Chasing Sunsets

27

"Indie, what are you doing here?" Brock asked me, the confusion he felt evident by the way his brows were furrowed.

I didn't answer, I just looked at him instead. I'd never really looked at Brock, carefully anyways. I've never admired him, I've never ran my eyes over his face and taken in his features. So, I did. I looked at his short brown hair, which even though I'm assuming he was just awoken by my texts, looked like it was styled perfectly. His eyes were blue, and they were scrunched in confusion as he observed me observing him.

And, though I don't know why, I couldn't help but compare him to Chase. While they were certainly both handsome, Chase had a softness about him that Brock didn't seem to have.

"Indie?" Brock said my name again, and I noticed his voice sounded even more confused.

"I couldn't sleep," I told him, not that it explained anything. But, I didn't know what else to say. I, myself, didn't even know why I was here.

"Okay," Brock let out, glancing around the interior of my car like he expected someone else to be in there. "Where's Bella? Is she okay?"

I titled my head back at him, wondering why he jumped to the conclusion that something had happened to her. But then, I remembered that Bella and I had been glued to each other's sides for so long, that it likely seemed like a good explanation for why she wasn't with me.

"She's okay," I let out, "she's at her house, sleeping."

"Do you need me to call her?" Brock asked, surprising me. Why would I need him to call her? "Do you need help? Should I call your parents?"

Brock was looking at me like I was a gunshot victim that had just been delivered to my door. I needed life saving surgery that he didn't know how to perform.

"No," I told him, my eyes starting to water from embarrassment. "No, I just... I," I let out, struggling to find the words.

Brock crouched down quickly, so that our faces were level. He brought his arms up, laying his hands on each of my shoulders. His face had changed, from what was alarmed concern to what looked like determination.

"Hey, Indie, it's okay. It's okay," he was speaking to me like a mother speaks to its hysterically crying child.

"You said you were here for me," I told him, the logic that was filling my brain when it told me to come here not making quite as much sense as it did then.

"I am," he said quickly, patting my shoulders. "I am here for you." Brock stood to his feet, and he looked back towards his house, as if he was hesitant. "Do you want to come in?"

I took a breath, weighing the options of staying here or driving back to my house to be all alone again. When the last option didn't seem too appealing, I nodded.

"Okay," Brock let out, and I couldn't tell whether he was relieved that I said yes, or disappointed. "My parents are sleeping, so we have to be quiet."

I nodded again, using the hem of my sweater to wipe the stray tears from under my eyes. Brock took my hand, as he pulled me from the car. Once I was out, he closed my door for me. I didn't bother locking my car as he led me towards my front door, knowing that our neighbourhood was as safe as a neighbourhood could be.

Brock opened the front door, trying his best to make no noise as he closed it behind us. He led me through his house, which seemed even bigger than it had the last time I was here. Without the large amounts of drunken teenagers, you could see how spacious the luxurious house really was. Brock didn't let my hand go as we crept though the rooms, until eventually he pulled me down same stairs as Bella, Isla and I had gone down at his party.