"BROOKS!" I shout out.
I'm not sure if it's from fright or excitement or a happy marriage of both. It's both. Fuck me. I just don't remember becoming this basic.
I race across the tiny space and flop myself on top of him, elated that his last bit of texts were lies.
"Hey, you." Brooks laughs at my face, holding in between his two palms. He kisses my nose and lips and chin.
"Oh, I could get used to coming home to you." I kiss him deep, sinking into him like I'm trying to drown myself.
"So worth it." Brooks laughs.
"What's worth what?" I question him.
"Fearing your text wrath to see your face just now." He's enjoying himself. I just roll my eyes. "Exhausting day, though. Nap?"
"Duh." I nod.
I could curl up with him and just not leave my bed for the foreseeable future. Even the not-so-foreseeable future.
What's better than a nap, THO.
A nap with Brooks.
We wake up some time later, lost in one of those what-year-is-it vibes. Brooks nudges his nose into my shoulder and pulls me on top of him.
"I'm up," I grumble.
The clock on my phone tells me it's 11:15 PM. I stifle a yawn and roll over onto my back. My stomach makes a noise I've never even heard before and I realize I haven't eaten dinner.
"Hungry?" Brooks looks at me.
"My stomach is."
"Let's go," Brooks says, sliding from the bed.
He's already digging into his duffle fishing out his hoodie. I watch him throw it over his shoulder and secure it under his denim jacket.
"Where?" I ask, brows creased. "It's almost midnight."
"It's almost midnight," Brooks mimics me. "Didn't know you had a bed time."
"Fine," I groan, rolling off the bed.
I pull on leggings and a baggy long-sleeve shirt, throw my flannel parka on top and call it a midnight.
"At your service." I fake bow.
"Smart ass," Brooks grins. "Let's go."
We walk down the dim hallway, inhaling the smell of Chinese food and passing the neighbor's cat on our way to the elevator. It takes us down and I begrudgingly follow Brooks into the cold night.
Brooks stalks off left, like he's on a mission and the destination is in sight.
"Where are we going?" I ask, pepping up my step to keep up.
"To get you breakfast." Brooks shrugs.
"Breakfast at midnight. New." I nod.
Brooks runs into the empty street, leaving me alone on the sidewalk. He raises his arms and head to the starry sky. "This is our walkabout."
"Our what?" I ask.
"Walkabout," he says slower. "We're going to walk through the night. All night. Wherever our legs take us."
"All night?" I ask, skeptical. A low growl grows in my stomach again. "What about sleep?"
"What about breakfast?" Brooks's grin is infectious, as always.
"Lead the way," I say, pretending to give him some invisible fake reigns to our love carriage.
We walk through the semi-empty streets, wandering lazily under the humming streetlights, sleepless in Seattle indeed. Brooks quizzes me on favorite colors and TV episodes and ice cream flavors. Really trivial things that shouldn't matter at all –that don't matter at all. But Brooks has a way about him that makes playing 20-Questions almost too fun.
I stopped keeping track of what number question we are on three bookstores, two parks, and one gas station ago.
I hardly recognize this section of downtown, as I typically have no reason to come here. I think it's vaguely close to that Halloween party I went to with Zoë. The way Brooks walks across the street and down the alleys, you would think he knew this city like the back of his hand, or his map-like butterfly tattoo.
People shuffle out of an underground bar, pushing against the wind, laughing loudly as they pass by us. They smell so strongly I think they decided to wear their drinks.
Brooks spins to looks at me, still holding my falafel wrapper in his hand, packed into a tiny foil baseball. "So, which is it?"
"Which is what?" I ask, forgetting about the question. Too busy being basic.
"Shark or bear. Which one's harder to outrun? Or which one would you rather have to run away from?" Brooks asks, eyes suddenly serious.
"Hmm," I feign decision-making.
"Be careful. This says a lot about you."
"What's picking a thing to run away from say about me?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "Says more about you. Asking such a weird question."
"I'll have you know this is a classic question. Level 1 of question levels," Brooks says, crossing his arms.
"We're still on level 1?" I grin.
I stand up on the curb, two feet away from Brooks who's pacing in the street. The flashing yellow of the traffic sign reflecting off his dark hair and metal zippers.
"But how many levels are there?" I tease.
"However many I make." Brooks shakes his head.
"Fine. A shark. Analyze away." I challenge him, waiting for a comeback. "Go on."
"I'm reserving judgment on level 1," Brooks says, grinning.
"Of course."
A car speeds by, its bumping music reverberating on the blacktop, and the passenger curses off Brooks for standing in the road. Brooks jumps onto the curb and almost knocks into me, laughing. We're under the bright fluorescent lights of some ritzy hotel downtown. I'm half-tempted to take him inside and undress him all the way up the elevator.
My mind is so amped up with picturing naked Brooks and feeling his lips on mine that I almost don't remember answering what my Top 3 all-time smells are.
Seriously.
We walk aimlessly into the middle of the night, passing fewer and fewer people each hour. It's refreshing not having a phone to check and only knowing what time it is when we catch glimpses of clocks on buildings or electronic billboards. We bought a bottle of wine at a corner grocer and poured it into mini plastic cups. We're adults.
I'm feeling the vino, but what I'm not feeling is my feet. Because they're dead. Tired dead. Like I lost them three-blocks ago dead.
The Walkabout must be winding down. I can tell we are getting closer to my Loft, leaving the center-cityscape behind us.
"Look," Brooks says, pointing over the tops of the buildings.
My eyes follow his hand up and I see puffs of light edging into the sky. A silky orange color. "Sunrise."
"Would you rather only see sunrises or sunsets forever?" He asks.
"Don't think I could choose," I admit, biting my lip.
"No?" He raises his eyebrow.
"Don't think I'd want to." I shake my head.
Our feet finally stop walking.
"Our destination," Brooks says, indicating my old converted Loft.
"Had to walk a long way to get here, huh?" I joke.
"Sometimes it takes this long." Brooks pulls me into him and touches his soft lips to mine.
It's short and simple. Not the stuff of X rated fairytales I've grown used to craving from him.
Better, maybe.
Like we'll kiss during every sunrise for the rest of our lives.
We make our way inside and up to my door, stifling yawns and pushing our worn soles. I detangle my hand from Brooks's arm to shove my key in the lock.
"And now we sleep," I say, pushing open my door.
"And now we sleep," Brooks repeats with a grin. "But first..."