She looked back at the house and sighed. Was she wondering what her boyfriend was doing, who he was with? Did she know that the Woodses hosted big holiday feasts and that Austin would be busy? He wished she would break up with him. Bowie wanted a chance with her, and as bad as it sounded, he knew he was better for her than Austin was.
“You can bring your family. We have enough for everyone,” Bowie said. He wanted her at his grandparents’ house with him. He wanted to hear her laugh at his dad’s dumb jokes.
Brooklyn stared at Bowie. “Why are you so nice to me?”
He shrugged. The answer was on the tip of his tongue. He could tell her right now it was because he was in love with her, but he could never say that aloud. “Because you’re a cool chick,” he said, instantly regretting his words. “What I mean is, you’re fun to hang out with.”
“But Austin’s in there.” She pointed toward the house. “Monroe, Mila, Grady, and Graham are all in the house with him. And you’re always with me. Does he send you out to babysit or something?”
Bowie felt his stomach drop. He thought about storming into the house and punching his friend for putting these thoughts into her head, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Austin would just charm his way out of the situation and make Bowie look like a fool.
“I’m not much of a partier,” he told her. “I come because it’s what we do.”
“I come because I’m afraid he will cheat on me if I don’t.”
Bowie shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”
She peered sharply at him, her eyebrow raised. “How could you be so sure?”
“Just something I know, is all.” Bowie sighed. He wanted to move closer to her, press his thigh against her. He desperately wanted to know what her skin felt like. Instead he stayed where he was, with one arm draped over the back of the swing and his hand holding the can of beer to his leg.
“You probably wonder why I stay with him or why I let him act this way. Sometimes I ask myself the same questions or imagine if I hadn’t met him on my first day what I would be doing now. Maybe I’d be inside dancing with some other guy, or at home studying. But when I think like that, my heart hurts. It hurts so bad that I want to cry. I’m in love with that stupid boy in there, and he has no idea how much. Sometimes, I feel like he tells me he loves me because it’s the safest thing to say. I just want him to see me.”
In that moment, Austin stepped out onto the back steps. His eyes roamed the yard until they landed on Brooklyn. At the same time, a smile broke out on both of their faces. She got up, without saying goodbye to Bowie, and made her way to Austin. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, Austin pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. The couple walked back into the party, leaving Bowie alone.
“I see you, Brooklyn,” he mumbled into the darkness.
EIGHT
As far as standoffs went, the one happening between Brooklyn and Bowie could go down in history. Neither was willing to move, to even budge, and the only things lacking were witnesses, who had both deserted and sought cover inside the home. If Brooklyn hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought this was a setup, a ploy to get two former friends back together. But Carly had no idea what she was doing, what kind of hell she was creating for Brooklyn. To someone like Carly, this was as innocent as donating money to a homeless person.
Brooklyn wished she hadn’t taken off her sunglasses. Behind their darkened lenses she could hide, she could remain mysterious, but something had compelled her to remove them. She wanted—no, she needed—to see those radiant blue eyes of Bowie’s that she remembered. Only, they held no life, no expression. They were icy, harsh, angry, and pinned on hers.
Over the years, she had dealt with confrontation of all kinds. Homeowners who were upset with her work or who changed their minds hours before the job would be complete. Contractors who added unnecessary beams or walls that would change her design completely. There were the men who wanted more from her even though she was clear from the beginning—she was married to her job. Brooklyn could handle her own quite easily; she had learned from the best. And until now, she’d thought she had seen it all. But the anger in Bowie’s eyes, coupled with confusion, was uncharted territory for her. Her eyes diverted, and she stepped back. Bowie was close. Far too close for a friendly game of “nice to see you again.” As much as she’d tried to forget, images of the last time she’d seen him replayed in her mind. His outstretched hand, the words he said to her—all came flooding back. She felt sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t be here. She should’ve told Carly no, but deep down she felt like she owed the woman.