Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

6. Brooke

Chapter 6

Brooke

T he night dragged on with Liam’s presence lingering one wall over, quiet as an assassin. I prayed he couldn’t hear the clamorous drum of my heart as I struggled to fall asleep. I wished my nervous system knew I wasn’t being hunted for sport.

The only predator was my imagination. I doubted Liam cared enough to dedicate energy to add me to his hit list. While he had never shied away from an opportunity to mock or tease me when in the mood, he’d been too wrapped up in baseball and his social life to focus exclusively on crushing my spirit.

Sometimes, that made it worse. Pathetic as it was, I would have taken the teasing if it meant consistently getting his attention.

Restless, I flipped onto my side, tucking a pillow between my knees to get comfortable. It’d been several hours since he bulldozed my peace, and dammit, I didn’t even finish my chapter.

Leave it to Liam to interrupt mid-mount. I never learned the groundskeeper’s reaction to Penelope’s return to the estate. Their forbidden glances drove the suspense of the story! By the time I retreated to my room, I wasn’t in the mood.

The mood. Liam was an entire mood.

‘There are other locations ideal for mounting.’ What had he meant by that?

My skin prickled with agitation. What was he doing in his room? Sleeping. Of course. It was one a.m.

What did he sleep in? Surely not the flannel pajamas with woodland creatures that his mom had bought four Christmases ago.

Liam slept in gym shorts when we were kids, his skinny frame building into a muscular and athletic body as he trained more seriously for baseball. He was always pale, though. At least something about him was humbling, I guess.

He better not sleep naked.

And for the love of all that’s good, he better sleep alone. As much as I wanted to joke otherwise, Liam seemed like a man adept at getting women to cry out. The thought of these thin walls…

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks—boyfriend, I have one! Right. I could go to Sam’s place. I should be there more anyway if we were seriously considering moving in together, which we were. Considering it. Seriously. I think I was serious about it.

Minor incompatibilities aside, we got along well. Sam didn’t make me question my sanity! It wasn’t a heart-stopping, engrossing affection, but I wasn’t a heart-stopping, engrossing woman.

I sighed, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. The rain stopped, and with it, the clouds in the night sky parted. A sliver of moonlight broke through the crack in the curtains.

My fingers tapped impatiently as the shadows danced overhead. I couldn’t relax or shake the replays of everything I wished I’d said in that kitchen with Liam. My regret for being the same whiny, easy-to-offend girl who ignored and deflected, rather than one who stood tall and went toe-to-toe.

The girl who clamped up instead of unfurled to reveal the woman she wanted to be.

The good fortune of a loud and assertive best friend got me invitations to events with people like Liam when they otherwise didn’t want me around.

I squeezed my eyes closed, hoping that might cut off the memories fighting for recognition, the ones I tried to forget or ignore. I didn’t want to give in, but I was so damn tired of pretending those memories didn’t haunt me.

It wasn’t me in my bedroom tonight; it was the ghost of my fifteen-year-old self, begrudgingly sitting in a circle of horny teenagers spinning a bottle to determine pairings for seven minutes in heaven.

I sat across from Liam as someone handed him the bottle for his turn.

There were no objections from the girls in the group when he commanded the bottle. Ellery’s shoulder bumped mine as she adjusted to sit on her knees. Liam’s eyes flickered to the head cheerleader. Pretty, smart, confident, and the first girl our age to develop breasts.

Even in my new dress, the hem cut an inch or two shorter than usual, and having put effort into my curls and mascara on my lashes. And even with the stupid optimism in my heart that fifteen would be my year... Liam didn’t look at me.

I should have gotten up and left the circle. Putting myself out there only to be rejected or laughed at? To witness the disappointment on some guy’s face when he spun Brainy Brooke? The founder of the robotics club? Debate team captain?

Or, as Liam called me, High-and-Mighty Brooke.

Liam’s eyes scanned the circle, catching my gaze before glancing away. With a flick of his wrist, he spun.

So eager to get into that closet with Liam, Ellery was halfway off the floor before the bottle came to a complete stop. Her breathy huff broke the utter silence in the room when it settled—not on her, but on me.

My expression could only be described as abject horror. With a furious shake of my head, I sputtered, ‘No, wait, that’s ? —’

Shana shrugged. ‘Rules are rules, Brooke.’

Shoved into the dark, cramped space of that closet and my skin went itchy and tight. Maybe Liam, too, because he hovered against the back wall.

After three minutes—I know because I counted each miserable second in my head—he broke the suffocating silence with a bored exhale. ‘They’ll expect us to do something in this closet.’ His tone was bland, and his nonchalance grated on my nerves.

