Veronica and I coordinated our lunch breaks today so we're both in the back room noshing on sandwiches that we brought from home. She's up to speed on all the drama from Clay's party, so she's currently drilling me about my conversation with Brooks after he defended me from Jimmy.
"Hate to break it you, Rem, but I'm Team Brooks on this one. He had your back big time, and I'm going to be real with you, you were too hard on him."
"Veronica, I didn't want nor need his help. I could've decked Jimmy all on my own."
"It's not about you wanting or needing it, Rem. It's the fact that Brooks cared enough about you to give it to you. Jimmy and Brooks run in the same social circles, yet Brooks risked his reputation for you."
"Brooks might be popular and rich, but he doesn't care about things like that."
"You're not getting it, Rem. Or maybe you are, but you're denying it. Brooks clearly values you more than he does anyone at that party. In fact, I think you might be one of the very few people that he genuinely cares about."
I wipe my lips with the napkin and crumble up the aluminum foil into a ball now that I'm done eating.
"Veronica, you don't get it. Brooks and I don't get along. We don't like each other. It's not new news. It's how it's always been. So, you're wrong. You're very wrong when you say that I'm one of the very few people that he cares about."
"You have your opinion and I have mine," she says. "Either way, I still think you owe him a 'thank you' or some kind of acknowledgement."
I know that Veronica is right. I know that I've got to put my dignity aside. But I can't help it; I hate people seeing my vulnerability. It's something that I've always struggled with.
I guess it's time for that to change.
***
The day's almost over - the fitness center empty - when Brooks strolls in and heads for the treadmill.
He puts his AirPods in, and after about 30 minutes of running, he proceeds for the floor. I notice him reach into his duffle bag for a pair of black boxing hand wraps. He laps them over his hands and makes his way for the leather punching bag that hangs from the ceiling.
I watch him fall into a routine of jabs, crosses, and hooks, and I'm pretty captivated. He consumes the room right now.
I exhale and make my way in his direction, even though he's in the zone.
"Punch any harder and you're going to knock the bag off," I try and joke, but he doesn't budge. Doesn't even give me a smirk. I'm telling myself it's because he can't hear me with the music blasting in his ears, but let's be real, I'm standing right next to him, and he sees me. I think he's just avoiding me because of what happened at Clay's party.
"You know, I'm feeling nice today, so I'll let you stay past closing hours," I continue to tease, hoping that my continued effort will get him to crack a little.
But he doesn't. He just keeps hitting the bag.
And that's when I intervene, grabbing the bag with my hands so that he can't reach it.
"Brooks," I say.
He immediately removes one of the AirPods from his ear, giving me an angered look. "What the hell, Remi? You could've hurt yourself. I could've accidentally hit you."
"I've been trying to get your attention for the last few minutes," I tell him, and he looks at me, removing the other AirPod from his ear.
"What do you need?" he asks.
YOU ARE READING
Under the Stars (Sequel to Across the Pond)
Romance*The sequel to Across the Pond* Brooks Caldwell is the bane of my existence. Has been ever since I've known him. And, of course, luck would have it that I'm forced to spend my entire summer in his presence when I'm offered a job at the posh country...
