Brody rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re a dirty bird, fireball.” He leans over the center console and reaches behind my head, bringing his lips to mine. A gentle kiss for a sweet moment. I like the varying sides of Brody.
“I have to tend to the job you think I don’t have, and I’ll be there most of the night, but maybe we can have breakfast tomorrow morning?”
“I think I’m free,” I tell him.
“I’ll pick you up at nine,” he says.
“How about I pickyouup at nine?” I reply.
“No, I insist,” he says, keeping his polite smile intact.
“Okay, then.”
He doesn’t want me to come to his house. Is it just because of the so-called mess?
“Now, get out before I take you out and run you back upstairs for another round of mind-blowing, ‘Yeses.”
“With a threat like that, what’s a girl to do?” I ask, placing my hand on my cheek, faking a look of flattering shock.
Regardless of preferring to play into his threat, I step out of the truck and do my best to strut into my apartment, leaving him with the view of my behind to think about while he’s at work all day.
I spend the night alone, aside from the few text messages I receive from Brody. He asks me what I ate for lunch and dinner, staying on top of his medical support duties. Then, he sent me an inappropriate picture of himself alone in a warehouse full of barrels. I had to delete it in fear of anyone ever seeing my phone.
But with a rested mind, I slept well beneath the glistening stars shining in through my window.
I woke up earlier than planned, which meant I had time to beat Brody at the game he started, using the same methods of research he used. It turns out his brother and my sister are great at handing out answers to what they think are innocent questions. That’s what innocent people do, I guess. Another reason why Melody and Brett are perfect for each other.
I pull into Brody’s driveway, surprised to see such a nice house after the way he described his style of living. He’s in a newer development, which I guess Brett lives in too. It’s nice they live near each other since Hannah and Parker are so close, and they help each other out with carpools to school.
It’s eight-fifteen when I plop down on his front step with two coffees in hand. His truck is here, so I know he hasn’t left yet. I only end up waiting five minutes before the front door opens.
“Aw come on, why are you here?” he asks, opening the storm door.
“What a nice greeting when I’ve brought you coffee?” I say, standing up, getting ready to push him away from the entrance of his house.
“No, you can’t come in,” he says.
“Yes, I can,” I tell him.
“I said no,” he replies.
“This kind of ‘no’ can be ignored.” I play the words he used on me, right back at him.
“Journey, please, come on. You don’t want to come in here,” he continues. His words are forming into a whine, and it gives me more motivation to make my way in than I had when arriving.
“I sure do,” I say, pushing him to the side while handing him one coffee. His mudroom was fairly neat, so my curiosity was piqued, but as soon as I turned the corner, I was no longer wondering what he was hiding. “Well, I guess you weren’t lying.”
“This is embarrassing,” he says, following me as I walk through his house.
The sink is filled with dirty dishes, piles of laundry are stacked on the kitchen table, magazines and books are scattered across the living room with paper plates and plastic cups. I walk past the bathroom without glancing in because it’s not a sight I’m intrigued to see, but Hannah’s room wins the competition of the messiest area of the house. Brody’s room is surprisingly spotless, very masculine with dark gray walls and black furniture. His bed is made, laundry is in a hamper, his closet door is closed, and his furniture isn’t covered with a layer of dust. Sun beams in through his corner windows, offering light to the darkness of the space. His bedroom has a cozy feeling, unlike the rest of the house.
Could a tween girl truly be responsible for such a large mess across the rest of the house? I don’t remember being that bad at her age, but maybe I’ve forgotten.
“Happy now?” Brody asks.
“This looks like a lot of work to keep up with,” I say.
“I clean, and the mess is back within hours. She doesn’t care, and I’ve lost the energy to keep up. I know it’s not an excuse. I’m the parent, and blah, blah, blah, but I don’t have a ton of free time, despite what it might look like to you, so it’s hard deciding to spend my spare moments cleaning when I know the mess will be right back.”
