so long because it had to happen with Brooks. Being in my own bed somehow made it all feel better.
It was also comical. We had to get creative with the limited space when we were mostly used to Brooks’s enormous bed and mine was one third the size.
For whatever weird reasons I had, I wanted to stay in the bed while we had sex. We were in my bed, my intimate space, and I felt like I was in a position—both literally and figuratively—to take charge of the situation.
Brooks was so surprised and turned on by my forwardness he didn’t last long, but luckily for me he always recovered quickly. I wanted more and finally understood why too much is never enough.
That was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise during our field trip to my place. We stayed much longer than I anticipated, but I don’t think either of us minded. He held me on top of him as we enjoyed the afterglow.
Brooks traced his fingertips up and down my back with his eyes closed. I knew that because I kept peeking. If he was a painting, in his state he would’ve been titled Peace. In my bed in my apartment, I couldn’t relax, but Brooks was resting like a puppy after a long walk. It made me wonder what was going through his mind. It made me wonder what another girl in my position would be doing.
Thoughts I always fought not to think raced through my mind. My shortcomings, my past mistakes, who was missing my life…my sadness. But with Brooks in my bed there was no more room left for melancholy.
It doesn’t work like that, though. Just being in my bed with him made my inadequacy meter go off the charts. When I was at his place, in his swanky surroundings, it was easier to pretend I was someone else, but in my bed with the tension already released, I was entirely too exposed.
What would a normal girl do? What would Sadie say?
“What’re you thinking?” The question left a bad taste in my mouth.
At my question, Brooks perked up and I tilted my chin to meet his eyes.
“I’m thinking I love—” The average pause we take between words while speaking is so miniscule that sometimes there isn’t one at all. The pause Brooks took between love and whatever word he was going to say next was an eternity. “Being here with you.”
My lips curved up in a smile, then down into a frown, before settling into a straight line.
“Was that too much?” He squeezed my arm.
He was so vulnerable at that moment, with his eyes all wide and round. It was hard to tell what I was expressing, but it must’ve looked more like a grimace. Brooks was bigger than me, smarter than me, wiser than me, older than me, braver than me, and he was worried about what I was thinking about him telling me he loved being with me.
There was nothing that could’ve made me feel better, except maybe if he actually said he loved me. I smiled. “No.” I shook my head. “That was perfect.”
Brooks started to return my smile but it got overtaken by my kiss.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he told me after coming up for air.
“Okay. Where?”
“A special place.”
“Let’s go.”
“Now?” He picked me up off the bed.
“No!” I squealed like a little girl as he swung me around.
“You’re telling me no?” His normally bright eyes grew dark.
“Yes?”
“No.”
I kissed him as he held me. Then I carefully climbed down Brooks’s long body, only to climb back up with my arms and legs wrapped around his neck and waist.
“Mmm.” He sighed as he realized we were in a wonderfully compromising position. “I’ve wanted to have sex with you standing up,” he told me.
“You can do it standing up?” I asked before I could think not to. Of course I knew people could have sex standing up, I just meant I didn’t know we could have sex that way. He was so tall.
He laughed in a small but sexy way.
“We can do it all kinds of ways.”
And he showed me exactly what he meant.