One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 38

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| CAPE MAY |

LUNCH & LATTES

My duffle is packed on my bed. I do one last sweep and grab the condoms from my bedside. The box hasn't been touched since Thanksgiving. I smile to myself. I kept my promise.

Hate that I find myself wondering if he did.

Prob not.

I'm low-key used to the flight now. Well, it feels more ordinary than last time. Last time I made this trip I had a handful of information that assured me I was really flying to my doom. This time, well, same. But in a better way.

Instead of worrying about a bonfire, I worry about the man next to me. He's been playing a crossword for three hours and he's still missing half the clues. I'm playing over his shoulder and I've already solved it twice. It's Elvis, you idiot!

It makes my eyes heavy and before I know it I'm falling forward. You know, that weird falling asleep sensation. I blink and the plane is landing. My half-poured ginger ale has left condensation all over my tray table.

"Trays away and please return your seats to an upright position." The attendant says.

I straighten up and wipe the drool from my face. My mouth is dry and I know I must have slept with it open. I down the ginger ale and toss the plastic cup in the trash when it comes down the aisle.

Here we go.

I wheel my carry-on straight through baggage claim. The automatic doors open and close, open and close. Flurries fly in when people walk out. I button and belt my pea coat and wrap the scarf tighter around my neck. The flurries land like frozen bites on my face as I walk into the mild snowstorm.

Brooks pulls up to the Arrivals curb in his old pick-up truck. Him leaning out the window, hair covered with white, smiling at me could be a snapshot from 10 years ago.

No. I remind myself. Not the same Brooks.

He's out on the curb next to me. Silent but smiling like he's just seeing something really funny for the first time. Brooks tosses my duffle into his truck and I climb into the passenger seat, moving the Edge hoodie into my lap. His car smells like his old bedroom –like him.

I just allow myself one weak ass moment. An ogle fest. I'm disappointed in myself tbh but sure as shit not disappointed in him. His hair is longer than it was one month ago in Seattle. It almost grazes his shoulders now, perfect curtains framing his perfect fucking lips and smile and teeth that are blinding me right now. He leans in across the center console and cups my chin in his hand.

"Missed you." He moves so fucking close but doesn't kiss me. He knows it KILLS ME.

"You too." Shit! I can't help myself. High key into it. I pull my face free from his hand. I don't need this kiss.

"Do I still have to drop you off?" He asks, exaggerating a frown face.

"Yes. Please. You know they'll hunt us down if you don't. Plus, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I know, I know. Can't keep Trix waiting." He rolls his eyes.

"My dutiful chauffeur." I quip.

"I'll drop your bag off at your parents' house?" Brooks asks.

"Sure, thanks," I say.

He drops me at the café on the main strip downtown. This place looks like a postcard. Yuck. Warmth washes over me when I step inside. Warmth and cinnamon sticks. I think I just swallowed a candle.