‘We are doing something.’ My voice was barely audible over the thundering of my heart. ‘Standing. Breathing. Existing.’

Slowly dying.

Another heavy sigh escaped Liam’s lips, another reminder that I wasn’t the girl he wanted in there. Another moment of wishing I could be that girl to someone when I’d never be the girl who caught Liam Porter’s eye.

‘Kissing,’ he said bluntly. ‘We’re supposed to be kissing.’

The lie slipped effortlessly from my lips. ‘I don’t want a pity kiss.’

But that was far from the truth, even if I’d never admit it—ever.

‘It’s just a kiss.’ He shifted impatiently from one foot to another.

But it was more than just a kiss to me. It was my first, and it was Liam—a boy whose very presence had the power to unsettle me. What if it was awful? What if I became the subject of his mockery—even more than I already was?

‘Well, maybe I don’t want to kiss you. Have you considered that? Not every girl wants you. Hard to believe, I’m sure.’ I crossed my arms guardedly and dug my fingers into the sleeves of my dress, pinching at the fabric.

Liam snickered. ‘Please, you want to kiss me.’

‘I don’t. Not even a little.’

He shifted again, his tone slightly agitated. ‘Of course you do. You’re playing it cool, but it’s obvious.’

‘I’m playing nothing. I don’t want to kiss you. I wouldn’t dream of it.’

I would, I did, and it embarrassed me to no end.

His hands splayed against the door on either side of my head, his breath fanning the crown of my hair. ‘You’re lying.’

‘I’m not,’ I whispered, licking my lips and hating how obvious it was that he was right. ‘I’d never kiss you, ever.’

‘Yeah? Then why are you breathing so hard? Why did you come in here in the first place?’ He leaned closer and spoke softly in my ear, so close his cheek brushed mine. ‘You know just as well as I do that you want to kiss me.’

‘Your bloviated speech is taking up all the oxygen in this closet.’ My fingers twisted harder into my dress, my chest heaving faster with his taunts.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through my entire body as he traced down my throat. ‘Your heart is beating fast. I can feel your pulse.’

I swallowed audibly, my cheeks on fire with embarrassment.

His hand curved around my hip. I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than having it on my neck. Both left my stomach flip-flopping. ‘Be honest, Brooke. Admit you want to kiss me. Why won’t you just say it?’

‘I don’t.’

Liam tilted his head and mocked, ‘Oh, am I not good enough?’

I thrust my finger into his chest, forcing him back. ‘You don’t want to kiss me! Why do you even care how I feel about it? You love your stupid games to make yourself feel like a winner.’

He pushed forward, smashing my hand between our pressed chests. I felt the hammering of his heartbeat through his shirt. ‘You think you know me so well, Brooke?’

His ragged breath made my head dizzy. Was he angry? Why?

‘I know you well enough.’ The words were hardly a whisper, my mouth impossibly dry with his unrelenting proximity.

‘And what if I told you that you don’t know shit? Hmm?’ He spoke softly, but that agitation buzzed beneath his words as he cupped my cheek. ‘What if I told you that you don’t know me at all? Maybe you’re wrong, and I do want to kiss you?’

The streak of light beneath the door cast shadows over his face, and his mouth curved upward in the start of a smile. I hated it when he mocked me like that.

‘You wouldn’t tell me that.’ I shook my head, my heart pounding faster with every inch of space he erased between us.

Cocking his head, Liam urged, ‘Say it.’

Seven minutes felt like a decade. He leaned close enough to scent the subtle woody notes of his body wash, to smell the mint of the gum he’d been chewing.

‘Say what?’ I whispered.

‘Say what you want, Brooke. I think I’d like to give it to you.’

My breath quickened. ‘You… do?’

‘Say it first.’ Liam’s voice was soft, coaxing. He moved another inch closer, his feet now resting outside of mine.

I regretted my weakness in moving closer to his mouth. Because he was right. I wanted to kiss him, and I was going to.

I wetted my lips and took a deep breath. ‘I want ? —’

The door swung open, flooding the closet with light. Liam and I squinted, blinking to gain our bearings. He hovered close enough to earn quiet murmurs from the living room and a few jeers.

‘Holy shit, look at that!’ Dylan, Liam’s friend, laughed. ‘He actually got her to do it!’

Miller, another of Liam’s friends, slapped Dylan’s shoulder. ‘Bang-Me-Brooke. If anyone could do it, it’d be Liam.’

A rumble of ‘oohs’ and ‘oh shits’ rang like a chorus of humiliation.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Liam barked.

I shoved him away, catching a flash of surprise on his face as he stumbled and tripped over a rogue shoe on the floor.

