Page 71 of Love and Other Chances

Brooks reaches a hand out to pull me to my feet. “I think we need to play to our strengths better. Let’s learn some dances instead.”

And thus, another two hours pass with us learning and performing one viral dance after another. We take turns picking the dances, only taking short breaks to refuel with candy. Nothing like a good jolt of sugar to keep the dance moves flowing.

Brooks was right—this is absolutely playing to our strengths. We manage to nail each dance in a fraction of the time it took us to figure out any of the gymnastic challenges. Each time we play back a finished product, I can’t help but smile at how good we look dancing together.

Totally in sync. Vibing with each other’s energy. Playing up each other’s best moves.

Eyeing each other with intense “I want you” expressions.

It’s honestly getting a little warm in here, and I’m not sure that has everything to do with the physical exercise.

Brooks swipes a hand through his tousled hair, smoothing it back into place. “All right—we totally slayed, but I’m cooked.”

“You and your Gen Alpha slang,” I say with a laugh. Brooks grins and holds up his hands in a “whatever” gesture. He flops onto the loveseat, grabbing my hand to pull me down with him. I lean my back against the arm of the loveseat, tenting my knees over Brooks’ outstretched legs. He wraps an arm around my knees, hugging them to his chest.

He props his head against his other hand, arm leaning on the back of the loveseat. “So, tell me something about you that would surprise me.”

I tilt my head. “Something that would surprise you?”

“Yeah, you know—something I’ve missed these past years that I wouldn’t expect from you,” he says.

“Hmmm.” My eyes search the ceiling for an idea. “I hated my public speaking class.”

Brooks raises his eyebrows. “But why? You’re a natural at talking in front of people.”

“I don’t mind attention or telling stories to groups of people on the fly. There was something about preparing a memorized speech that I couldn’t get into. It felt too rehearsed,” I say.

He nods thoughtfully. “I guess I could see that. But you know I’d sit and listen to you spout off memorized facts all day.”

I nudge his chest playfully with my knees. “Your turn. Something surprising.”

Brooks leans forward with an earnest expression. “You would never have guessed this, but I became a teacher.”

Now I gently kick his chest with one foot. “I already told you that surprised me, so that doesn’t count. Try again.”

He taps a finger on his chin. “The summer after my freshman year of college, I traveled with a group to run a basketball camp in Germany.”

I shake my head. “While interesting, you wanting to travel internationally is zero percent surprising. Or to play basketball. Try harder, Brooks,” I admonish, punching his arm.

“Fine, fine. I like to cook and watchThe Food Networkfor fun,” he says.

“Really?” I question, eyebrows raised. “You learned to cook? Thatiscompletely surprising.”

“Well, after . . .” He pauses. “I stayed with my dad for a while after my mom . . . I wanted to do something to help my dad. He basically only ate takeout unless someone brought him food. So, I learned to cook for us.”

Follow-up questions about how his dad dealt with Angela’s death—howhedealt with her death—linger on the tip of my tongue, but they hesitate to come out as spoken words.

“Tag. You’re it,” Brooks says, tapping my shoulder. “Surprise me again.”

“I worked at McDonald’s one summer,” I state.

Brooks’ mouth falls open. “I don’t believe you.”

After briefly laughing, I explain. “At the Summer Projects with Arrow in Florida, we worked during the days and did Bible studies and leadership training in the evenings. Of course, the most popular jobs available were the ones on the beach or in retail at the outlet malls, which I did work the other two summers. But after my sophomore year, I decided to take one of the less-desirable jobs.”

Brooks shakes his head slowly, an expression I can’t quite read in his eyes. “I bet that McDonald’s manager thanked their lucky stars tohave you working there for the summer. You were probably the most cheerful McDonald’s employee ever,” he says.

The warmth in his eyes as he gazes at me makes my heart slowly catch fire. “Your turn,” I murmur quietly, not looking away.

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