Crash Into Me | ✓

eighteen

Brooklyn slowed to a stop in front of my house, and Pink Floyd crooned faintly on the stereo in the background. It was quiet, but the most comfortable kind of quiet I'd ever felt. He just made everything so bearable and so calm, sometimes I had to second guess if he was even real, or if he was someone I just made up to quell the storms that followed me.

But when he reached out to put his hand on mine, he was warm, and he was real.

"Don't look so stressed," he said with a chuckle. "I think we had a good night."

"I'm sorry about Nikki," I grumbled. "I don't know what her problem was, but she had no right to act like that."

Brooklyn shrugged. "It's okay. It's not like I'm not used to that. The finger pointing, the accusations, it's pretty normal in my world."

"Yeah, well not in mine. You shouldn't have to keep going through that when you haven't done anything wrong."

Brooklyn rubbed at the back of his neck, keeping his eyes down towards the stereo. He hit the "next" button, and I couldn't help but notice his shaking hands. More Pink Floyd went on in our silence.

So you think you can tell heaven from hell? Blue sky from pain?

Brooklyn pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows, carefully mulling over his next words. "I don't know Nat..." Every time he looked like he was about to say something else, he pressed his lips together again.

"What Brooklyn?" I said with a playful shove to his arm. "Just say it."

He gave me that sideways, boyish grin of his, and the glow from the moon above us turned his eyes into little pools of light. "Well, there's a lot I want to say, but I'm still learning to catch my breath around you. Every time I look at you...you just take it away."

"Oh stop." I shook my head, but he kept grinning at me, and it was infectious. I grinned right back. "Really?"

I didn't realized how close we were until he reached up and caressed my cheek with his fingers. Every inch of skin that he touched sparked and tingled. "Yeah. Really."

I was burning up. My body physically ached for him, and judging by the way his fingers danced across my skin, gentle but almost sensual, I think he did too.

He pressed his thumb against my chin and tilted my head up to look up at him. His lips brushed against mine, so soft and subtle I had to second guess if it even happened.

My chest was on fire, but I craved the burn. I craved him. "Do you want to come inside for a little while?"

His eyes darkened, and I could feel a storm coming just by looking at him. "Yeah, I'd like that."

After fumbling through my purse for my house keys, I led him by the hand through the dark of the house, the floors and stairs creaking with each step we took.

When we entered my room, my face blanched in horror. I had forgotten how much of a mess it was, with both mine and Nikki's clothes in piles on the worn out plush carpet. Books were stacked against the wall beside my bed, and my desk looked like a hurricane had come through and upended all of my makeup, nail polish and picture frames. Moonlight danced through the open window, giving the room just enough light to see the shapes and shadows of the mess. I didn't dare turn the lights on.

Brooklyn weaved his way across the carpet, slowly slipping off his suit jacket and placing it delicately over The Chair. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, and I couldn't help but grin, seeing his large frame so out of place on my tiny bed, surrounded by purple fuzzy pillows and a paisley patterned comforter.