Look Both Ways (20 page)

“Brooklyn,” she whispers, and when she rolls over to face me, her pupils are so huge, they’ve swallowed all the blue in her eyes. She weaves her fingers through my hair at the base of my neck, and when she moves a little closer, I don’t pull away.

“Can I?” she whispers against my mouth.

I answer by moving forward that last inch and closing the gap between us.

It’s weird how you can spend countless hours remembering the feel of someone’s lips and still be totally unprepared for the exquisite reality of them. Zoe’s mouth is warm and lazy and sweet against mine, not urgent or aggressive at all, like it was during Never Have I Ever. This time it feels totally genuine, like she wants to take her time and drink me in. I expect kissing her to be different from kissing a boy, but it’s really not, except that her face is smaller and smoother and fits in my cupped hand. Her cheeks are flushed, and my whole body heats up as I think,
I did this to you.

She catches my bottom lip between hers and playfully bites me, and I gasp, which makes us both start laughing. Our mouths don’t fit together when we’re smiling, so we pull back a fraction of an inch and stare at each other, the kind of look I’ve been giving her for weeks when I thought she wasn’t paying attention. This time, she looks back.

“Finally,” she whispers, and my heart supernovas.

All we do is kiss. In the world of theater people, that barely even counts. But the next morning, I slip out of bed and walk to Kayla’s Cakes, where I buy a single doughnut. I leave it on Zoe’s desk while she sleeps in a tangle of sheets and silky hair and unfastened clothing. She’s so beautiful, I can barely stand to look at her.

She chose
me,
I think as I watch the rise and fall of her chest, and it’s more validating than any affirmation I could scream in front of the mirror.

I’m on my way over to the scene shop when my phone rings, and I smile when I see my mom’s picture on the screen—for once, I actually have good news to share. But I barely manage to get both syllables of “Hello?” out before she starts talking.

“Brookie! I’m so glad I caught you! Marisol had the babies!”

“Oh my God, when?”

“Last night around four. I wanted to call you then, but I figured I should let you sleep.”

Even though nobody can see me, I blush a little thinking about what I was doing at four in the morning. “She wasn’t due for another two weeks, right?” I say. “Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s perfect. The babies are just beautiful.”

“What are their names? She didn’t really name the boy Pierre, did she?”

“The girl is Jasmine, and the boy is Owen,” my mom says. “Christa talked her out of ‘Pierre’ at the last minute. Honestly, I thought it was kind of cute.”

“Are you at the hospital now?” I ask. “Can I talk to them?”

“Marisol’s sleeping, and Christa went to get coffee, but they said to tell you they love you and they can’t wait for you to meet the twins.”

“I can’t wait to meet them, either. I wish I could come home and see them right now.”

“I wish you could, too,” Mom says. “How’s everything going up there? You sound a little tired.”

I feel a goofy smile creep over my face. “Everything’s good,” I say. “Really, really good, actually. Pandemonium was last night.”

“Oh! I forgot that was coming up! Did you have a fantastic time? Do they still have the cage? Did you dance in it?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” I say, and my stomach does a flip as I think about pressing against Zoe behind those bars. “I only have a couple of minutes right now, so I’ll tell you everything later, but…um…I think you were right about Zoe and me.”

“I knew it!” my mom shrieks. “Brookie, that’s
wonderful.
”

I can’t remember the last time I had her wholehearted approval for something I legitimately accomplished, and it feels like sinking into a warm bath. “It kind of is, isn’t it?” I say. “I don’t think there’s anything superserious going on, because of Carlos and whatever, but she did say they have an open relationship, right? And I like her so much, and I think she really likes me.”

“I like her so much, too. Wait till I tell Dad! Or do you want to tell him yourself?”

“It’s okay, you can tell him.” I’m at the door of the scene shop now, and I see Russell approaching from across the lawn. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. My crew call is starting.”

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” my mom says. “You’ve always seemed so resistant to dating girls. Allerdale is really opening up your world, huh?”

“I guess. I’ll talk to you later, Mom. Give my love to everyone, okay? Tell Marisol and Christa I’ll call them soon.”

“I will. We love you back,” she says, and I hang up.

Russell catches up to me, looking bleary-eyed and rumpled. “It should be illegal to make us come to work this early after Pandemonium,” he says.

“Seriously. I hardly slept.” I feel wide awake, but I think I’m running on pure adrenaline.

“Did you know ducks sleep with half their brains at a time so they can always be on the lookout for predators?” Russell says. He rubs his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair, which makes it stick up in a million different directions. It doesn’t look like he washed it this morning.

“I did not know that about ducks, but it doesn’t surprise me that you do.” I reach up and pat him on the shoulder, and he gives me a weird look.

“What’s with you?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You look so…
happy.
Nobody’s happy at nine in the morning.”

Part of me wants to tell him what happened with Zoe—I think he’d be pleased for me—but another larger part loves having a secret with her. So I say, “I am happy. I have a new niece and nephew! They were born last night.”

“Oh, wow. Wait, both at once?”

“Twins,” I tell him. “Jasmine and Owen. So cool. Come on; let’s go inside.” I link my arm through his. He looks a little bewildered by my enthusiasm, but he lets me tug him toward the theater.

I spend the entire morning painting escape stairs black, but I barely register the work in front of me. All I can see are Zoe’s eyes inches from my face, Zoe’s tattooed back under my fingers, Zoe’s hair sprawled across my sheets. A couple of times, I find myself singing without even realizing I’m doing it. At lunch time, I dash over to Haydu, where Zoe’s in
Birdie
rehearsal, and peer through the window of the dance studio. It seems insane that we’re both spending our days doing normal things like painting and learning choreography when such a seismic shift has occurred between us. I should be using this time to get food, but instead I wait outside the door for half an hour in case Zoe’s choreographer gives them a break. I send the universe an image of us sneaking off into a stairwell and murmuring about how perfect last night was. But the girls are still dancing when it’s time for me to go back to work.

