A few drinks and a few hours later my good mood was still nowhere to be seen. I sat there with my kiddie wine cooler replaced by a more adult tequila, trying to watch the movie, but all I could think about was how absurd it was that they were engaged.
Sadie and I were kids sneaking liquor while her mom was out of town and they had the audacity to be engaged. And everyone made me feel like the ridiculous one when I expressed my concern. My mom told me I was being jealous when I said they were too young, Sadie told me they were too in love not to be engaged and I’d understand some day, Aaron loved to point out that he was three whole years older than us, like three years even matters, and Lydia said they’d be engaged for a long time before they even started discussing wedding plans.
It was all bullshit, but if they want to ruin their lives, I was going to let them.
When Sadie started groping Aaron under the blanket and I hated every word that came out of his mouth, I could feel myself turning into a mean drunk.
Pretending I wanted to stretch, I stood up, then bounded down the steps like a scared cat. I slipped on the flats by the door, said, “I’m going outside,” and ran out before either of them could stop me.
I sat on the stoop for a few minutes, the cold not really bothering me, waiting to see if Sadie would come out, knowing Aaron wouldn’t. When they didn’t, I started toward William Brooks’s house with my lowered inhibitions.
A strange house at night never looked so inviting. Or maybe it was because I was determined. Colonial wasn’t normally my thing, but the white brick and modest porch looked like bliss. The grass was neat, forgiving, and easily passable. If I had to I’d spend my night right here on the lawn and be okay with that.
“Stalk much?” he asked, leaning against his front door and catching me off guard. With both my feet firmly planted well into his yard, it was hard to deny that I was in fact stalking him.
“Sorry.” The porch light wasn’t on. I could hardly see him, which made me wonder if there would ever be a time when he wouldn’t sneak up on me.
“You say that a lot.”
“I guess I do,” I said, taking a tiny step closer.
“At the risk of getting yelled at—what’re you doing on my lawn?”
The question conjured up the image of a grumpy old man shaking his fist at a precocious neighborhood kid. William Brooks might’ve been older than me but he wasn’t old. I stifled a giggle.
“Running away. Where’s your dog?”
“He’s inside,” he said with a tilt of his head. “How’d you think I knew you were lurking around out here?”
“Oh, right.” Trying to straighten up, I tugged my sweater down and pulled my shoulders back. A weird tinge of excitement ran through me because we both used the word lurking to describe our encounters. “I thought you were just watching me, maybe.”
He laughed, really laughed. “Do you want to come in?”
“I do, but I don’t know if I should.” I took another step closer, a bigger one this time, trying to see his face.
“Well, would you like to sit down?” He gestured to the two wooden chairs on his right.
I didn’t answer; I just climbed the steps and plopped down in the first chair. In the light coming from the window I could finally see him. He was wearing a plain tee and flannel sleep pants at 9:41 p.m. on a Friday. A quick glance down to his feet revealed that, sadly, he wasn’t wearing any shoes, but the length of his toes was surprising.
“I’m Ollie,” I told him without any attempt at a handshake.
“Is that short for anything?” he asked without any attempt to introduce himself as he sat next to me.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “It’s just Ollie.”
“Got a last name?”
“I don’t know. Got a first name?”
“Listen, Ollie, I’m sure you already know my name, age, occupation, social security number, mother’s maiden name, and obviously where I live. Just trying to even the playing field.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed, splaying my hands. “It’s Oxmend.”
“Does your middle name start with an O too?” He raised one eyebrow and gave me a sort of smile like he couldn’t wait for the answer.
“Don’t have one. What’s your dog’s name?”
“It’s Boden.”
I smiled at such a coincidence. “I’ve been to Boden before.”
“The typical response when I tell people his name is ‘where’d you get that from?’ So, I have to ask, why have you been to Boden?”
Damn my big mouth. Things were going so well; I should’ve just smiled and nodded, but now I had to talk about it.
“Well, I normally never tell people I’ve been to Boden, I just say Sweden in general. I went with my dad on a work trip. He used to be a photographer and we ended up there. More like passed through, but it made an impression, ya know? Have you been?” Ending with a question would hopefully force him to answer instead of asking me a follow-up.
Looking at him made me realize he was really listening to me. He kept his gaze on mine and slightly angled himself in his chair to face me. I suddenly felt very uninteresting. Maybe I could mention all the other countries I’d traveled to, but that would bring me right back to my dad. We went everywhere together.
“No, I’ve never been,” he answered, “but I’ve always wanted to go. That’s where my family’s from. Going will be a pilgrimage of sorts for me.”
“So, you have plans to go then?”
“More like a goal.”
“Well”—I pulled my legs up on the chair to fully settle in—“what’s stopping you?”
His mouth hung open and he rubbed his thumb across his slightly stubbly chin like he was really thinking about my question.
“I’m busy and just waiting for my schedule to clear up.”
Casting my gaze back to the house across the street, I preformed the most exaggerated eye roll at his pathetic answer.
