One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 64

Hi! Are you loving OMT? Please vote ⭐️ and share and tag all your friends!

...

VALENTINE'S DAY

4:21 PM

It's been almost three weeks of zero communication. Well that is unless you count the mysterious text and missed phone call at 2 AM four days ago. Which I don't count. 

Ok I count it.

Of course I don't text him or call him because of our silent game. The who will cave first game.

I spent all weekend stringing up little cut-out hearts on the rafters. We put out a jar of vegan candy convo hearts. And got a rose scented air plug-in so love is literally in the air. Gross.

We finished early today. Zoë needed time to prep for her date. It's not so bad. Classes we empty today anyway. Apparently yoga is low priority for Valentine's Day prep, who knew? I just got back from the studio and drop my iced coffee on my countertop. Sure, it's February but no, it's never too cold for iced coffee. I throw my duffle bag over the chair and head for the shower. The steam helps. Like it does the mirror, it fogs my mind.

I towel dry and I'm in the middle of applying my deodorant when I hear it.

Knock. Knock.

My heart jumps from my chest. I glance at my phone. There's no new message on it.

Remain calm, Emmy. It's probably a delivery guy knocking on the wrong apartment. You got this.

I throw my open deodorant onto the bed and throw on my nearest sports bra.

Knock. Knock.

It's probably Zoë asking me to walk with her to the studio for our 5:00 class. Yes, that's it. I hop across the floor, pulling on my leggings. Well, struggling to pull them on.

The last KNOCK becomes a crash and I hear cursing on the other side of the wall.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

Yup.

Him.

Brooks.

Predictable, right? Trashy, poorly written rom-com material. No, it's just my life.

"Hi," he says, leaning in the doorway. All casual and shit.

"Hi?" It comes out like a question but I'm not sure why. The confusion in my voice must have spread to my face.

"Expecting someone else?" Brooks cocks his eyebrow.

"No," I say too quickly. My hair dripping beads of water onto my bare neck.   

"Tell your face that," he says, laughing. Like fits of laughter overcoming him.

There's something weird about his presence right now. As he pushes me forward into my own apartment, I realize what it is. He's drunk. V drunk.

"Drink much on the plane?" I ask, half joking.

"Hotela." He nudges me. Playful.

"Hotel? You were already at a hotel?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Since–yester-day, day, yea," he nods, already slurring.

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I haven't heard from this fucker in WEEKS. And he's been in Seattle, just blocks away for an entire night?

"You've been in Seattle for a day? What the fuck?" I curse at him.  I swat at his hands trying to snake their way down to my ass.

"Thought you'd be happy –um –to-see-me." He pretends to pout.

"What were you doing here?" I ask, my voice hard. I won't let him just get out of explaining himself. "Why were you drinking?"

"Had a meeting for Edge, OK. Geez mom." Brooks whines, dropping his hands from me. His foot smashes into the side of my counter and he falls forward.

Fuck.

"You're fucking drunk!" I exclaim. He just looks at me with sappy eyes and a stupid smirk. I don't think I've seen him this messed up since New Years. But this is a different kind of drunk. This is drinking alone drunk.

"You're fucking cute!" He matches my tone, pinching my nose.

"God, Brooks. I'm surprised you even found your way to my apartment." I roll my eyes.

He steps into me again. His hands are back on my butt and in my hair and I can smell the Jack on his breath. My body buzzes when he takes my lip between his teeth.

I'm still pissed at him. Pissed for no call. No warning. Pissed he's been in Seattle for an entire mf day! But as he leans into me and rests his weight on me, I suddenly forget about it all. Forget I'm pissed.

"Come on." I urge him toward the bed.

If he passes out in the kitchen then that's where he'll be sleeping.

It takes a lot of strength to heave him onto my bed and even more to walk away from him in it. But I have a class to teach. He passes out in two minutes. By the time I drop off a glass of water on the bedside table he's already snoring. I can't help but smile at his cute lil face nuzzled into my pillow.

My eyes sweep the loft for my tote and I close the door quietly behind me when I leave for the studio.