One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 65

6:39 PM

I turn my key in the lock, worried about what I'll find waiting for me. It's only been two hours. Will Brooks be awake? Still sleeping? Mad? Will he still be here?

My heart stops. The alternative hurts to even think about. He wouldn't come all the way here to leave. Who does that?

I push open the door.

He's still here.

Still asleep on my bed. He makes my entire bed look better just by being on it. I roll my eyes.

The shower is hot and steamy and I try to be quick so I don't wake him. I think part of me takes too long because I'm hoping I do wake him. I'm hoping I'll feel his hand slide around my waist and draw me into him.

Hoping the steam will wrap us both in a warm blanket until our bodies are indecipherable from each other's.

Chill, bitch. I breathe heavy in the steam.

Relax. Relax. Relax.

You got this.

I flip my hair into a bun and slide on his T-shirt –the one he left here over Thanksgiving –the one I definitely and 100% did not sleep in for weeks straight.

When I finally edge to my bed, he's starting to move. It's almost 7:00 and pitch dark outside. The streetlamps outside our loft turn on, flooding the floor with artificial yellow rays. They mimic the light specks in his eyes.

"Hey." He smiles sideways. "And sorry."

"Sorry for?" I low key panic. Did he say something that I missed?

"Might have puked on a pillow or two," he says, embarrassed. Phew.

"At least you didn't puke on me," I laugh.

"Did you just get back?" Brooks asks, taking in my ridiculous wet hair and T-shirt.

"Had classes. I left Zoë solo for the last one. You've been asleep for like two hours." I say, sitting on the bed. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving, actually. Want to get dinner?" Brooks stands from my bed.

"There's a food truck block party thing going on. Passed it on my way back from the studio. Interested?" I ask him.

"A food truck block party? Are you sure?" He laughs.

"Yea I'm sure. I saw it on the banner ad thing. Some festival shit," I say.

"Not are you sure it's going on," he laughs at me. "Are you sure that's what you want to do for dinner?"

"Low quality high price food cooked in the back of a moving trashcan? Course I'm sure." I shrug.

"Food truck block party on Valentine's Day," he laughs. "Cheap date."

"Hey!" I shout, nudging him. "You're welcome."

"Yea, yea. I'll thank you later," Brooks smirks.

"You better be talking about dessert," I tease.

"Something like that."

The food truck extravaganza is in a vacant lot two blocks from my loft. Sort of a pop-up food truck strip mall. Some of the best food trucks in Seattle are here. Some I've tried and some I've only heard of by name.

Lazy Licker (all food served on a stick)

Candied Pig (everything has bacon, literally)

Taco Bout It (duh)

Nola in a Bowla (New Orleans inspired bowls)

The list continues.

The trucks are arranged along the vacant lot perimeter with a bunch of picnic tables in the center. There're some hanging lights that crisscross above, connecting the food trucks. It's surprisingly packed.

"Is this Seattle's idea of a romantic date night?" Brooks questions the food truck festival.

"No," I nudge him. "That's why I brought you here."

"Touché." He pretends to be stabbed in the heart.

"So where do you want to start?" I ask, looking at the food truck lines in front of us.

"Start?" He asks.

"Yes, start. We're obviously trying them all tonight," I say like duh.

"They don't look vegan friendly," he says, shaking his head.

"I'll make an exception."

We start with Taco Bout It because well it is Valentine's Day after all and who doesn't love tacos? Brooks sits down next to me at the picnic table. We unwrap our sriracha tacos.

"Want to race?" He smirks.

"Want to lose?" I laugh.

"Wait! I want proof I got you to eat a taco."

He picks my phone up from the table and leans in to take a selfie. Half the lettuce in my taco falls out when he smushes it against my face.

Two minutes later our tacos are gone.

We shared fried Oreo lollipops and an apple pie baked with maple bacon. The entire time I just kept thinking how different the food truck block party was from the last party we went to –how different it was from New Years. I didn't care. I didn't even care anymore that he was in Seattle for a whole day and didn't call me. He showed up today. Valentine's Day.

OK, no flowers or chocolates or $8 greeting card. But that's because he knows I despise all that stuff –all the traditional trappings of V Day.

As he sat across from me trying to pick all the bacon crumbles out of the pie, I wanted nothing more than to jump on him –to transport us back to my studio –transport us back to my bed.

The whole way back to the loft Brooks was staring at me sideways. He had this look on his face that was almost like he was trying to remember something he had to tell me.