But then, neither did I.
I had no idea what I was doing at this point, except getting deeper and deeper into a lie that was growing more and more tangled every moment.
I don’t know what I’d expected.
Aside from what was now titled “The Tulip Video” taking off on social media, Brooks and I had tried to keep things low-key the last two days. Brooks had been acting a little weird, too.
“I think hemeantit,” Lia tried to convince me. She waved her hands over her phone camera. “Hellooooo! Did you even look at his face on the video?”
“I’ve triednotto watch the video,” I’d admitted. Mostly because I was mortified that it had skyrocketed to several hundred thousand views, shares, and comments.
“Well, I’ve watched it many times on your behalf.” Lia’s expression had been so genuine. So sweet. She had lowered her voice and leaned into her camera. “It was in his eyes . . .” Her voice was swoony-breathy. “The way he looked at you, Bri. He was—what am I trying to say? He was . . .longing. Heloooonnnnngedfor you.”
I told Lia sheneeded to stop eating so much sugar; it was making her delusional. But if she was right—I mean—if Lia was really right about Brooks . . . well. This was a huge reason why I was trying not to think about it too much. Overanalyzing was going to get me into trouble because IwantedLia to be right. I wanted Brooks to be—
“Ahhhh!” I yelped.
Strong arms interrupted my ponderings as I stood in front of my open locker, peering into it like somehow Narnia was going to appear out of nowhere.
I was swung around by whoever had embraced my waist and—okay, maybe notswung around—I was more half-dragged, half-lifted off the ground. Let’s face it. I’m an average-sized teenage girl, and “wispy or light” aren’t adjectives used to describe me.
It was Brooks. He was holding me.
I stopped breathing.
I think everyone in the hallway stopped breathing, and for sure, a ton of them whipped out their phones for the next viral sensation.
Brooks was oblivious.
His blue eyes were like oceanic waves of Caribbean sparkle. I was pretty sure I could surf in them—if I knew how to surf. And, his smile? Don’t get me started. Okay. I’ll start. It was—amazing. Like, there was a picture I’d seen of Niall Horan in full-on super happy glee, and I had sworn no one would ever be better-looking than that. I was wrong. Enter Brooks. His smile was so broad it made little creases in his cheeks. It crinkled the corners of his eyes. It made his jaw more chiseled.
Okay. And then, you add in the fact that his arms werearound my waist, and I was a puddle of goo. In fact, I was very hopeful that Brooks wouldn’t release me, because I was pretty sure I’d collapse on the floor.
“I did it!” He announced. His face was very close to mine. So much so that I was eye level with his mouth.
“Y-you did what?” I should have known. It wasn’t rocket science that Brooks had been waiting to hear from Coach about tryouts.
“I made the team. Varsity. I’ll be the starting catcher.” I think he grinned even wider.
I had never seen Brooks this happy. This excited. This carefree and unworried about what everyone was thinking.
Plus, he still held me around my waist, and I was so close that I had to put my hands on his chest to help me balance.
Be. Still. My. Pounding. Heart.
Chill, Walters, be chill.I summoned my inner Lizzie Bennett. She wouldn’t faint or get all googly-eyed in this moment. Instead, she would have something snarky to say, or something smart and sophisticated. So I tried. I really did. I tried to be like Lizzie. (Maybe I should make that my personal hashtag. #BeLikeLizzie.
“I would congratulate you, but I fear it would only increase your already considerable vanity. So instead I shall simply say: ‘Well done.’”
Brooks drew back a bit, blinking in confusion.
Too much? Yeah. That was way too much Lizzie Bennett. Flushing with embarrassment, I resorted to trying the buddy-factor. I slapped his chest with my hand like a pal and said, “Never mind, dude—good job!”
Brooks’s smile had faded, but now it crooked in the corner. He glanced around quickly at the growing circle of onlookers and very active phone cameras. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I’m a little freaked out at the moment,” I squeak-whispered—if that was a thing.
“Me too!” He smiled again and then did the unthinkable. He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear.