“That’s so lame,” I said without thinking about how this guy I didn’t even know would take it.
“You’re calling me on my BS?”
“I am,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to leave, “because that’s what it is.”
“Yeah. It is.” My eyes were eager to be on his face again, and when they landed there he was smiling. “Going back over there?” He pointed to Sadie’s.
“No.” My palms itched and my heart hurt and I couldn’t be in that house. I pulled my black cardigan more tightly around my body.
“Would you like to come in now?” he asked, eyeing me.
I thought about it and decided I’d rather risk a stranger’s company than be with my closest friends. “Yes.”
Once inside I was eagerly greeted by Boden. I sank to my knees and basked in the ever-present and unconditional love all dogs have to offer while Dr. Brooks disappeared down the dark hallway. I began to feel uneasy and out of place in his very nice, very grown up home.
A few seconds later, a light flickered on in the hall in front of me and he reappeared holding two steaming mugs. I followed him into the living room to my right.
It was nice. Everything was nice. From the wooden floor to the high ceiling—probably necessary because of his height—to the wainscoting. I probably watch too much HGTV.
I sat carefully on one of the leather chairs, trying not to mess it up by being on it. As I gingerly sipped my hot beverage, I had to remind myself to breathe.
“It’s tea,” he informed me. “I hope that’s all right with you. I don’t drink coffee.”
I nodded my head and took another sip. It was more than all right. It was delightful. And I didn’t drink coffee either, but I didn’t tell him that. He sat on the couch across from me with the kind of ease and grace that can only come from years of self-confidence.
“It’s fine, but I thought new doctors were mostly fueled by coffee.”
He laughed. Again. I couldn’t tell if it was at me or with me. “What did Sadie tell you I do?”
He said her name with ease, and his comment earlier about how I probably already knew all those things about him had me wondering if he and Sadie actually did talk.
“Who said we talked about you? Maybe I just guessed.”
He gave me a knowing yet sexy stare, raising one eyebrow and tightening his jaw. “You talked about me.” Confidence.
“She said you’re a doctor. Aren’t you?” I held the oversized mug to my chest in an attempt to warm up.
“I’m a veterinarian student.” He seemed to be watching my reaction. For the most part I was relieved—he was not as old as I thought.
“That would explain it.” I gave him a sort of smile back.
“Explain what?” He swiped his thumb across his bottom lip to capture some rogue tea, and the movement was so captivating I forgot he asked a question.
After I found words again, I said, “Why I didn’t get the doctor-y vibe from you.”
“Well, that’s not exactly a fair statement. I’ll still be a doctor. I’ll have a white coat and the ability to write prescriptions. People will call me Dr. Brooks.”
“Not your patients.” I laughed at my own joke so hard I almost sloshed my tea over the rim of my mug. I thought I was pretty funny.
“You got me there, Ollie.” He smiled back at me while I enjoyed the sound of my name from his mouth. “Did Sadie tell you anything else?”
Her name sounded like the emergency broadcast system beeps when he said it: loud, a bit alarming, but mostly annoying.
I shook my head. “No, just that.”
In the silence that followed, I took the time to study his house. It could’ve passed for a model home with its clean modern lines and lack of personal effects. In fact, I would’ve thought he was living in a model home if it weren’t for the large bookshelf in the back of the room. It was sagging under the weight of countless haphazardly stowed books. For the most part they appeared to be textbooks, but I could pick out a few novels.
Though the furniture was minimal, it was obviously costly. There was a fireplace that was either cleaned meticulously or seldom used, while the mantel lacked the standard knick-knacks and instead only displayed his undergrad diploma and some other plaque of hot, soon-to-be doctor achievement.
“How old are you?”
His clear blue eyes widened the tiniest bit, like he wasn’t expecting that question. And that was probably because he wasn’t.
“Older than you, I’m assuming, baby.” He leaned forward and covered the distance between us with his almost too-long arm to mess up my hair.
I snickered as I struggled to put my already messy hair back into some kind of place with my one free hand, but internally my heart set off a miniature fireworks display. He. Called. Me. Baby. Sure, it was probably to emphasis his point, but still!
Oh, God. Was I already into him?
“I’m in the third year of my grad program,” he said, still leaning forward on the couch.
“Oh.” I tried to calculate how old that made him. Damn my lack of knowledge on veterinary schooling.
Another pause in the conversation followed, which I chalked up to my inability to hold one. It didn’t feel entirely uncomfortable, though, and I could only hope he felt the same.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Dr. Brooks asked a short time later, pointing across the street.
“What makes you think something’s going on?”
He furrowed his brow. “It just seems like you’re over here because you’re hiding from bad news over there.”
“My friends aren’t bad news.” I leaned back in my seat. If I wasn’t mistaken, the action only made him press forward more.
“Why are you defending people you don’t want to see?”
“You know what they say about old habits.” I shrugged, not sure how much I wanted to or should share. “I’ve known them for a long time. I know they’re not bad people; they just do bad things sometimes.”
