Fatal wounds

7

Valentina

Brookes eyes are so wide as she gapes at my phone. More specifically, a picture of Brian. Her eyes trace every curl of his brown hair and follow the sharp line of his jaw. "...and he's British?"

"Yes." I grin nodding as her eyes have literal hearts in them.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus." She takes a big gulp of her cold water and sits back taking my phone with her. "Vale he isn't real." She shakes her head staring at the picture again in astonishment. "Seriously. The curly brown hair, the blue eyes, the accent. You're joking right?"

"Nope." I reply still grinning. Brooke's never met a man that has lived up to her many fictional crushes. "He's really real. I've met him and he requested your number."

"My number?" The phone falls onto her lap. "Give it to him! Wait! No don't. Wait, yes. No! Oh Jesus, I'm nervous."

"Nervous?" I laugh, "since when do you get nervous?" If one thing was for sure it's that Brooke doesn't do nervous. I've never as much as seen her stumble her words or blush in the presence of a man.

"Since I've seen him! No man looks like him. Maybe Henry Cavill but this man is real and he wants my number." She looks at the phone again, losing all of her breath again. She suddenly gasps looking at me with pleading eyes. "You've met him! You can ask him to go out for drinks and I'll go with."

"You want me to third wheel because you're nervous?" I state hesitantly. "That doesn't seem enjoyable."

"Tell him to invite his friend, the one you won't stop thinking about." She says the last part so absentmindedly that it makes me pause.

"Won't stop thinking about? What do you mean?" I've mentioned Theo like once. I do not think about him regularly. The one time I told Brooke about Theo I specifically made point to not mention his dark eyes that could pass for black if not looked at closely or the fact that his sweaters would always strain against his big muscly arms. I made point to especially not mention the way his stubble ran along his jaw but made no difference to how sharp his jaw line is. I didn't mention any of it, knowing she'd have something to say.

She laughs making my mind clear up from the Theo induced fog. "Thinking about him?" She teases bitting on her lip to contain her smile.

"I have no," I grab a near by pillow throwing it at her face. "Idea what you're talking about." She catches the pillow right before it hits her face and smirks.

"Whatever you say." She throws the pillow back, missing my face as it goes over my shoulder. "You're totally not fantasizing about him."

"I'm not!" My face flames when my words come out an octave higher, "I'm not thinking about Theo anything." I say trying to make my words come out normal and not high and pitchy, a clear indication that I'm lying.

Which I'm not, lying, obviously.

"Mhm." She hums, clearly unconvinced. "I believe you. Now please text him, I'm ready to meet my future husband."

I cross my arms over my chest and lean back onto the couch feeling an odd amount of nerves in my chest. "Why do I have to text him?"

Brooke gives me a look. "Really? And you say I'm the nervous one." She scoffs and throws my phone onto my lap.

I reluctantly grab the phone and type a message out with shaky fingers. I turn the phone over and show Brooke, she reaches over and presses the little blue arrow making my heart drop.