Of course he was surprised. He probably thought I would fall at his feet and thank him for going into a closet with me and allowing his friends to believe I messed around with him. As if he were doing me a favor.

‘You’re both alive,’ Shana said with wonderment, ignoring the taunts behind her. ‘No bloodshed?’

Liam rubbed the back of his neck and snickered. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? I thought she’d tear me apart.’ His eyes raked over me.

Laughter rang out. He was still the same cocky, blustering jerk. Thank god I didn’t kiss him—what he might have done or said after giving in…

I withered beneath the invasive stares. They were laughing at me.

My face burned crimson, but my anger flashed white-hot. ‘You’re an asshole who thinks he’s everything in this world, Liam, but you’re not.’

His jaw flexed, and his gaze lingered on me for a beat longer. ‘High-and-Mighty Brooke right out of the gate, huh? Couldn’t even give it a minute to simmer?’ He brushed by, knocking my shoulder in his escape.

‘Please, you’re just angry someone said no to you,’ I shot back.

He stiffened and, with a slow spin, was in my space again. Whatever anger seethed beneath the surface was gone, and a smirk curled over his lips. ‘Yeah? That’s it, huh? You weren’t about to say it?’

‘That’s it,’ I hissed.

He shook his head, his fiery gaze on me. ‘You lie. You know damn well what you were going to say.’

Everyone watched us, the heat of their interest burning marks into my skin. Never had I been more embarrassed in my entire life. For years, I craved his attention and interest, but this? It was brutally mortifying, and it was Liam’s fault.

I crossed my arms and refused to concede. ‘You’re wrong. There’s nothing you could do to get me to kiss you. Nothing, not tonight, and not ever.’ My eyes shuttered closed. A tingling swept up the back of my neck, and my skin flushed.

When I opened my eyes again, he was gone. All I saw was a dark bedroom.

Morning arrived, and Liam left the apartment before I woke. Perfect—no brawls for the bathroom or impatient knocks as I showered. I took my time getting ready, shaving and soaping, and… ignoring the foreign bottle resting on the shelf beside my products.

Body wash.

Liam’s body wash.

Fantastic—he bathed.

I frowned, studying the ornate container as I rinsed my hair. Glass? In the shower? A questionable choice.

It was pretty, though—a deep onyx with a silver scroll. I didn’t recognize the language on the label. Was that… French? Surely not.

It was.

It probably smelled terrible—cheap and generic, overpoweringly odorous. Like a frat house in a bottle.

Against my better judgment, I uncapped it and took a tentative sniff. Then another. Okay, a few more. The amber and musk balanced well with something citrusy—orange zest?

Liam practically bathed in body spray as soon as puberty hit, an artificial freshness to mask the gym socks and teenage angst. At least he’d grown out of that. His taste in body wash was… decent. Maybe even good. I should check again, just to be sure.

I poured a dollop into my palm, just to test the scent closer. Did Liam’s skin smell like this? All of it? Did he rub this all over himself?

“Nope.” I returned the bottle to the shelf, finishing my shower. I didn’t want to love that scent as much as I did.

I dressed and finished getting ready for the day, starting a pot of coffee as Shana rubbed her sleep-addled eyes and shuffled into the kitchen. “I hate Wednesdays.”

“Friday.”

“Those, too.” She flopped into a chair, her wild blonde hair threatening to stage a rebellion. “Liam up yet?”

“I think he made a tactical retreat.” I refrained from telling her I peeked into his room. He left his door cracked! Fair play.

She blinked, still half-asleep at the table. “That’s unusual. It’s not like him to flee the scene before nine. Guess I won’t see him today.”

Shana worked as a receptionist at a veterinary clinic during the day, but moonlighted at a club in Capitol Hill, shaking her dance belt and handing out Jell-O shots. The woman hustled.

“Okay, then.” She grabbed a pack of Pop-Tarts and headed back to her room. “I’m showering, and then I’m gonna pet a bunch of pussies.”

“Please stop with that.”

Shana told that joke every week. Every. Week. It was like Groundhog Day.

“Fine. Gotta clean up for them bitches.”

That one, too.

The unexpected knock on the door saved me before she got to the dead fish quips.

“That’s not for me.” Her echo faded as she disappeared into her bedroom.

I grumbled as I left the kitchen and muttered my way through the living room to answer the door. “Well, it’s definitely not for me.”

Shana was the social one. That made my not-so-spontaneous boyfriend’s appearance at the front door all the more surprising.

“Sam! I didn’t know you were going to stop by.” I held the door open to invite him in, but he shifted from one foot to the other.

Discomfort pinched in the tight line of his lips, and he pushed up his thick-framed glasses. “We need to talk.”

I croaked out a “Fabulous,” knowing what followed those words never ended well.