Like Gravity (3 page)

After weighing the pros and cons of
that
unpleasant scenario, I hastily removed my notebooks from the pack, leaving only the jacket inside.
Much better,
I observed, breathing a sigh of relief and settling into a seat in the middle of the large lecture hall.

The rest of my day passed without incident. With the exception of a handful of stares drawn by the bandage on my temple, I was able to fly mostly below the radar. My classes were, as expected, boring reiterations of the syllabus and a discussion of course expectations.

Criminal Justice and Sociology each had several hundred students enrolled and were graded on a bell-curve so they’d be easy A’s for me. Public speaking would be a different matter – with only twenty students, the professor made it clear that hiding out in the back row wasn’t an option. She’d even forced us to make juvenile folded paper signs, prominently displaying our names on our desks like we were in the second grade. Of course, she immediately noticed mine and decided to torture me in front of the class. It was just that kind of day, after all.

“Your name is
Brooklyn
?” she exclaimed, her voice artificially interested. “How unique! Is there any significance to it?”

Th
is question was not new to me – year after year of elementary school teachers had wondered the same thing. Somehow, I just assumed I’d escaped it when I got to college. Then again, I also thought I’d escaped bubbly, mothering teachers. Was this simpering woman seriously an accredited professor?

“Oh, yes, I guess there is,” I shrugged, uncomfortable under the weighted stares of the entire class. “My mother named me
Brooklyn because that’s where she and my father met.”
Translation: that’s where he knocked her up.

I purposefully gave her as few details as possible, knowing it was best to discourage any further questions a
bout my parentage. Disappointed, she frowned slightly before turning to interrogate someone else. I relaxed, looked at the clock above the door, and proceeded to count the minutes until the end of class. 

***

Back at my apartment that night, John Mayer crooned through my speakers as I danced and sang my way around the kitchen, gathering ingredients for dinner. The front door opened and Lexi strolled in, a Starbucks cup in each hand.

“One
venti nonfat chai tea latte, as promised,” Lexi said, smiling as she handed me the steaming cup. “Forgive me?”

“Forgiven,” I agreed, happily sipping my chai.

“What’s for dinner?”

“How do you feel about veggie lasagna?”

“Sounds perfect. How’s your head?” she asked, grimacing slightly.

“It’s fine, I took some Advil and I can barely feel it anymore.”

“Great! Because we’re going out tonight,” Lexi announced.

“It’s Monday night. I have
two classes tomorrow, Lex; I’m not going out.”

“
Pleeeease,” she whined, making puppy-dog eyes, “There’s a band playing at Styx tonight and they’re supposed to be amazing! We
have
to go.”

“You don’t even like going to see bands, and you definitely don’t like Styx,” I noted, remembering her reaction to the
dark, crowded club the first and only time we’d ever gone there. “So who is he?” I inquired casually, between sips of chai.

“Who’s who?” she asked, playing innocent.

“
Who
is the guy who talked you into going out tonight?” I said, calling her out on her bullshit. I knew I’d hit my mark when her cheeks flamed to match the exact shade of her hair.

“Okay, fine! You got me,” she admitted, not meeting my eyes. “There’s this guy in my American Lit class. He may or may not have mentioned being there tonight.”

“But why do I have to go with you?” I complained.

“Brooklyn Grace Turner! You know I can’t just go alone! You’re my wing-woman. Plus, you don’t want me walking home by myself, do you?” she begged, batting her lashes at me. “I’ll owe you big time!”

“You almost killed me this morning! You
already
owe me, Lex,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, but you already forgave me for that!
Pleeeease come with me, Brooke.” Her baby blue eyes were practically glistening with fake tears.

“Even
if
I agreed to come – which I haven’t – there’s still the matter of the giant bruise on my forehead.”

“The swelling has completely gone down and I’ll work my m
agic on your hair and makeup. No one will even notice, once I’m through with you,” she promised.

“Fine,” I muttered, knowing I was only prolonging the inevitable by holding out. Once Lexi made up her mind about something, it was nearly impossible to deter her.

“Yes! You are the absolute best,” she squealed, throwing her arms around my neck. “You won’t regret this, I swear!”

“I know,” I agreed, smil
ing as a thought occurred to me. “Cause you’re buying every round.”

Small Packages

“What’s this guy’s name, anyway?” I yelled in Lexi’s ear, trying to be heard over the thumping bass.

The band had yet to make an appearance, and Styx pulsed with the computerized sounds of electronic music. The dance floor was mobbed with bodies, and Lexi and I pushed our way through the crush to the bar. The bartender was swamped, racing back and forth to fill drink orders.

“What did you say?” Lexi shouted back at me, smoothing her red bob and adjusting her cleavage before trying to flag down the bartender. Finally managing to grab his attention, she ordered two vodka-cranberries and slapped a ten down on the bar.

“Keep the change,” she winked at him when he placed the drinks in front of her.

Handing one to me, she led the way toward the front of the dance floor, as close as we could get to the stage. She turned when we reached our destination, holding her drink out to me in salute.

