“Hey, George.” Brooke buttoned up her coat and popped the collar. “I hope you stay warm tonight.” She shoved his hands into her coat too.
George held up his gloved hands. “My wife bought me these new gloves. They’re keeping me extra toasty this evening. Where are you two headed?”
“To a concert,” Brooke shuffled back and forth to stay warm, “at the Chicago Theater.”
“Don’t let me keep you fromhanging out.” George found Logan’s gaze and rolled his eyes. “Have a nice time.”
Dumbfounded, Logan left George at his post and followed Brooke toward the entrance of the L train. They climbed on when it arrived. Being the evening commute time, the train was crowded. They had to stand, but Logan didn’t mind. It allowed him to be extra close to Brooke without crossing any boundaries. Brooke held onto a bar while Logan nabbed a free overhead strap. His lungs filled with her intoxicating scent and pushed away the weird smells of the other passengers.
“Tell me about this band. I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much about them.”
Brooke’s eyes sparkled. “Then you’re in for a treat. The first time I heard them was in a small club in NYC. A bunch of my college roommates and I went on a road trip during fall break my junior year. My friends and I stumbled upon the band one evening, and I loved them. Since then, I’ve been a fan, and they’ve grown super popular. Instead of basement clubs, they’re selling out huge concert halls.”
He loved the way she lit up talking about them. The L train slowed to a stop. Passengers squeezed on by to get off and more came on, making him inch even closer.
“Why do you like their music so much?” he asked. “Is it the genre?”
“It might be,” she paused. Her eyes scrunched up around the edges. “But I think I love the band because I listened to them during some of the darker and harder times in my life. I left home at eighteen. I was glad to be out of there, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t lost and lonely. Luckily, I became close with my college roommates. The music resonated with me, and it felt like the songs were written only for me. I think that’s what good music can do for a person.”
She looked so beautiful when she spoke. He stared at her for a moment, before remembering it was his turn to share. “I agree. Music can truly transform you to a different time and place.”
Brooke nodded. The stuffy air of the train made him unzip his jacket.
“Did you ever go home while you were in college?” Logan asked.
“No.” Brooke met his gaze. “I never went back. Then I heard through the grapevine that my mom moved without telling me and changed her number. Or more likely she didn’t pay the phone bill and her cell phone was disconnected. I didn’t know it at the time, but when I left I would never see her again. She died half a decade ago, overdose. I only know about it because I ran into a person I knew from high school in the city. They thought I already knew.” She blinked a few times like she needed to fight the moisture gathering in the corner of her eyes. “I don’t like talking about it. It hurts too much.” A few tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” Without thinking, Logan brushed them away with his forefinger but let his hand linger as it cupped her neck. “I think you are so brave. You might even be one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”
Brooke scoffed. “I highly doubt that.” Her voice cracked a tad.
“It’s true.” He forced himself to drop his hand and widen the gap between them. “But, enough about that. I want you to tell me more about this band.”
“Anyways,” she cleared her throat, “I think you’ll recognize a few of their hit songs. They play regularly on the radio.”
“I can’t wait,” he smiled.
Brooke tightened her grip on the bar. “Me either.” She smiled then shifted to let someone push through and around them.
They rode the rest of the way to the Chicago theater. Unfortunately, with the crowds it took them longer than expected to get across town. By the time they arrived, they had missed their dinner reservation.
“What do we do now?” Brooke gnawed on her bottom lip. “I know you have to be starving. You came straight from work.”
“How do you feel about taco trucks?” He rubbed the length of his jaw.
“Sounds good to me.” Brooke tucked some loosened strands of hair behind her ear. “I love tacos. They’re my favorite food.”
“Come on.” He held out his elbow for her. Brooke wrapped her hands around the crook of it and huddled in closer to him to stay warm. Her closeness made his stomach swim. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. But then like a pesky rat, Shelby popped back into his mind. He nudged his shoulder in the direction they needed to head. “I remember the street up here is usually lined with food trucks on the night of concerts.”
They walked up a block and around the corner. Sure enough, they found the row of food trucks tucked into various spaces along the curb. The tantalizing aroma made his mouth water. A small line formed behind one of the taco trucks, and they joined the end of it figuring it must be the best one, due to the crowd. Soon, they ordered and received their food. With no tables or chairs to be found, they decided to lean up against a building and eat their food standing up.
For a few minutes they happily ate, and then Brooke wiped her face with a napkin and asked, “Have you seen Shelby again?” The question caught him off guard, and he nearly choked on his bite of taco. He coughed then pounded his fist against his chest. Brooke raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
Logan crouched down and picked up his soda by his feet, taking a long swig. “My food went down the wrong pipe.” Withhis throat clear, he set the soda back down and stood again. “No, I haven’t seen Shelby.”
“Why not?” Brooke took another bite of her taco. “You’re telling me you haven’t wanted to text her?”
“I didn’t say that.” He attempted to eat another bite of his taco. “I want to text her, but I haven’t figured out how to go about doing it.”
