My Dirty Little Secret

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chelsea's POV

I showed up at Brooke's apartment about an hour after I hung up the phone. I didn't know what she wanted to "talk" about - or if she even wanted to talk at all - but I had the feeling that whatever she wanted, I'd always come running. Up until this point I'd been mentally putting her to the test, wondering where exactly the hole was in her seemingly perfect semblance. Women like Brooke had to be too good to be true. I didn't know why I needed to mess with things; I was happy, so why look for its downfall? But whatever test I was subconsciously devising, she'd passed it with flying colors.

Sure, there was the whole ex-girlfriend thing which had bothered me slightly, though I'd never tell. Of course I'd noticed that she'd been at the game with her, and of course I was threatened by Kate's undeniable beauty and the bounds of love I knew had Brooke held for her, platonic or otherwise, for quite some time. But as time wore on, there was something that seemed to make the insecurity subside: I realized I trusted Brooke, totally and completely, in everything, on everything, throughout anything.

She was sitting on her couch when I walked in, looking beautiful just in simple dark jeans and a white tank top. I couldn't even find a word for her in that moment. The word modelesque ran through my mind, as did picturesque, but not those, nor any of the other "esque"s that tried in vain to compare her to something worthy of the comparison, seemed to work. Nothing was worthy. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. And I no longer knew if I loved her because she was beautiful, or if she was beautiful because I loved her. 

"Hey," I said casually, the wind still in my hair, though I'd left it outside minutes ago. 

"Hi, love," she smiled, looking genuinely happy to see me. "You look cold."

I felt the red in my cheeks, almost like a a synaesthesia, but apparently it was visible to her as well. I nodded. "It's cold out there."

"Come here," she invited, and put her arms out. I walked into them easily, sitting down next to her and fitting comfortably into the crevaces of her body the way I started to think that maybe I could be the odd piece that somehow fit into her life. 

I looked up at her. Her face seemed to glow. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I love you," she said.

I laughed. "I love you too," I said. "But what did you want to talk about?"

"That's what," she said. "I wanted to talk about how I love you."

"You brought me all the way here just to tell me that?"

"Well, yeah," she said. "But more than that."

I just looked at her, waiting for her to go on.

"Chelsea," she started in a quiet, relaxed voice, like one you might hear tanning on your back at the beach. "When we first started this, I didn't know where it was going. I mean, I knew I was into you, and as time went on, I knew I was really into you...but I wasn't always sure that it would work out between us. I mean, I didn't even think we'd ever end up together. It was just too surreal. You were so perfect, and there was so much against us, and I know that's still true. But I guess what I'm trying to say is, as long as you're on board, I'm going to do anything in my power to be with you. You make me happier than I've been in a really long time, Chelsea, and I am absolutely in love with you. And I can't promise that it'll be easy for us. But I promise that I'm going to try, as hard as I can, to keep us together. It's more than 'I love you.' I need you. And I need you to know that. That's what I had to tell you."

I inhaled, rendered speechless by her words. I suppose I'd known how she felt about me in some capacity, but to know that Brooke Chandler cared that much about me was nothing short of a dream.

"Wow," I said quietly. "Brooke, I don't know what to say. Except that, I love you so much, and I want you to believe fully that you're all I want, and I will fight against anything to be with you."

She smiled. "That's enough."

"It doesn't even start to explain," I said. "But I'm as not good with words as I wish I was."

"Don't tell me that," she giggled. "I'm your English teacher, and I know you're lying."

"It's different," I said. "I can write an expository essay in ten minutes, but when words count, I can never find them."

"You always know the right thing to say, Chelsea. Don't you know that?"

"No," I said. "I don't." I knew I was falling back into the role of the jaded teenager who doesn't accept compliments nor help, but I couldn't change it.

"Do you remember the night when I drove you home from cheer? For the first time?" she prodded, trying to spark my memory. "Because your girlfriend wouldn't drive you home," she explained.

I nodded. Of course I remembered that. How could I forget? Her face under the moon's glow, her long, feminine fingers on the steering wheel, the gentle nervousness in her eyes, the earth shattering urge to kiss her.

"And that was when things were messy with Kate. And she kept calling me, and I was losing control on the situation, and I felt small, and vulnerable, and used, and manipulated, and low. And you knew. I don't know how, but you knew. And do you remember what you said to me?"

Again, I nodded. Of course I did. "I told you you're beautiful," I said.

She shook her head, smiling slightly as she looked down through her eyelashes. "I can't even begin to tell you how much that meant to me."

"I wasn't exactly lying," I said. "You are beautiful. You just needed to know it."

"But that was what I needed. You telling me that, changed my night. It changed my week. Chelsea, it changed my life. Because of you, I stopped feeling bad about Kate, and about myself. I've spent my life in relationships that broke me down, and all you do is build me up again. I don't even think I could begin to tell you how much you mean to me."

I heard her words, and I understood them completely, but there was absolutely no response that could do them justice. What she told me meant the world to me. The notion that I could have been any small catalyst in the life of the perfect girl, was transforming. Not knowing where else to go, what else to say, I did what I was wishing I'd done in her car that first night, and kissed the love of my life.

"I love you, Brooke Chandler," I told her.

She smiled at me, looking ethereally beautiful. "That's all I ever needed."