Realizing my hand is still threaded in her hair, I pull it back, holding our stare. "You're..." I start. Brooke looks at me with wide eyes, waiting anxiously for what might come next. "Really sweaty."
My arm falls the rest of the way to my side as Brooke shoves her hand into my chest. "Ass," she snaps.
"For the kiss or the comment?"
She crosses her arms as her bag falls to the crease in her elbow. "Both."
"You sure you're mad about the kiss? Or are you just mad that you liked it?"
Brooke parts her lips, ready to speak—or argue maybe—but nothing comes out. I step just an inch closer and add, "That you likeme."
She swallows, and my whole body reacts to the movement of her throat. "It's not happening," she says.
"That's not a denial."
Brooke blows a breath through her lips, then tucks her hair behind her ear. "I'm not the same girl I was ten months ago, Drew. I'm not looking for a fling anymore. I want strings. And roots." She grinds the toe of her shoe into the pavement and avoids my gaze. "I'm trying to finally plan for a future."
"Okay," I say skeptically, realizing that should scare me more than it does. But instead, I'm just happy that she finally gave me something back. "And what's that have to do with me?"
Brooke looks at me blankly. When she chews on her cheek, reality hits me. "Is this seriously because of my age? What year are we living in again?"
"It has nothing to do with me being embarrassed that you're younger than me—by a lot FYI." This time it'smyexpression that's unwavering. "But I know howIwas living less than a year ago, let alone six..."
I can't help the way a smirk tugs at the corners of my lips.Fuck, I love that she's older.
"I'm serious," she says. "AndIwasn't a goddamn hockey sensation."
"And how do you know that's not exactly what I want too?"
"Oh, come on, Drew. I'm not an idiot. I watch the games. I see the pictures."
On cue, her words from our first night together rattle in my mind.Suddenly, my hand reaches for her chin, placing it between my fingers, the reality that none of that shit is real sitting at the forefront of my mind. "And what happened to admitting you don't know me at all?"
Brooke gasps, her eyes darting to my mouth. I know she won't just believe me if I tell her, especially after my impromptu kiss. And who could blame her? I pay a shit-ton of money to make my life exactly that—believable.
This time I don't try to hide my grin. When I finally speak, I'm not sure who I'm talking to more—her or myself. "Actions speak louder than words, Mystery Girl."
11
Brooke
I've been walking for—honestly I'm not even sure how long now. I always walk home after a workout class to cool off and soak in another twenty minutes of endorphin-filled bliss. Sometimes I grab a coffee from the corner shop or a smoothie from the wellness place right down the street from the gym, but today? Today I've used every block—and more, apparently—to stew over mine and Drew's little run-in.
I passed my apartment at least five minutes ago. But the slight October breeze and constant whirring of cars taking their passengers to work or the store—or the moon for all I care—crafted the perfect backdrop and white noise for dissociating over something that shouldn't have even happened in the first place.
Drew kissed me.
He fucking kissed me.
Right in the middle of the goddamn street.
So, there was no tongue involved. And it lasted maybe a total of three seconds. But this was no kiss from my grandma, God rest her soul. No, this was ayou know you want mekiss that held up the entire sidewalk.
Who does that besides Golden City's star forward? I should have known the Flames' number twelve doesn't mind causing a scene. Peopleslowed down, gawked, some stopped altogether. But he didn't notice. I guess he's immune to that by now.
I'm pissed at him. Not just about the kiss, but for not dropping all this. I'm trying to do Levi a favor, and honestly, I'm having fun. I spent hours last night splicing footage and adding in images to create a post to highlight the team's first win. And it came out great. Turns out creating reels and pairing them with the perfect song might be one of my strengths. If I could just apply that same energy to finding myself a solid man that's not a half-dozen years younger or at least one thatlistensto me. Or, better yet, a job that might exist two months from now.
The truth is, if Iwasgiving Drew even the slightest green light, I'd probably love this whole thing. I want a man who takes charge. Who goes after what he craves and can put me in my place—almost.But I'm not giving him that signal. I've told him no, and he's acting like this anyway. I say it's not happening, and he asks me out. I blow it off, and he smacks his lips to mine. Add in everything else and it's exactly how I would expect someone his age to behave. He's certainly not doing himself any favors.
