“Okay, but why do you think that?” Christine asked, her question genuine, not accusatory.
Brooke shook her head and sat down on the edge of her bed.“She has an ex-boyfriend.”
“Okay, but bisexuals exist,” Christine said easily.“I mean, you’re talking to one right now.” It was playful, teasing, clearly trying to alleviate some of the tension. Christine knew Brooke’s history. She knew about how Brooke’s heart had been broken and that she had never truly let anyone in afterwards. She kept everyone at arm's length. She knew that Brooke’s crush on Anna was more a source of anxiety than it had been amusing for Brooke for quite some time.
“I know that bisexuals exist, Christine. I just have no real reason to believe that Anna is one.”
Christine snorted out a laugh.“You say it like we’re a mythical creature found out in the wild. Like a unicorn or a narwhal.”
“Chris, narwhals are real,” Brooke said, flopping back on her bed.
“Wait, really?” Christine asked.“Huh? Well, anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, let’s look at the facts: Anna said yes to going with you and pretending to be your girlfriend. She has been incredibly flirty with you. She has kissed you on the cheek twice now,andshe had a queer book on her to-read list.”
Brooke sighed. All of those things were fairly queer things to do, but Brooke wasn’t one to make serious assumptions about people. She actually felt gross even, speculating now with her best friend.“I’m going to mess this all up.”
“No, you’re not. She’s coming over tomorrow night, right?” Christine asked.
Brooke nodded, but then realized that Chris couldn’t see her.“Yes, she’s coming over,” she confirmed.
“Maybe you could ask her?” Christine nudged.
Brooke sat straight up.“Ask her what exactly?”
“If she’s bi? Or pan? Or I don’t know… single?”
Brooke flopped back down on the mattress.“I can’t, Christine. If I do, I run the risk of ruining everything by making her uncomfortable, or the questions go well and all the sudden I won’t want to subject her to my family.” She let out a bitter laugh.“God, I’m selfish.”
“No, B. You’re truly not. Not in the slightest.” Christine reassured her.“You’ve made a good point, though.” Christine hummed again, as she always did when she thought.“I think you should wait to ask her about anything real. You fly out in less than a week. You’ll be back in less than two. You can ask the serious questions when you get back. You’ve waited this long, you know?”
Brooke sighed again. She felt so dramatic, pacing and sighing and flopping around on her bed. This was so out of character for her. This is why she avoided feelings.“You’re probably right,” she muttered.“I’ve had a crush on her for a year. What’s two more weeks?”
The knock on Brooke’s door came at the worst possible time. The kitchen timer was going off and her bowtie noodles were about to hit al dente. She wasn’t someone who swore a lot, but she muttered a few choice words now, hit the timer button, and flipped her stove top from high to low.“Coming,” she yelled out, pulling the oven open just a crack to make sure she hadn’t burned the stuffed portobello mushrooms she was baking.
They looked fine, like she could quickly rush to let Anna in and rush back without a worry. So, she did just that. She shot a quick glance through her peephole before she yanked open the front door and promptly forgot how to breathe. Anna looked, in a word, perfect. She was in sweatpants and her hair was up in a half up half down little number that was oddly adorable. She was in a sweater that was so large it fell off one shoulder, revealing a plain black bra strap, and she was carrying a duffle bag and a bottle of wine.
“Hey, Hon,” she beamed, clearly pleased with Brooke’s reaction.
Brooke swallowed and forced herself to take a breath. No one should look that good in house clothes. She was wearing a slightly more put together version of what Anna was wearing. She had selected her nicest joggers and a short sleeved hoodie. Her hair was pulled back in a simple bun at the nape of her neck. She realized that she was still just staring.“Good evening, Darling. Please, come in.” Her eyes widened.“Ah, and if you’ll just excuse me for a second. Um, please, make yourself at home.”
Brooke all but sprinted back into her kitchen. She had stayed up until almost one in the morning researching recipes for things she could cook Anna for dinner. This one had seemed easy enough, stuffed portobello mushrooms and bowtie pasta. She’d also made her tried and true homemade marinara sauce from scratch. She slammed her hand into an oven mitt and pulled her stove open, sighing happily with relief to see that she hadn’t burned the mushrooms. She sat the cooking sheet on a hot pad and moved to strain the bowtie noodles.
“Can I help with anything?” Anna asked, leaning against the archway that led into Brooke’s kitchen.
Brooke cast a quick glance at Anna over her shoulder, before plating the noodles.“I think I've managed to not burn anything.” She nodded towards the last pot remaining on her stove top.“If you wouldn’t mind weighing in on my marinara sauce, I would accept all constructive criticism.”
Anna let out a low chuckle and crossed the kitchen, her eyes looking all around the small room as she did.“Where would I find a spoon?”
Brooke pointed at a drawer and went back to delicately trying to scoop one of the massive mushroom caps onto a plate without breaking it apart.
“It smells amazing, by the way,” Anna said as she pulled open Brooke’s silverware drawer and fished out a spoon.
Brooke finished plating the mushrooms in time to watch Anna slip a spoon full of sauce into her mouth. Anna let out a happy moan and danced a little in delight.“Brooke Kent, you’ve been holding out on me.” She spun around and grinned.“This is absolutely delicious.”
Brooke could feel the tips of her ears getting pink. She had found this recipe while she was in university and it had been her go-to for pasta and for pizza ever since. She had been afraid that while it was good enough for her, it wouldn’t live up to the standards of an up and coming chef.
Anna grinned up at her.“Hi,” she said again, just before she pulled Brooke into a quick, natural hug.
“Um, hello,” Brooke said, wrapping her arms nervously around Anna in return. They broke apart just as quickly as they had come together and Anna stepped back, out of Brooke’s bubble. She bounced happily on the balls of her feet, which Brooke noticed were now only clad in mismatched socks. One sock was pink with pineapples and the other was a bright blue with polar bears.“Are you ready for dinner?” Brooke asked, still a little shocked from the unexpected hug.
