She didn't break up with him. I had a feeling she wouldn't, but I'm a little pissed off she told me she would when she had no intention of actually doing it.
"What'd you fight about?"
She sighs as she pulls out her book. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Did you decide to stay with him?" I ask in a casual tone, but I'm getting angrier by the second. Why would she stay with that asshole?
"Stay with who?"
"Your boyfriend."
"No," she says, shaking her head. "It's over. He didn't even call me last night. One of his friends posted a picture online showing him and Chad and some other guys at a restaurant, and guess who was there?"
"That girl?”
"Yep," she says, popping the p. "Tamara was sitting right next to Chad, wearing this low-cut shirt, her boobs hanging out. I almost threw up."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Call him tonight. I already texted him to set up a time."
"You have to make an appointment to talk to your boyfriend?'
She rolls her eyes. "I know, it's pathetic. I just want it to be over. I'm so tired of this."
"What time you think you'll talk to him?"
"Eight or nine. Why?"
I shrug. "Just wondering if you want to come over. Jacob's freaking out about this test on Wednesday. But you don't have to if you don't have time."
"I have time. Should I go there after school?"
If she does, I won't be there. I'll be at practice. I was hoping she'd come over later.
"Whatever works for you. Jake's home by three-thirty."
"Wait—you have football practice. When are you home?"
"Around five or five-thirty. Depends on if Coach wants to torture us."
"What if I come by around six? Does that work?"
"It does, but don't you want to come earlier?"
She opens her book. "I think six would be better. Text Jacob and let him know."
She wants me to be there. Is she thinking she'll stay after the tutoring? I hope so.
I look over at her in her preppy pink polo shirt and white denim jeans. She's the absolute last girl I ever would've imagined myself being with, and yet I can't stop imagining it. She could never be mine, so why do I keep doing this to myself?
The rest of the day I feel like I do when I'm about to step on the field before a game. That rush of excitement that makes your stomach feel off and your heart beat faster. Except it's not football making me feel that way. It's the anticipation of seeing Brook tonight. I hate that she's affecting me this way. But I also love it.
She shows up right at six, her hair down, wearing ripped jeans and a tight black tank covered by a long open sweater. She looks hot, and different than she did at school today in that preppy pink polo. That was more of sweet innocent look. This one is edgier, like she’s letting her bad girl side out. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it and she just wanted to change clothes.
”Hi Dean," she says, smiling as she goes past me. "Hey, Jake. You ready?"
He's sitting at the counter with his laptop. That stuff I said about him being nervous about Wednesday's test was a lie. He didn't actually say that, but I could tell he was nervous, or that's what I told myself. Either way, he was happy Brook was coming over. He likes having her around. She's the closest thing to a mom he's got, which is strange since she's only a couple years older than him, but she acts older than her age.
