Read Flirting With Maybe Online

Authors: Wendy Higgins

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Family, #Multigenerational, #Love & Romance, #Social Issues, #General

Flirting With Maybe (3 page)

BOOK: Flirting With Maybe
2.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

She’d call him, crying, when her stepdad, Ron, made dick comments. She’d talk about the drama among her friends. They’d talk about baseball, her being an Orioles fan and him a Braves guy. He ragged on the O’s mercilessly, because they sucked, but she took it like a champ. And he had to admit, it was a total turn-on when she recited batting stats.

He knew Brooke only thought of him as a friend, but that didn’t stop him from wishing and flirting every time he worked up the nerve. She always laughed it off like he was joking.

But he wasn’t joking. And he couldn’t help but hope.

CHAPTER THREE

O
n a Friday in April, Brooke called Ryan after practice.

“Hey! Can you come over for a minute? I want to show you something.”

She sounded excited, piquing Ryan’s curiosity. “Yeah, sure.”

Ryan took a speed shower and was in his car ten minutes later. He was surprised to see Brooke’s friend Jackie’s car and two others parked outside Brooke’s house. Her mom’s car wasn’t there; she must have still been at work. Brooke let him in and led him to her bedroom in the basement. He’d never been down there before. They’d hung out only in her living room and kitchen because her parents had strict rules about boys.

Ryan felt light-headed when he entered Brooke’s room and was surrounded by the overpowering scent of her. His head swirled with vanilla cookies. He wet his lips and swallowed, leaning against the wall as casually as he could manage.

He was the only guy down there, but Brooke’s girlfriends all greeted him and seemed to think nothing of it. Brooke’s Orioles and boy band posters were plastered around the room. Her taste in music and teams were equally atrocious. Brooke’s friends spread themselves across her bed on their stomachs, and they hushed when she went to her dresser and pulled out a piece of paper, wearing a mischievous smile.

“I wanted all my best friends together ’cause I have something to show you. . . . I got accepted to UNC!” She thrust the acceptance letter forward and everyone screamed, jumping up, bouncing around the room, and hugging her. Ryan’s stomach dropped. He was flooded with a strange sense of fear and sadness at the thought of Brooke being gone within a matter of months. So far away.

But when she turned to him, beaming, he forced a smile and said, “That’s awesome.” She hugged him, squeezing his neck tight, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist, he saw her friends exchange glances. They knew how he felt about her, but he didn’t care.

Ryan caught sight of movement at the door when Brooke’s parents came down, still dressed nice from work.

“You’re home!” Brooke bounced on her toes.

“Hello, girls,” Brooke’s mother said. “Oh, and Ryan. What’s everyone so excited about?” Brooke handed her the letter. She read it over and then broke into a smile.

“Brooke, this is wonderful! Congratulations!”

Ron took the letter and read it as Brooke’s mother gave her a hug.

“Have you heard from any of the other schools?” Ron asked.

Brooke stiffened as she pulled from her mom’s embrace. “Um . . . I didn’t apply to any other schools,” she said in a small voice.

The room went silent.

“Oh, honey . . .” Her mother’s posture sank.

“Mom, you know this is my dream,” she pleaded.

Her mom looked away and closed her eyes, as if bracing herself.

“There are perfectly good schools here in Virginia,” Ron said. His voice grew louder as he spoke. “Out-of-state tuition is outrageous.”

“I’m applying for student loans,” Brooke said.

“That’s not the point! We’ll still have to drive you, and there are other expenses to consider. You’re being selfish, Brooke, and you know what? I can’t say I’m surprised.” He covered his eyes with the palms of his hands and scrubbed his face, mumbling under his breath, “Just like her damned father.”

“Ron!” her mother hissed as her eyes skittered across all the people in the room.

The blood drained from Brooke’s pink cheeks, leaving her ghostly pale. It was the first time Ryan had witnessed one of Ron’s cutting comments. He’d sometimes wondered if Brooke was overreacting or being too sensitive when she talked about her stepdad. Now he knew she wasn’t.

“I think it’s time for everyone to leave,” Ron said, then turned and stalked from the room. Brooke’s mom gave her a sad glance before following him.

Ryan watched Brooke, expecting her to cry, but she didn’t. She stood rubbing her arms, eyes zoning out like she was in some self-preservation mode. He looked at Jackie, who stood with a hand covering her mouth.

