We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 15

My heart's never been so full. Searching the faces of everyone lined around the table, I know it. I'm on cloud nine.

No. Cloud 10. Cloud 100. Outer space.

It's not just because these people root me to my childhood and make me feel young; it's not even because I've known them the longest of all my friends.

They make me feel like me. They make me feel home.

...

After dinner, we migrate back to the great room. Logs crackle merrily in the fireplace. I've decided it's like static background noise for the cabin. Cabin static.

I happily plop on the couch between Trix and Meg; my legs are already sore from the uphill hiking. Looking around, I conclude I am not the only one that's worn out.

"I'm exhausted," Meg says, barely stifling a yawn.

"Me too," Whit sighs.

"It's 9 PM people," Alex announces, his voice scolding.

"Seriously, when did we get old?" I agree.

"It was the hiking. And the being active," Brooks reminds us.

"And the delicious cooking," Nate adds.

"Well, we should rest up anyway. Make it an early night. Because I promise tomorrow won't be." Trix's eyes twinkle with each and every word.

"Oh god," I grumble, laughing.

Trix has something up her sleeve for tomorrow night, I can already tell. Themed, if I had to guess. My mind goes back to the too-memorable ABC party she threw senior year of high school. Anything. But. Clothes.

"What's the plan, again?" Travis asks, his hand massaging Trix's shoulder.

"A surprise," Trix smirks.

She tears open the bag of marshmallows we scored at the truck stop. Meg works on the bag of snack size chocolate bars. Whit is passing around a pack of elongated wooden skewers.

"Marshmallow?" Trix asks, holding up the bag.

We pass everything around and take turns toasting marshmallows on the open fire. The s'mores look delicious. Extra delicious when the leftover chocolate is on Brooks's lips. He pulls me from the couch and stands me in front of him by the fire. I lean back into his chest, nuzzling my head into his flannel. The inexplicable smell of bonfire pervades me. Trix's eyes narrow on mine when Brooks puts his arms over my shoulder, locking them around my neck.

Maybe it's the balminess of the cabin or the whiskey in my blood, but I feel perfectly at ease. Almost in a haze. This day –the last 24 hours really –has been in stark ass contrast compared to my last few months. I was just idling by, not really caring.

I win awards for wallowing.

No more. Now, now I am blissed.

...

I roll over in bed and, stretching, I want to cry. Sleeping has made me realize how stiff and sore I am from using my legs so much on the hike yesterday. Brooks's side of the bed is empty and I can smell coffee from the kitchen.

I stifle a yawn and walk over to the mirror. My comb catches on several knots in my hair, but overall I get good results. I'm nippin' hard through my camisole. It's not so warm once the fire burned out. Not so warm without Brooks's massive body's heat rubbing off on mine.

The door creaks open and a shirtless Brooks appears. He hands me a mug of steaming coffee as I sit back on the bed. I pull the covers up over my bare legs and lean back on the headboard.

"Hope you don't have anywhere to go. Looks like we are snowed in," Brooks says.

"Snowed in?" I ask, blowing on the surface of my coffee.

"Well, it's piled halfway up the kitchen windows and I'm pretty sure if I open the door, five feet of snow will fall in," Brooks says, spreading his long legs out in bed next to me. "I'd say we're snowed in."

"Good thing we're staying another night," I smirk.

"Good thing," Brooks growls, voice husky.

A gift from the cold.

"What?" He asks, looking at me sideways.

A grin spreads across my face and I have to bite my lip to keep it calm. "You sound like –manly. It's hot."

"Manly?" Brooks laughs. "What do I normally sound like?"

"Just extra manly. All I don't know –mountain manly." I look away, back to sipping my coffee.

"Mountain manly and it's hot?" Brooks nods his head like he's making a mental note.

I ogle at him, admiring his growing scruff and the way it fades down his neck. The long hair tucked behind his ears are just as lucky as the ones falling into his eyes. God, his eyes –a sea-foam blue ocean when they want to be and a raging charcoal storm when they don't.

Ten years have passed since we started dating –since I spent carefree nights gazing into his eyes like I was gazing at the stars. He's so grown up now, but moments like this –it's like he's still the 15 year old I fell in love with.

"What?" Brooks asks, questioning me. "Why are you looking at me like that again?"

I bring my palm to his hair, feeling its cool silky waves between my fingers. His lips so pink and perfect –kissable. "It's just –you're beautiful. You're a beautiful human."

"It takes one to know one." Brooks kisses me.

He pulls back and the hairs on the back of my neck scream in protest. I need more. I'd kill for more. Making me get real Halsey Finally // Beautiful Stranger vibes right now.

"So, snowed in? I wonder what we're going to do all day?" I joke, eyeing him up and down.

"Not so fast. Trix is out there making pancakes. Think she's about to spill the details on the party tonight." Brooks places his mug on the bedside table.

"Trix would have a party when we're already having a weekend long party," I say, laughing.

"She's got bags and bags. Saw them on the barstools. Also saw a boom box, I think? Is that what they're called?" Brooks asks, laughing.

"A boom box?" My voice sounds incredulous because I am.

"We should be worried," Brooks nods.