LUVS 4 SUCKERS
Brooks gave me the grand tour after our makeshift brunch. I spent solid hours gawking at his condo and everything in it. Level 1 (yes, levels not floors) is this decked-out bar-meets-man-cave lounge with a black leather sofa, exposed brick walls, complete with a pool table and vintage record player.
Level 2 is the main floor, aka the fancy foyer floor. Kitchen and spacious living area with white couches and a glass fireplace build into the middle wall. Guest bathroom is off the library lounge and down the hall is the spare bedroom.
Level 3 is my favorite level. The winding staircase empties you into one airy room with more walls of windows and a slanted cathedral ceiling. A glass window-paned partition separates Brooks's bed from the rest of the room. Aged hardwood floors give it a lived-in look, but I know better. It's uncommonly clean, with no pictures or posters –nothing like Brooks's bedroom back home.
We spent the night talking and kissing and laughing, saving all the good stuff for V night, as Brooks put it. We cuddled. It was sweet.
I roll over and pick-up my phone, shocked that it's almost noon on V-Day.
"Put your phone away. No phones," Brooks groans into the pillow, placing his hands on my waist.
"I'm checking the time!" I squeal thanks to the tickling.
"Did we sleep in?" Brooks asks sleepily.
"You could say that. It's quarter to noon." I let my phone drop to the covers. I turn back to Brooks and place my face right in front of his, nudging his nose. "I'm not complaining though."
"Let's never get up."
"But what about our non-fancy romantic date tonight?" I joke. "Blowing me off?"
"Hopefully you're blowing me off," Brooks grins.
"Brooks!" I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs.
"Stop," he groans, pulling my hands away, laughing. He finally opens his eyes. "I like seeing you in my bed."
"Morning," I smirk.
He stands, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, allowing me the perfect amount of time to ogle at his 12 pack –at my favorite tattoos in the world –at his godly silhouette in the sunlight.
I sit up in his bed, pulling the covers up around my waist.
"Catch." Brooks tosses me a UNC T-shirt.
"Thanks." I slip it over my head and throw my hair into a bun. It still smells like Wells's pot wreath. Def need a blow out before dinner.
"Can you believe it's our second Valentine's Day in a row?" Brooks asks, slipping on gym shorts. Bye briefs. Sad face.
"You're counting?" I tease.
"You're not?" Brooks asks, suspicious.
"Look at you, Mr. Sappy Romantic." I roll my eyes.
"You know I am. If we're not careful we might break our record," he jokes.
"I think we have it in us."
I look up at him from my spot in the middle of his bed. Brooks leans over me, cups my chin in his hand, and kisses me. "We got us beat."
///
Our Valentine's dinner was casual, albeit slightly boujee. Brooks took me to some medium scale restaurant-bar. Tons of couples. Made me miss our under the radar food truck quickie date. Still, there's something about sitting across from Brooks at a table that never gets old.
After our meals we transitioned to the private bar lounge area of the same establishment. Brooks ordered a bottle of champagne; we listened to everyone tell us how beautiful a couple we made. I even wore red for the occasion.
There were no flowers, but there were 100 couples.
Still amazed people buy into this shit. Shit being raw consumerism masquerading as a holiday. Luvs 4 suckers.
"Was this suitable for you? Nothing too serious?" Brooks asks, sipping the last of the bubbly.
"It was perfect. We should start planning next year," I tease.
"I'm open to ideas. But this night's not quite over yet. We still need to have dessert." Brooks's eyes shine.
I'm guessing we're thinking of having the same thing for dessert. Each other.
The restaurant was only a few blocks from his condo downtown, so we decided to walk. I follow Brooks down the sidewalk, my blood red bandage dress turning heads left and right.
Brooks could be a celebrity the way he's dressed right now. And his flow hair OMG. No wonder people think we're a beautiful couple.
It's just facts.
"So Brody and Lauren set a date," Brooks says, tucking his phone back in his pocket. "That was him."
"No way! When? And let me guess, best man round 2?" I laugh.
"Likely. And it's November this year," Brooks tells me.
"Ugh. Lucky. I'd love a wedding November." I don't even pay attention to myself saying it. But as it slips out and as Brooks's face lights up when it does, I don't regret it.
I would love a November wedding.
"This you dropping hints? Should I take note?" Brooks laughs, looking shocked.
"Stop," I laugh him off, nudging his side.
"Forgot we don't talk about that," Brooks says, coolly.
"The night is young still."
"Don't tease me, Emmy Lou," Brooks whispers into my hair.