Brooklyn picked me up at 7 on the dot, and when I walked outside to his car, he already had the passenger door held open for me. For all his shortcomings, there really was a genuinely good guy in him.
He hopped into the driver's seat, and the engine roared as he sped away down my street. The wind whipped through the car, and I silently thanked Nikki for a hairstyle that wouldn't undo in the open air of the roofless Mustang.
Brooklyn fiddled with the radio the way he always did, cranking the volume to counteract the sound of the wind. It was moments like that where I wished I could stop time. We really were happy, laughing and holding hands with the sun bathing our world in a golden light.
We hit the parkway, driving further away from Devil's Point than I'd been since living here. After enough speed and enough wind and more distance than I had been prepared to handle, Brooklyn pulled off of an exit and into a small town, with one quiet main road that seemed to be void of all human life. He slowed to a stop in front of a tiny, old brick building. I could barely make out the dark script imprinted on the front window.
"Villalobos," Brooklyn said in his mangled Spanish accent. "It means Town of Wolves. My dad's friend from college owns the place. It's in the middle of nowhere, but they do killer business, and they have, in my unprofessional opinion, the best tacos on the east coast."
A wide smile captured my features. I went to unbuckle my seatbelt when Brooklyn stopped me. "Oh we're not eating here, I'm just picking the food up."
He winked at me before jumping out of the car. Through the large front window I watched Brooklyn chat with the petite redheaded hostess, her eyes wide and fixated on him. He chatted and laughed with her like they were best friends. I was never the jealous type - but then again, I had never been around someone like him. His sweet, easygoing charm was part of this pull that he had, almost like a planet ready to ensnare any wayward comets in his gravity. At this point I was definitely one of those comets, sucked right in and fated to hover in his atmosphere. It made me second guess a lot of what I thought I knew about men, and even myself.
After he returned, we drove away and pulled down a small offshoot - a quiet suburban street lined with one-story brick houses and large oak trees with branches that danced in the soft breeze. The street abruptly ended in a thicket of bushes and tall marram grass, but over the tops of them I could see the sky, clear and just starting to turn orange with the setting sun.
Brooklyn parked the car at the dead end and ran around the front of it to open my door. It was something so small and insignificant, but I'd never get tired of it. He grabbed a backpack from the back seat and started leading me towards the bushes.
"So, are you going to tell me what's going on yet?" I prodded.
He gave me a smirk and shook his head. "Just follow me."
I took his hand as he led me through the brush, thankful I had chosen an outfit that covered my legs. When we made it through to a clearing, it felt like someone had pumped so much air into my chest that it threatened to burst. In front of us was a strip of beach with white sand, probably no bigger than my living room, surrounded by the same brush and beachgrass that we walked through. A small dock stretched out into the ocean, so calm it looked like glass as the sun began to dip below its surface.
"Wow," was all I could manage to breath out.
"Is this an okay spot for our tacos?" Brooklyn beckoned me to follow him up the dock. He pulled a tribal printed blanket from his backpack and laid it at the edge, sitting down so that his feet dangled over the water. I sat down beside him, letting the warmth of the dusky sun wash over me.
"Brooklyn..." I sighed out. "This is amazing. Thank you."
He stayed quiet, his eyes trained out to the ocean. But he put his hand over mine, brushing his thumb over my knuckles and filling me with warmth.
We ate in a comfortable silence, watching the sun slowly set and turn the ocean into a messy watercolor painting of blues and purples and oranges. Every time I glanced over at him, he was already looking at me, his blue eyes deep and veiled with something I didn't recognize, but whatever it was, it brewed a storm inside of me.
I looked down at my feet dangling over the ocean, but my skin prickled as I felt Brooklyn's eyes still on me.
"What?" I asked with a slight chuckle.
He gave me a faint smile but stayed silent.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I continued. "Like..."
"Like I adore you?" Brooklyn's smile widened, and his eyes gleamed like they had stolen the stars right out of the sky. "Because I do. I fucking adore you."
I swore I heard a pop in my chest, like my heart had just exploded from the onslaught of emotion. "Brooklyn..."
"Seriously," he kept smiling at me. "You're like, the best thing that's ever happened to me."
I was a mess of thoughts and emotions, and any words I wanted to say knotted up in my throat. I knew the feeling that was starting to bubble up inside of me, and it scared the hell out of me.
"Me too," I finally said, leaning my head on his shoulder. "I mean it."
The rest of our dockside dinner passed by in a blur, but I danced on clouds the entire time. We talked about nothing at all, like the weather and our favorite sneakers and bad movies, but somehow Brooklyn made it seem like something. I hinged on every word he said and felt my cheeks aching from smiling so much.
When Brooklyn dropped me off at my house, I took my time gathering myself, silently pleading for our night to not end. Brooklyn fiddled with the radio like he always did, and I could tell he was stalling too.
"So..." he clicked his tongue.
"So..." I echoed, drawing out the o. The fuzzy static of the radio filled our silence.
"Do you have plans for Sunday?" he asked, cracking a small smile.
"Well..." I tapped my finger on my chin. "I have a very important date scheduled with my copy of Pride and Prejudice."
Brooklyn chuckled, still smiling that same smile that made my stomach feel like I was on a rollercoaster. "Would you be willing to forgo your date with Mr. Darcy to have dinner at my house?"
"You mean like, order in Chinese food or...?"
"Not exactly," Brooklyn grimaced. "More like...a family thing. My mom's idea. We don't do this all the time, so she wanted me to invite you."
He fiddled with the radio again. I tried to read the expression on his face, somewhere in between uncomfortable and strained. I delicately pulled his hand away from the knobs on the radio and laced my fingers between his.
"Mr. Darcy will have to wait, I guess."
Brooklyn smiled at me again, but this time, his eyes were filled with pure relief.
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