Chapter Thirteen

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Brooklyn's POV

As soon as I got off the phone with Artemis, a text popped up. I opened it, discovering it was from Dick.

Dick: Hey Wilson, wanna come over and try to figure out who framed you for the vandalism? I was working with a friend I know in forensics and I think I got a lead on something.

Brooklyn: Whoa really? Sounds great. I'll bring pizza.

Dick: Perfect. I'll pick you up at 7?

Brooklyn: Sure. See you then Grayson.

I turned off my phone and let out a big sigh. Tonight was the night. I was going to confront him about his alias, if he even had one. It just all made sense, his hair, his body, his voice, his familiar touch. I almost felt stupid for not thinking about bringing it up sooner. I put on some fresh makeup, his purple Hal's Gymnastic Studio shirt, and a pair of running shorts. I ran downstairs and into the kitchen and pulled together a box of leftover pizza. I looked at the time and it was only 6:30 p.m. So, I watched television to calm my nerves until the doorbell rang. The whole time I debated on how I was going to handle getting the truth out of him.

When he finally came to the door, I opened it with a stern face. He was standing there, his dark raven hair perfectly messy, with a small grin on his face. "You okay?" he frowned, "...you definitely look like you're not feeling the aster right now."

I snapped back, "What? What do you mean? I'm fine."

His eyes widened, "Okay...  I brought your helmet. We can put the pizza in my backpack."

I placed my helmet on my head and hopped on his bike, wrapping my arms around his waist. Soon, we zoomed off and entered the driveway of his rich father's house. "My brothers are home by the way. Don't mind them though, I told them to leave us alone."

I just nodded my head and we got off and were greeted by Alfred, my favorite carpool driver ever. "Hello, Miss Brooklyn. How are we today?" asked Alfred, taking my box of pizza.

"Great, thanks. Could you put those in the fridge for me?" I smiled.

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Brooklyn. Enjoy your time," Alfred nodded and walked into the kitchen.

Suddenly, Dick grabbed my hand and led me towards the stairs. "Come on, let's go to my room. I have some stuff set up for research."

We walked upstairs and suddenly a small and muscular boy walked out a door and into the hallway. "Wow, so I guess Dick didn't make up the story about him having a girlfriend," the boy said, snickering with his arms crossed.

"Damian," Dick began.

"Com'on Damian. Just leave him alone," interrupted another boy, who was taller and leaner, coming from the other room.

"Oh, shut up Tim. You're still just pissed I beat you in sparring a while ago," Damian sneered.

"Beat me? Trust me, I let you win," Tim rebuttled.

"Guys," interrupted Dick again, "...be quiet. This is Brooklyn and she's not my, well..."

He just looked at me. Were we boyfriend and girlfriend? I guess it all depended on how our conversation soon to happen went.

"Hey," I spoke as I grabbed Dick's hand, leading him towards his room, "You guys seem nice. But, we're going to go now."

We walked in and closed the door. I ran over to his queen sized bed and face-planted onto it, letting out a big sigh, "What do you got?"

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