Crash Into Me | ✓

eight

As wind tore through all the openness of Brooklyn's Mustang, I found it increasingly difficult not to stare at him as he drove us through the tiny center of town, to the bridge that took us through the shallow marshes and off the island. His thumbs drummed against the steering wheel, in sync perfectly with every beat, and he knew every word to every song that came on, silently mouthing along. I found myself counting the freckles that trailed down the side of his cheek, creating made up constellations on his face.

The Thank you for visiting Devil's Point sign passed by us in a flash of faded white wood and gold letters, and he cranked the volume to counteract the wind as 1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins began to play. 

"Damn I love this song," I said softly to myself with a little smile, but somehow he heard me.

"A girl with good music taste? I think I'm in love."

My insides fluttered like I'd swallowed 1000 butterflies, and I had to force myself to look away from him and his perfect sunshine of a smile.

"So you're not from around here then," I had to practically shout over the wind and the fuzzy audio of crooning through the speakers.

"Nah, I live on Crane Island," Brooklyn shook his head. "It's the next little island over, but it's all the same around here. All the kids in the county go to their local elementary schools and junior high schools, but afterwards everyone goes to Mainland Regional High School...unless you're good at sports or you have money, then you go to Montgomery Prep."

He switched the song on the dashboard display, which even after only being in a car with him for a total of 15 minutes I learned was his way of fidgeting without seeming nervous. He skimmed through Smashing Pumpkins to Third Eye Blind to Neck deep, and I swear even his music taste flipped my insides.

"Is that where you went?" I pulled at a frayed string in one of the holes in my jeans, trying to taper myself from sounding too overeager.

Brooklyn nodded. "You see, normal private schools have no jurisdiction on what part of the state you live in, so as long as you're willing to make the trip and pay the tuition, you can attend. Montgomery takes it one step further and flat out recruits kids from all over the place and hands out scholarships like free movie theater tickets - but it's not academic scholarships. You go to Montgomery if you're a standout athlete and you want to be seen and noticed by colleges other than just South Carolina State."

My eyes trailed over to the stitching on the arm of his hoodie. Keller, #65. 

"And you were a standout athlete, huh?" I asked.

He exhaled sharply. "Football. Best tight end in the state." He gave me a playful smirk. "I'm a little insulted. I know I got a little chunky in rehab, but do I really look that out of shape?"

"What?" Foot meet mouth. Again. "N-no, I mean, that's not what I..." I sighed and steadied myself before I talked myself into a hole. "You just don't seem like the jock type. I think of the football players I went to high school with, and they were just the stereotypical asshole jock. You know, the ones that shove kids into lockers, and pick on nerdy girls with glasses. You're just..."

Funny. Sweet. Handsome. Things I didn't dare say out loud after only hanging out with him once.

"You just don't seem like that kind of person," I finished with a sigh.

Brooklyn clicked his tongue. "I had the opposite problem," he said. "I wanted to be everyone's friend. I wanted everybody to like me. I couldn't ever say no to anyone or anything. By the time I got to college I was under so much pressure that eventually it just ate me up, and I couldn't handle it. I was partying all the time, and I never went to class. I was smoking pot, drinking until I got sick, and taking as much aderall and Xanax as I could get my hands on. I was totally out of control."