Page 59 of Fighting for You
“You didn’t have to, it’s written all over your face,” I retort. I fist my hands to keep from doing something I might regret.
“Brooks, you took a civil conversation and turned it on its head. When will you grow up?”
At this point, there might be literal smoke coming out of my ears. I haven’t been this pissed since the altercation with Colton at that dive bar. “I’ve been grown up,littlebrother, you just missed it because you were too fucking busy in Seattle pretending none of us existed.”
He doesn’t waste another second on me, turning on his heel to leave. He clearly needs the last word though, so he shouts over his shoulder, “I thought you’d changed. Apparently, I was wrong.”
I don’t respond. I’m too pissed off, nothing but vitriol will come out. And those words cut deep, deeper than anything else he said because it’s what I’ve been telling myself for days now. As the swinging door flaps back and forth, I’m left to stew in my own shit once again.
He’d come here to discuss my relationship with Margot. He’d intended on getting me to stop seeing her because she’s too good for me. He didn’t say those words, but he might as well have with the way his face twisted up about it.
I know she’s too good for me. I know I’m not worth her time. I know I’ll never change. I just never expected someone else to bring it to light. It’s been my own dark secret I’ve held close to my chest, never speaking it out loud. But now, it’s out in the open, it’s been given life by the one person I thought would be on my side.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Margot
“You’ve folded those sheets three times already.”
I snap out of my daze and find Lydia eyeing me. My blush is immediate, so I quickly finish folding the last of the bedding and move on to tidying up her already neat kitchenette.
I can’t seem to get my mind to think of anything but my date a few days ago and everything that followed. The connection Brooks and I shared, the gentle way he touched me, the way he looked at me the morning after. I can’t imagine a better first time experience. And now, anytime I have an idle minute, my thoughts drift to him, and I have to fight a huge beaming smile… along with the flutters low in my belly at the memory of us moving together.
It doesn’t help that we decided to give this a real shot, and I have no one to talk to about it. I’m dying to tell Thea and Ripley, I’m sure they’ll get a real kick out of it, but I don’t want to say anything to them until I have a chance to speak with Hayes—I can’t have him hearing from someone else and killing my boyfriend.
Oh, Brooks is my boyfriend.I wonder if he’d like the sound of that as much as I do.
It’s quiet for a bit, just the low sounds of the TV and me shuffling magazines and pens from one spot to another filling the room.
“You know, I think you have a little something there,” says Lydia, and when I turn around, she’s wearing an expression of faux concern, pointing at the side of her neck. I slap my hand on the spot she’s motioning to—the spot Brooks sucked a huge hickey into just two days ago—the spot that must still be showing even though I wore a turtleneck under my scrubs and my hair down.
When I don’t come up with an excuse for the mark, she chuckles and says, “Ah, so I guess you finally got your card punched at the Boom Boom Room.”
I blink at her a few times as her words register. “Oh my God. Please never string those words together in that order again,” I say as the heat in my cheeks reaches a boiling point.
“Would you rather I say you gotdeflowered?” she coos.
“That’s it, I’m going to ask for a transfer to the memory care wing,” I say, turning as though I intend to leave but laughing at her antics.
“Oh, stop it. Come here and tell me all about it.” She motions me over to her usual table by the window. I grab a mug from one of the kitchenette cabinets and fill it using the new teapot I got her for Christmas that she’s set out on the table.
“There’s not much to tell. He took me out on a date, and it was lovely. Then I spent the night at his house… and that was lovely too,” I say, feeling shy.
“Lovely, sure. Not exactly the word I’d use to describe the way your neck looks like it’s been mauled by a Hoover,” she says with a chuckle as she takes a sip from her cup.
I shoot her a look I hope comes off as withering, but it’s completely undermined by my following giggle. “He was great, very sweet and gentle,” I say then sigh. “And we decided to try this—us—but ever since I left his place, he’s been… distant.” I hang my head, finally voicing my concerns out loud. I’m trying hard to hold on to the happiness I felt when he dropped me off, but it’s getting more and more difficult when he seems to be pulling away. He’s responding to my texts, but barely. I tried calling him yesterday, but he texted back he couldn’t speak.
“Distant how?”
“I feel like I’m in high school complaining about a boy not calling me back. It’s okay, I’ll figure it out. I’m seeing him tonight for the Jingle Mingle, so I’ll talk to him then,” I say. “He’s probably been busy with renovating his parents’ house.”
Lydia hums thoughtfully. “I’m a little surprised. I’d think he would be more sensitive knowing how important what you shared with him was.”
I bite my lip and glance down at my new bracelet, a Christmas present from Lydia. The charms on it catch the overhead lights. “I may not have told him it was my first time… in so many words.” I shift my eyes back up to Lydia and find her looking at me with suspicion.
“What words did you use?” she asks.
“Something like, ‘take me to bed?’” I say, but it comes out as almost a question. I sink a little into myself, ready for her to tell me it was the wrong way to handle the situation, that my age and immaturity are showing.