“Go ahead, you guys. I’ll be okay,” Brooke said. The girls left the basement quietly, squeezing Brooke’s arm as they passed, but Ryan didn’t move. He took her hand and she looked up at him with glazed eyes.

“You did it, Brooke.”

She watched him blankly, and he put both hands on her shoulders, squeezing until her eyes cleared and she
really
looked at him. Then he said the words that pained him.

“You got in, and now you can get far away from here.”

CHAPTER FOUR

T
he following Monday, Brooke approached Ryan in the parking lot after school.

Ryan wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way she’d stopped asking for rides and it was assumed he’d take her home every day.

“Hey,” she said. “I don’t need a ride today.”

“You going with Jackie?” he asked.

“Um, no. Actually, Steve is taking me today.”

It took a moment for Ryan to regain his center of gravity enough to nod. Brooke reached up and gave him a quick hug before running over to Steve’s blue truck. Steve waved at Ryan and Ryan waved back, but he suddenly felt like the kid everyone called him. Steve had three inches and fifteen pounds on Ryan, and he probably had to shave every day. When Steve’s truck engine roared to life, Ryan became very aware of his rundown toy box in comparison with the new 4x4.

With every minute he’d spent with Brooke, he’d let his hopes rise. When he made her laugh, he sometimes forgot they weren’t equals. There were times he thought he stood a fighting chance at her heart. But as reality set in, so did a sour, churning pit inside him. How could he have ever thought Brooke would look at him and see something other than what he was? A kid in love with a girl way out of his league.

 

Steve drove Brooke home every day that week. On Friday, Ryan saw Steve kiss her against his truck before opening the passenger door for her. Ryan’s breath was shallow as he climbed in his car and slammed the door. He peeled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires, a feat of which he hadn’t even known the toy box was capable. He didn’t look back, afraid the burn in his eyes would turn to actual tears, which he’d never live down.

At home, Ryan’s mom studied his face when he walked in.

“Bad day at school, kiddo?”

“Please, Mom. Don’t call me that.”

He all but stomped to his room, but she was right behind him up the stairs, standing in the doorway while he threw himself on the bed.

“Can I make you a snack?”

“No,” he snapped. When she put a hand on her hip, he amended his response. “No, thank you.”

She left him alone for an hour, then brought in a glass of water. She sat on the end of the bed, and he pulled his knees up.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

He wrestled with whether or not to say anything, but decided to open his mouth.

“You know Brooke? The team manager?”

His mom nodded. “She’s a sweet girl. She always comes and talks to me in the stands. And I know the two of you spend a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, well . . .” He cleared his throat. “I guess she’s Steve’s girlfriend now.”

His mom bit her lip and nodded. “Does she know how you feel?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious. Everyone knows.”

“But have you actually said the words?”

Frustration flared in his chest. “What’s the point, Mom? She’s a senior. She treats me like I’m her little brother or something.”

His mom readjusted her hip to scoot closer to him on the bed.

“Ryan, listen. In a couple years when you’re both out of high school, the age difference won’t even matter, trust me.”

“I don’t want to wait a couple years!”

His mom spoke so calmly that it drove him mad. “Honey, I remember what it felt like to be a teenager. It felt like school was the whole world, and there was nothing beyond that, but it’s not true. You’ve got a big, incredible life waiting for you. And the right girl is out there.”

“I don’t want any other girl.” His mom wasn’t understanding. She couldn’t fathom how Brooke had filled up his whole heart and left no room for the possibility of anyone else.

Ryan couldn’t stand the look of pity his mom gave him, so he turned his face away from her. A few minutes passed in silence before she patted his arm and Ryan heard her footsteps on the carpet as she left the room. He swiped a few hot tears from his cheeks, hating himself for crying like the little kid he was.

 

Over the next two weeks, Ryan avoided Brooke at school and went home immediately after his games. He heard her calling his name after one game, but he wasn’t ready to talk yet. He didn’t want her pity, and he didn’t want to have to look at the lips that were kissing Steve every day. With sure, deliberate movements Ryan got in his car and drove away, ignoring the sight of Brooke jogging after him in the rearview mirror. He kept driving, though it felt like a load of bricks had been dumped on his chest.