“Cheers, bitch! To sophomore year,” she declared, playfully bumping her cup into mine.

“And to fake IDs,” I agreed, laughing. I sipped my drink, refreshingly cold in the damp heat of the club, and looked up as the stage lights began to blink, signaling the band’s arrival.

“Finally!” Lexi yelled. “Tyler’s the drummer, by the way.”

Ah, so that was her mystery American Lit man’s name
– and it explained our ridiculously close proximity to the stage.

I tugged uncomfortably on the short black lace dress I’d let Lexi to talk me into wearing. I had to admit, though, she’d done wonders with my hair and makeup. My long waves were artfully pinned up around my head, with carefully selected tendrils hanging down to frame my face. As for the bruise, Lexi had kept her word and made it disappear beneath layers of expensive foundation and bronzer. The dark shadows beneath my eyes, permanent remnants from my sleepless nights, would only be discernible under intense scrutiny.

The stage lights came up suddenly, illuminating the platform and blinding me temporarily. When my vision cleared, I saw four men silhouetted against the backlit stage. Slowly, the full house lights came up, revealing the band members.

My eyes tracked appreciati
vely up the lead singer’s body – starting at the black combat boots near eye-level, up past the black denim-clad thighs, and finally settling on the well-sculpted chest filling out a plain black v-neck. An elegant tattoo neatly cuffed one of his biceps and disappeared up under his shirt – a tribal whorl of indiscernible patterns that immediately captured my attention and had me fantasizing about tracing my fingers along the swirling labyrinth of ink.

“Oh, shit,” I heard Lexi mutter beside me; apparently I wasn’t alone i
n my appreciation of the band, and my slow perusal hadn’t even reached his face yet. With that thought, I stopped blatantly ogling his shoulder muscles and moved my gaze higher.

I stopped breathing.

Yes, it was certainly an attractive face – more than simply attractive, if I were honest with myself. He was beautiful, with dark eyes, a chiseled jawline, and a wickedly sexy smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

The same mouth that had insulted me less than 24 hours ago.

Because I was looking up at Finn. And Finn was staring straight back at me.

He mostly looked surprised, but undercurrents of amusement and smug satisfaction played out across his face as he recognized me and my palpable discomfort.  The asshole had obviously just caught me in the process of slowly undressing his body with my eyes, and he couldn't be happier about it
.

Crap
.

I’m sure he registered my look of shock and confusion before I managed to break away from his smug gaze, turning to glare at Lexi. She looked just as
blindsided as I felt.

“I swear I had no idea he was in the band, Brooklyn! I never would’ve made you come if I’d known.” I’d filled Lexi in earlier while she applied my makeup, rehashing all the patronizing remarks he’d made and ultimately concluding that he was a condescending jerk who didn’t deserve any more of my time.

“Maybe he won’t notice us,” I lied futilely, knowing he’d spotted me immediately.

Finn
’s voice crackled over the microphone, startling my attention back to the stage.

“Hey everyone, welcome to Styx. We’re
Apiphobic Treason
, and we’re here to liven up your Monday. Make some noise, people!”

The crowd roared back at him.

“I SAID MAKE SOME FUCKING NOISE!”

The cheers that erupted were even louder th
an before. His presence alone seemed to make most of the girls in the audience go into heat; they were elbowing closer to the stage, pushing out their cleavage, and screaming Finn’s name like he was Tom Cruise or something. And I don’t mean that because I think Tom Cruise is attractive – more so because he’s a crazy religious zealot, and these girls were acting like a hoard of cult-like Scientologist worshippers.

I rolled my eyes at their pathetically t
ransparent ploys for attention.

“Before we begin our set tonight, I just want to issue a little public service announcement on behalf of our beloved university,” he dra
wled sarcastically into the mic. Then, looking down directly at me, he continued, “Apparently the fire hydrants have been really acting up today, so watch where you step as you stumble home tonight.”

The audience laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. I’m not sure
why
they did, since it wouldn’t have made sense to anyone in the club except Lexi and me. Half of them were probably too drunk to notice, and the other half were undoubtedly too busy picturing Finn naked to comprehend his words.

As
Finn laughed into the mic at his own joke, I glared up at him. He sent an infuriating wink back at me before turning to the crowd and launching into an incredibly energetic set.

“Well,” Lexi said, gul
ping. “He definitely noticed us.”

“Crap.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Yes, I desperately wanted to leave. I had no desire to stay here and be
mocked, for the
second
time today, by an egotistical jackass. But I was sure that was exactly what he was expecting me to do – run home, too embarrassed by his comments to stay at Styx.

Well, I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of being right, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to let him chase me away. Plus, if I left, Lexi’s night would be ruined too
.
I just wouldn’t make eye contact with him again, I resolved. It would be fine.

“No. Screw him, we’re staying. Maybe just not, um, so close to the stage,” I responded, bracing my shoulders and quickly downing the remainder of my drink. “And I’m definitely going to need another round.”