“Isn’t that what defines a bad person?” He asked as if he was genuinely curious, not accusing.
“I think intent as well as actions define a bad person. Actions don’t always reflect what’s in your heart.”
He seemed to consider my words for a long minute. “You’re deep, Ollie Oxmend.”
Was that a compliment, put down, or simple statement? “I call ’em like I see ’em,” I told him.
He smiled and nodded, then finished his mug of tea in one mighty gulp. “And here I was trying to call you on your BS.”
A witty comeback didn’t spring to mind quickly enough, so we shared yet another moment of silence until I said, “So, should I call you Dr. Brooks?”
“Seems a bit formal for the conversation we’ve been having, don’t you think?”
“Well, from what I know about you, you’re older than me and a soon-to-be-doctor. Seems like the right thing to do.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” He blinked, most likely mimicking what I’d just done.
“Fine, we’ll compromise. I’ll just call you Brooks.” He didn’t have an immediate response for my solution so I assumed it was fine. Of course, I could’ve just called him William, which was a perfectly fine name, but it wasn’t special enough for him.
“Do you think they’ll worry about you?” He popped his thumb out in the direction of the house across the street.
I didn’t have to think about his question at all, though. “No.”
“So, Sadie is the kind of friend who lets you walk out of her house alone at night, and won’t worry?”
I put my mug down and leaned forward from my casual, relaxed position. I wanted him to see my face and hear my words. Sadie wasn’t as sweet as her appearance suggested. She was the kind of girl who wasn’t afraid to take what she wanted, no matter who she hurt. I wanted him to know she wouldn’t leave Aaron to comfort me.
“Yes, that’s exactly the kind of friend Sadie is.”
“I always figured her as that type.” He didn’t even bat an eye when he said it, but a fit of laughter escaped my lips. He eventually started laughing too. “I didn’t think you were that drunk.”
“I’m not.” Which was my automatic response, no matter what. “I only had a little to drink and that was earlier.” Was I drunk? I did feel…different. He seemed to watch me carefully while I considered my alcohol intake and picked the mug back up. “I’m not,” I told him again, only slightly more confidently.
“For someone who’s a bad friend, you spend enough time with her.”
“How would you know?” I countered.
“I see things. I hear things.”
That response was problematic for me. I lived in an apartment building and I hardly ever saw or heard my neighbors. I couldn’t name any of their friends or even boyfriends. Hell, I didn’t even know most of their names, and they lived only feet away from me, which led me to believe that maybe he was at least semi-close with Sadie.
“I’ve known her for a very long time. She has her moments.” I hoped those were good enough reasons.
He sighed. “I think you give too much of your time and energy to people who don’t deserve it.”
I thought he didn’t know me well enough to be pinning me with such deadly accuracy. Immediately I wanted to cry, but luckily my fake lashes were securely in place. I never cried in front of anyone, for any reason, and I had no intention of showing Dr. Brooks just how broken I really was.
“You’re probably right,” I told him, placing the tea on the end table again. “I should go now.” I stood up.
“You don’t have to leave. I’ll make more tea.”
“It’s getting late and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” No, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, but I really, really didn’t want to go back across the street. I pulled my cardigan down so far it almost reached my knees.
“Are you going back to Sadie’s?”
It made the most sense to lie and say yes, but I knew he’d not only be able to tell I was lying, he would watch me leave and not go to Sadie’s. “I just wanna go home.”
“You know you can’t. You’ve had too much to drink.”
“I can’t go back over there.” I was probably sounding immature and overly dramatic, but my mental health depended on it.
“Ollie, you don’t have to go. Really, stay.”
“Stay?” I sat back down on the couch.
“I have an extra room. Two actually.” He pointed upstairs, and it made me wonder if he had some finger gesture quota he had to reach every day.
I wasn’t exactly sure how good of an idea it was to sleep in a practical stranger’s house, but the longer I stayed away from Aaron, the better. I didn’t want to question the weirdness of Brooks’s offer out of fear of him taking it back.
How bad could a guy with a dog be?
“Sure.” I pulled the one shoulder shrug.
“Sure?” He shrugged back.
After I agreed, he offered me the guest bedroom across from his room, but I was more comfortable sleeping downstairs on the couch. I felt like less of an intruder that way. He offered me a t-shirt and athletic shorts to change into as well as pillows and blankets—I only took the blankets.
“You’re a good host,” I told him as I settled on the couch.
“Not so good you’ll actually sleep in a bed.” He gave me a challenging look as if I was offending him.
“I’m comfy.” I pulled the soft navy blanket up around my chin as he stood over me.
Brooks locked the front door, then stopped in the threshold of the living room to peek in at me. “Empty bed upstairs. Last offer.”
With the cozy blanket and comfort of knowing there’d be a floor separating us, I said, “I’m good.”
He shook his head. “Goodnight, Ollie.”
“Goodnight, Brooks.” I never felt more comforted or odder in my life.