At school the next day, they made eye contact from down the hall, and he ducked into the men’s room. Thirty seconds later he heard the door open and a pair of heeled shoes clicked in. He was leaning against the sink and felt his eyes pop wide when Brooke walked around the corner. Only Brooke Bennett would walk into the boy’s bathroom. It almost made him grin, but the pain inside him shot down that reaction.

A freshman boy walked in after her, ogled the two of them, and then spun back around and left.

“Why are you avoiding me?” she asked with a hand on her hip.

Couldn’t she see? Ryan was sick of being the nice guy. Guys like J.J. could be assholes and everyone still loved them. Ryan tried to do everything right, but it didn’t get him crap.

“I wouldn’t want to piss off Steve by hanging out with you.”

“Steve doesn’t care! He knows we’re friends.”

Friends. Ryan knew his face was hard when he looked at her.

“You have enough
friends
, Brooke. You don’t need some tenth-grade guy. I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I’m pathetic because of you. Go talk to Jackie if you need a friend.”

He thought it would feel good to say it, but he only felt gutted. Her eyes watered and he wanted to take it all back.

“That’s just great, Ry. Thanks a lot.” Her voice sounded choked, and she turned and walked out.

 

Before practice, Ryan was in the dugout, leaning his forehead against the chain-link barrier and staring out at the field. He heard J.J. and Steve talking in the corner.

“You and Brooke getting a hotel room for prom?” J.J. asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Steve said. “Her mom’s making her be home by twelve thirty. She even tried to say she was staying with Jackie, but they weren’t buying it.”

“That sucks. Guess you won’t be gettin’ any.”

Ryan bristled and looked over at them against his better judgment. Steve didn’t respond, just shrugged. He methodically pulled on his batting gloves as J.J. analyzed him with his eyes.

“Unless . . . you already did,
didn’t you?
” J.J. threw his head back and hooted and clapped his hands. Some of the other guys started coming over to see what was going on.

“Naw, come on, keep it down,” Steve told him.

But J.J. kept on, a lascivious grin stretching across his face. “What’d you have to do to hit that, man?”

“Dude. Fuck off.” Steve tried to walk away, but guys were packed around him.

“What’s going on?” someone asked.

“Steve got laid.” J.J. said this last sentence with an indecent move of his hips, and some of the guys started laughing and smacking Steve on the back. Ryan tasted bile, but he couldn’t move and he couldn’t look away. Steve brushed them all off, a hard look on his face.

“How was it?” J.J. asked.

“We’re not having this conversation.” Steve’s voice took an edgy tone, which only fueled that bastard J.J.

“That bad, huh? What’d she do? Just lay there?”

For a second Steve had rage in his eyes and Ryan hoped someone would beat J.J.’s ass once and for all, but Steve was too levelheaded for that. Instead, he pointed a finger in J.J.’s face and spoke through gritted teeth. “Shut up, man. It’s not like that.”

Ryan couldn’t feel his legs as he walked away from the group. He had tunnel vision as he turned the corner behind the dugout, picked up a stray ball, and threw it as hard as he could. With a bang, he dented the door to the concession stand.

Steve came around the corner, his jaw clamped tight. When he saw Ryan, his eyes softened. “Sorry,” Steve said.

“For what?” Ryan shrugged and stood frozen in defiance of the sickening emotions crashing through him. “Let’s just play ball.”

CHAPTER FIVE

T
he next day, Ryan found Brooke leaning against his car after school. He saw her red eyes a second before she turned away from him. He rushed the last few feet until he was at her side, dropping his backpack to the pavement.

“What happened?”

“Me and Steve broke up.” She sniffled, and conflicting feelings burned inside Ryan—happiness that she was single and sadness to see her hurting. “Do you think you’re
allowed
to be my friend now?”

Without a word, Ryan opened the passenger door and she climbed in. She stared silently out the window the whole drive home until he pulled up in front of her house.

“Why’d you break up?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Her tone was laden with sarcasm. “I guess it hasn’t leaked down to the underclassmen yet, but it will. Steve told a bunch of the baseball guys we had sex.” She blinked hard and tears fell.

BOOK: Flirting With Maybe
2.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Two Masters for Alex by Claire Thompson
Sleeping Beauty by Dallas Schulze
My Favorite Mistake by Elizabeth Carlos
You Are Here by S. M. Lumetta
Broken Heart 10 Some Lycan Hot by Michele Bardsley
Wiseguys In Love by C. Clark Criscuolo