I spend the afternoon replaying our kisses in my head until the memories are almost worn through. When the shop head releases me that evening, I’m out the door before Russell can even ask if I want to go to Sammy’s. I haven’t eaten in the dining hall in a week and a half, but my excitement about seeing Zoe eclipses all my awkward feelings about facing the other apprentices. The room is packed, but it takes me all of six seconds to spot her; having a crush on someone gives you serious tracking radar. Her table is full of people from the
Birdie
cast, including Kenji and Todd and Livvy, but at least Jessa’s not here.

Everyone looks a little surprised to see me when I approach with my food, but Zoe shoots me a radiant smile and makes everyone scoot down so she can pull up a chair for me. Even though I’ve been thinking about her the entire day, I don’t know how to act now that she’s right here. Is she going to kiss me in front of all these people? I’m not even sure if I want her to or not. I’m relieved when she opts for a hug instead, but the way our breasts and hips and cheeks press together makes my face flame. I pull away much sooner than I want to.

“Thank you for the doughnut,” Zoe whispers into my ear. “You are the sweetest.”

“Of course,” I say, and then she sits down and picks up the thread of Kenji and Todd’s conversation right where she left off. I’m disappointed and relieved all at once.

I spend the whole meal trying to keep a normal, serene expression on my face while my knee presses against Zoe’s under the table. I barely understand the conversation, anyway; missing ten days’ worth of inside jokes at summer stock is like being off the grid for months back in the real world, and I know it’ll be nearly impossible for me to catch up. But maybe I don’t need anyone else, now that I have Zoe.

Time passes so slowly, I’m sure something’s wrong with the Earth’s rotation, but Livvy finally stands and gathers her trash, and everyone else follows. “My head still hurts from last night,” she says. “I’m going to go lie flat on my back and watch
30 Rock.
Anyone want to join me?” She eyes me sideways, clearly torn between politeness and a strong desire not to invite me up to her room. In the end, her loyalty is to Jessa.

“We’ll come,” Kenji says.

For a second I’m afraid Zoe’s about to say she wants to watch, too, but instead she says, “I’m actually gonna go to the practice rooms for a little while.” She turns to me. “Do you have time to play for me? You don’t have to, but—”

“Of course,” I say before she’s even done. “I mean, yeah, sure, I’m not doing anything.” Going to the practice room is a brilliant strategy—if anyone caught us on the way back to our room, they’d try to talk Zoe into joining the group, and then we’d be stuck in we’re-just-friends limbo for the rest of the evening. But no actor at Allerdale would ever try to talk someone out of rehearsing. This way, we can finally be alone.

Zoe and I practically run downstairs, and the second the practice room door shuts behind us, she has me pressed up against it. Her hands slip up the back of my shirt and then she’s kissing me, fast and eager, like she can’t get enough of me. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she murmurs against my mouth, and she doesn’t even give me time to respond before her lips are on mine again. I know I’m supposed to like this hungry urgency—I’ve been thinking about kissing her all day, too, and I love how totally focused on me she is. But this is way more intense than the slow, tentative way we touched last night, when everything was about closeness and warmth and the wonder of discovering each other for the first time. The way she’s kissing me now makes me feel totally out of control, like I’ve been thrown into the deep end of the pool after one swimming lesson.

I draw back a little. “Hey, slow down,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She giggles. “Sorry. I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this, and now that I can…” She trails off and shrugs, and the vulnerable way she’s biting her lip is so adorable that it makes me want to pull her close again.

“Why did you think that?” I ask. “I haven’t been able to get enough of you since the day we got here.”

“I thought maybe we were just going to be friends, though. It seemed like you were straight, and when I kissed you at the
Midsummer
party, you literally ran out of the room. I thought I’d ruined everything.”

I run my fingers through her hair. “I didn’t run because I didn’t like it,” I say. “I needed a minute to figure things out, you know? I didn’t know what it
meant.
”

“It meant I wanted to kiss you, silly. What else could it have meant?”

“I don’t know. We were playing a game. Maybe you were doing it for attention, or to get a reaction out of everyone, or to freak them out, or—”

“Brooklyn,”
she says. She touches my cheek, and I shut up. “You’re overthinking this, okay?”

“I’m just saying, I wasn’t sure—”

“Do you like it when I do this?” Zoe kisses me again, incredibly gently now. It’s barely more than a whisper against my lips.

“Yes,” I say.

“And this?” She pushes my hair aside and kisses my neck.

“Yes,” I whisper. And I do, I do like it. I always liked it when Jason used to kiss my neck, so why should this be any different? It feels overwhelming and unfamiliar with Zoe, but I probably just need time to get used to it.

“Then enjoy it,” she says. “Not everything has to mean something. We like each other. We like making out. That’s all that matters. Okay?”

“It’s more complicated than that, though, isn’t it?” I say. “You already have someone else, and—”

“I don’t want to think about him right now,” Zoe says. “I want to think about you.”

She leans back in and kisses me again, and I try to relax into it. But I keep thinking about the last time the two of us were in this practice room, after the
Midsummer
party, when she stared right into my eyes as she sang to me, and the tension between us pulled and stretched like taffy. There was something so exciting about that uncertainty, the not-knowing. Everything was full of possibility, and now that I know exactly what it’s like to be pressed up against her, all of that is gone.

What’s wrong with you?
I ask myself.
Why are you thinking about being six inches apart when you finally get to touch her?