Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Brooks snorted. “Baby, that’s a whole ’nother conversation. One that a straight boy like you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m not…” I caught myself just in time. “Interested in you calling me baby.” Okay, that was a lie. There were many, many situations in which I would be quite alright with it, especially the ones in which everyone was naked. I swallowed and started again. “But Ava’s really counting on this win, and her family nearly threatened my life if I don’t bring home the gold, okay? Help a fellow city boy out.”
“It’s a golden horn.”
I tilted my head at him and almost missed the three stone steps up to the parking lot at the end of the trail. “The what?”
“The winner of the Lope gets an engraved metal horn. It’s a little plaque-like thing, but it’s in the shape of cow horns.”
“Of course it is.” I bit back a laugh. This place wouldn’t be believed outside of a bad fever dream or EDM concert high. “Doesn’t matter. I need the horn. And your milk.” I groaned. “Goddamn it, why does that have to sound so perverted?”
Brooks laughed, deep and clear. It was the most relaxed I’d seen him since that first night in his parents’ hallway. Something about being the only person here to see and hear it made me feel special, like I was witnessing a rare sighting of the real Brooks Johnson.
“Fine. Here.” He held out his pail.
I came to a stop and almost skidded across the paved parking lot. “Wait, what?”
He shrugged. “Take it. If it’ll make Ava happy, it’s a no-brainer.”
There had to be a catch. I looked around the empty lot for a hidden camera crew. “Why would you—”
Three runners burst out of the trail behind us, suddenly reminding me that this was a race, and in order to win it, I needed to actually cross the finish line first. I shoved my empty pail at him and grabbed the handle of his full one.
“Thanks!” And then I sped onward to victory, beating out Brooks by only half a stride.
The look on Ava’s face when I crossed the finish line first was worth the scraped knees and bramble scratches. She looked bright and happy, hopping up and down and clapping while Paul stood next to her, dutifully holding her purse and water bottle. For a split second, it looked like the two of them were a couple, but then Ava ran toward me and jumped into my arms excitedly.
“You did it! Oh, Mal! You’re the best.”
I tried not to care that Ava’s mom and Brooks’s mom were giving me funny looks. Was this too much PDA for the Thicket?
For a single second, Paul looked more dejected than Brooks. Then he stepped away from Ava with a smile and murmured congrats, walked up to Brooks, and kissed the man full on the lips.
Even though I stood there swimming in glorious victory, I still somehow managed to feel like I had lost.
7
Brooks
I’ve never experienced a more awkward car ride than the one home from the Lope, and that included the ride home from the Lickin’ Dinner Dance after I’d publicly outed myself, broken up with Ava, and crushed my mom’s dreams, and one memorable Uber ride last summer where my driver had obviously been watching porn on his way to pick me up and couldn’t figure out how to shut it off when I got in the car. At least no one was high-pitched moaning as Paul and I climbed in the back seat of my dad’s truck—“a Johnson keeps two hands on his own rig, Brooks”—but I would maybe have preferred that to the ringing, disappointed silence.
When I’d made the split-second decision to give my milk pail to Mal back in the woods, it had seemed right somehow, like I was paying a debt. A win for Mal was a win for Ava, and I owed Ava a win, right?
It should have been as simple as that, and I tried to tell myself it was… but a win for Mal was also a win for Mal, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that was my real motive. Mal seemed to hate taking help, whether it was me milking Annabelle for him or Ollie Nutter pointing out his pail handle was loose before the Lope. He had more prickles than a burdock bur, as evidenced by the way he’d shut me down yesterday afternoon, but every once in a while, when we forgot all the reasons we disliked each other, I got this feeling that his bright blue eyes saw me, and it made me want to get past his spikes just to know for sure.
I rolled my eyes.
Knowing he got me on a deep, fundamental level wouldn’t change the fact that he was Ava’s boyfriend, or that I lived in New York and had a life to get back to. And finding out he didn’t would mean I’d upset my parents for nothing.