“Brooke's not my girlfriend,” I say, but it feels like she is. That same weird male possessive bullshit that I felt the other day comes raining over me like a tidal wave about to strike. “Basically, I'm dropping you guys off and Hubert and I,” I reach down to pat the cat's kennel between the two front seats, “are going back to the desert. I don't know if you know it, but I like, haven't worked in two weeks and I'm pretty much down to zero in the money department.”
“I know,” she says, turning towards me and reaching out a hand for my knee. Mercedes gives it a little squeeze. “And I'm so thankful, Zay. Really, I am.” Her eyes get all teary and I can't help but roll mine. Damn it. Such a sucker for pretty girls in distress. Like Brooke. I purse my lips and keep my eyes on the road. “It's nice to know there's somebody out there we can count on, you know?”
“Yup. Any time. Although hopefully not anytime soon because I'm dead broke.”
Mercedes laughs and then turns to look at Kinzie as the kid starts in on a tale of “dogging” between Dodger and the chihuahuas. Yet another highlight of the past two weeks.
But I find myself smiling anyway because even though I thought this whole thing was going to be miserable and even though at times, it was kind of miserable, it was also kind of awesome, too, in it's own way.
Or maybe that was just Brooke?
Mercedes and Kinzie cry when I get in my shitty old Geo to leave, while Rob glares at me. Again, I don't take it personally because I can see tears shimmering in his eyes as I pull out of the driveway and Hubert starts to yowl. Believe it or not, this is actually our second time trying to get the fuck out of here but the first time, the damn cat took a dump before I got halfway down the block. I had to turn around and clean his kennel out, bathe him, and put on a fresh sweater that says Total Feminist on the back of it.
I crank up my pop music as I hit the highway going south, my heart thundering a million miles an hour in my chest as I start to put distance between Brooke and me, between her awesome girls and me, between a possibility of something I've never even glimpsed in my entire life and me.
“Shit, no way. No, no, no, Zayden,” I growl as I shove hair off my forehead and try to keep my attention focused out the windshield. No matter how hard I try though, I seriously cannot stop thinking about Brooke.
I start laying my reasons for leaving out again in my head. No money, no job, my condo, my friends, my lifestyle, Brooke's age, her inexperience, the two kids that she has.
And then I start feeling like, um, I'm a goddamn fucking mental patient.
A hot young girl who's smart as shit, who's trying her goddamn hardest to make a shitty situation work, basically told me she has a thing for me, a thing that I think I actually feel ten times harder than she does and yet, I'm bailing?
Is this the kind of person that I am? Is this who I want to be?
I pull the car over to the side of the road and take a deep breath, climbing out and putting my hands on my lower back while I pace in a circle and try to stop the sudden wave of panic washing over me. It's dark now, but there's not much traffic on this part of the highway, so I get a nice, long, dark moment to think by myself.
“Holy sweet baby Jesus, Hubert,” I say as I squat and look across the front seat into the passenger side of the car where my stupid hairless cat sits crouched in his kennel. He hisses at me, glaring with white-green eyes. “I'm such a fucking moron.” I stand up straight and dig my phone out, pressing call on Brooke's number and waiting anxiously, bouncing up onto my toes as I curse under my breath.
When her voicemail pops up, I start chattering.
“Airbnb.” That's the first thing I say which probably sounds dumb because come on, who opens up a … love confession? is this a love confession? … to somebody by mentioning a website where people rent out rooms and houses and shit. But to me, it makes perfect sense. I'll just put my condo on Airbnb, charge a ridiculous amount of rent to tourists who want to live like locals while they're in town. Of course, I'll probably get my shit stolen and the place burned down, but … hell. Hell, hell, hell. “That's what I'll do,” I tell Brooke's voicemail, praying she actually listens to hers. I know Jude leaves his voicemail full on purpose so he doesn't have to get any new ones or bother listening to them. “I'll rent out my place and I'll … I'll just hang out here for a while, if that's okay with you. I can even stay with my brother if you don't want me at your place.”
I pause and take a deep breath, realizing that I'm basically making zero sense right now.
“Okay, look, just call me back, alright? I'll send you a text.”
I shoot a quick message to Brooke, telling her I'm on my way, and then I hop right back in my car and make a ridiculously illegal u-turn.
Aaaaaand yeah, I get a ticket—the cop looks at me like I'm crazy when I lay out my nutty romantic love story—but that's okay because Brooke's worth it. Totally fucking worth it.
Brooke's car is missing from the driveway when I pull up in my stuttering, janky ass Geo, climbing out and heading to the door to find Monica waiting with pursed lips.