Page 51 of Love and Other Chances

“Mmm, it’s complicated. And confusing.” I pause. “Part of me feels terrified of repeating the past. That doesn’t feel safe at all. But part of me feels overjoyed to have this chance withthisBrooks. That feels safe-ish. So, what does that mean?”

“That was probably a bad way to phrase the question,” Lana jumps in. “Relationships are never risk-free. Even without past hurt to consider. As you get ready to walk out the door to go on a real date with Brooks—possibly the start of a real relationship—are you feeling peace about it?”

Our small group discussion from Wednesday about peace fills my mind. And I have my answer.

“Yes. I feel peace about it.”

“Then we’re pumped for you!” Lana squeals.

Amaya nods. “Know that we’re praying for you tonight, Beef.”

“And we expect a full report,” Lana adds.

“Scout’s honor,” I reply. “Now I need to finish getting ready. Love you both!”

At 6:25 p.m. I give my reflection one final perusal. Satisfied with my appearance, I head to the living room to pace until Brooks shows up. I’m thankful that Gina had plans tonight, giving me space to be alone with my frenzied energy. Even though my heart feels at peace with my decision to date Brooks, it’s still working overtime, beating twice as fast as usual.

At 6:31 p.m., the doorbell rings.

I blow out a breath and open the door.

Brooks stands on the porch, dressed in dark jeans and a blue Henley shirt under a half-zipped fleece jacket. His hair looks extra-perfectly styled tonight, and his eyes regard me with a mixture of intensity and playfulness. His smile grows as he holds out a coffee tumbler with an intricate floral design.

“I thought about bringing flowers, but decided a hot cup of sugary caffeine might be the better offering for tonight,” he says. I reach out to take the tumbler from him, and he allows his fingers to linger against mine for a split second before letting go.

“Ready?” he asks, and I realize I’ve been smiling at him without saying a word.

“Yes! Ready! Let me put on my jacket,” I reply.

Brooks takes the coffee while I slip my arms through my jacket sleeves, then hands it back to me. It may have been a gentlemanly move, or it may have been an excuse for extra physical contact. Either way, I’m taking it.

We walk to the sidewalk, and Brooks opens the passenger door for me.

“Do I get to know where we’re going now?” I ask once he sits in the driver’s seat.

“What? And ruin the fun of the surprise? No way,” he replies cheekily. I smile in the darkness as he pulls into the street.

“You can even close your eyes if you want the full shock factor,” he adds. I happily comply. “And I’m not even suggesting that just so I can stare at your beautiful face while you’re not looking.”

“You’d better keep your eyes on the road,” I scold, swatting his arm. Except, since I can’t see, I miss, and hit his firm chest instead. I feel my cheeks warm.

“I’m an excellent multi-tasker,” is the only reply he gives.

As we drive, Brooks tells me funny stories about his students from the week, filling the short car ride with laughter. He tells me to stay put after parking the car then opens my door and guides me out.

“One step up onto the curb here.” He leads, holding me steady.

“This was an excuse to hold my hand, wasn’t it?” I tease, eyes still closed.

There’s a small pause, and I can feel Brooks’ gaze without seeing it. “I’ll make up every excuse I can, Sneaks.” He clears his throat. “Now open!”

My eyes fly open to take in the sight of Brooklyn’s only bowling alley. I burst out laughing.

“Cosmic bowling?”

“Notjustcosmic bowling. Get ready for the most intense game of trick shot HORSE bowling you’ve ever played,” Brooks says with a mischievous grin. “Let’s go!”

After donning the rental shoes and picking out bowling balls, Brooks leads me to the lane he reserved for the night. The bumpers are up, and Brooks explains the “rules” of his made-up game to me.

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