Page 26 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
I wrinkle my nose. “That is not breakfast. That’s diabetes in a bowl.”
“I can get you some if you’re jealous.” She glances down at her foot, which is still swollen. “Okay, you can get yourself some. I may have spilled half my bowl trying to get over here to sit down.”
Glancing toward the kitchen, I spot the puddle of milk and cereal, my whole body growing tense. Something tells me she left it there just to see what I’ll do, and I’m torn between cleaning it up for her like the gentleman that I am and being more unpredictable to keep her on her toes.
Why not do both?
“Give me that,” I say, grabbing the bowl from her before she can fight me on it. I take a bite, just to mess with her, and then I shudder. “New flirting lesson. If this Mochi guy is as sophisticated as you say, he’s not going to appreciate your love of Captain Crunch. I’m taking you to breakfast.” I say that last part as I head to the kitchen, stepping over her mess and dumping the rest of her food in the sink.
“Why?” Brooklyn folds her arms in indignation. “I’ve already eaten.”
I grab a few paper towels to clean up her spill. “You’re going to be hungry again in twenty minutes. Have you showered yet?” I glance up. “You’re going to shower, and then we’re going out. I’m taking you on a fancy brunch date.”
I don’t miss the way she turns bright red, though I have no idea what to do with that. This is uncharted territory, and I’m going to take things one minute at a time. Wherever we end up, I just have to hope we’re both better off for it.
Chapter Ten
Brooklyn
This might be the mosthumiliating moment of my life. Which is a shame because the morning started off so well.
It’s a good thing my foot can take a little weight today, or I would have had to shower while sitting on the floor. It’s weird enough showering with Jordan in my house, and I don’t need to feel like I’m not capable of my usual routine.
Routine might be the only thing that keeps me from losing my mind this weekend.
For about twenty seconds after I woke up, I forgot about the events of Friday. It was just a normal Saturday morning, full of silence and nothing to do. But as soon as I tried to get out of bed, my sprained ankle reminded me of the man sleeping just down the hall, and I praised the heavens that my bladder decided to hold its peace during the night. I managed to crawl to the bathroom on my own, but once I reached the living room where Jordan clearly fell asleep while working, I knew I had reached the end of my independence.
Today doesn’t feel as awkward as yesterday did though, which is nice. I’m fully functional again—mentally, anyway—and seeing Jordan when he’s asleep sparked something inside me. I don’t think I realized how much expression he really has until I saw him without it. When he was sleeping, he looked so much more at peace. For someone who doesn’t read body language super well, I feel like it means something for me to notice hownottense he is while he sleeps.
There’s a lot more to this man than I was giving him credit for yesterday, and I feel like I need to make myself forget how things were back in high school. I can’t dwell on how often he teased me or my boyfriends—especially them—even if he’s still very much a teasing kind of guy. He’s different enough that I almost want to pretend I don’t know him at all so I can really get to know the man he is now.
I just don’t want to know himthiswell.
Holding my towel firmly in place, I crack open the door and peek my face through. “Jordan?”
It only takes him two seconds to appear from the living room. “You ready to…” Yep. Only took him two more seconds to realize I’m in nothing but a towel. “Oh.”
I sigh. “My room isn’t that far. I can…” But I can’t hop. I’m barely managing to stand as it is after my mostly one-footed shower, and I don’t trust my towel to do its job if I have to hop to my room. “Just carry me quickly.”
“Nope.” Jordan stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweats, which look way too good on him. Sweatpants are not supposed to look that good on anyone. He may not have played baseball since his college days, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost the physique.
Have you ever seen a guy in baseball pants? I don’t especially like sports, but I can appreciate a guy in uniform.
Jordan clears his throat, pulling my gaze back to his face. “Sorry, Queens, but I’m drawing a line. Too much skin.”
I suppose I should be insulted that he doesn’t want to touch my skin, but I know Jordan. He’s always been a hands-on kind of guy with everything he does. He probably has a point.
“Can you grab me some clothes, then?”
He looks towards my bedroom and then keeps his eyes directed away from me. “What do you want?”
“Anything.” Anything to get me away from standing here almost naked in front of my brother’s best friend.
A smile twitches on his lips. “I’m going to have to open your underwear drawer,” he warns, and I want to smack him.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen women’s underwear before,” I snap.
He doesn’t argue, which sends my stomach tumbling.Oh. I guess I was hoping my comment wouldn’t be true, though I don’t know what I expected. Just because I’m waiting for marriage, doesn’t mean everyone else has the same viewpoints. How many women has he… Nope. I don’t need to know.