“That can be arranged,” Lexi smirked, grabbing my hand and tugging me in the direction of the bar.

We maneuvered our way out of the crowd,
which was now writhing along in harmony with Finn’s voice. To my surprise, he actually sounded great covering one of my favorite Dave Matthews songs, his raspy voice complementing the lyrics perfectly.

“Tyler looks so cute back there behind his drums. And there’s
nothing
bad about a man who knows how to use his hands like that,” Lexi sighed in adoration as we reached the bar, angling her body to look back at the stage. “Such dexterity.”

“This morning you were desperately in love with
Finn,” I reminded her, ordering us another round.

“Ugh, lead singers are
so
egotistical. They just want to talk about themselves all the time. Who does that?” she wondered.

“Oh, I can think of a few people,” I laughed, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Shut up! I do
not
talk about myself all the time. And that’s beside the point! This morning he was beyond rude to me. He actually snatched my phone right out of my hand!”

I continued to chuckle, turning to accept our drinks from the bartender. Holding out a ten, I looked at him questioningly when he didn’t take it from my hand.

“These are on the house,” he said, smiling at me.

“Oh, thanks,” I
replied, surprised at the gesture. I took the drinks and passed one to Lexi. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to. I’m Tim, by the way.” He held his hand out for me to shake.
He was good-looking – definitely cute enough to distract me from my life for a few hours. Maybe I’d let him take me home when the bar closed.

“Brooklyn,” I re
sponded, placing my hand in his.

“Like the city?”

“No, they actually named the city after me,” I joked, rolling my eyes.

“Wait,” he said, clearly confused. “Are you serious?
Is it, like, a family name or something?”

“Thanks for the drink, Tim,” I said, removing my hand from his grasp and trying desperately to keep a straight face.

The giggles finally burst out as I walked away from the bar, Lexi in tow. She broke away from her Tyler-induced fangirl adoration long enough to look down at me.

“What’s so funny? And why aren’t you back there flirting with that bartender? He was cute and you totally could’ve milked him for free drinks all night.”

“He was dumb as a doorpost, Lex.”

“Your standards are way too high,” she complained.

“Lexi, he thought I was serious when I told him a well-known historical borough of New York City is named after me, not vice versa.”

“Okay, so maybe he’s not the brightest bulb in the box, but it’s not like you’re looking for a relationship anyway,” she reminded me, fully aware of my dating policies.

“True, but I like them to have at least above a fourth grade vocabulary and reading level if I’m going to have to spend any amount of time with them.”

“That’s probably a good benchmark,” Lexi noted, giggling.

By this time we’d made our way back to the dance floor, a good distance from the stage but still close enough for Lexi to shamelessly ogle Tyler. The set was lively and upbeat, a mix of well-known cover songs and some unknown stuff that I assumed were their originals. Soon, our alcohol had kicked in and we were dancing wildly with the rest of the crowd, mouthing the words along with Finn as he crooned into the mic.

“
Craaaaash into me,” he sang.

“
Craaaaash into me,” the crowd echoed.

I looked up from dancing for the first time, taking in the sight of the stage, and immediately felt
Finn’s weighty stare on me. My eyes locked with his across the sea of people and the breath caught in my throat.

He was attractive, and he knew it. Worse, there was a heartless edge to him that told me he used his face as a weapon, bending the world to his will one sorority girl at a time. It almost hurt to look at him, like staring directly at a solar eclipse
– something I knew I shouldn't watch, that could potentially damage me in the long run, but was so beautiful that I couldn't quite tear my eyes away. In that moment, it seemed like he was singing only to me; everyone else faded away as I became enthralled by his eyes, the lyrics, the deep rasp of his voice.

Damn it
, he was good. No wonder the sorostitutes didn’t stand a chance.

“Brooklyn! Hello! Come back to earth, girl,” Lexi laughed, pulling me out of my reverie.

“Sorry,” I said, forcing a smile, “I must be drunker than I thought.”

“Well, that just means it’s time for another round!” Lexi exclaimed, heading off in the direction of the bar before I could protest.

The song ended just as we reached the bar. Over the appreciative roar of the crowd I faintly heard Finn announce that the band was taking a quick break. Tim immediately noticed our return and walked toward us, smiling and ignoring the other girls who were trying to place drink orders.

“Back again?” he said, grinning as if I’d come solely to visit him,
rather than get a refill.
Ah yes, Tim, my decision to return was based on an uncontrollable need to see you again. The plethora of alcohol bottles lining the shelves behind you had absolutely nothing to do with it.

“We need another round,” I said, playing along and
plastering on a smile. “Two shots of tequila please, with salt and limes if you’ve got ‘em.”

“Coming right up, babe.”

Babe? Really?
There were few things I hated more than pet names. I mentally gagged before turning to look at Lexi.

“How does my hair look? Is it too frizzy?” she whispered quickly.

“It’s perfect, as always,” I said, briefly scanning her red bob. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Tyler is walking right toward us. Don’t look, idiot!” She scolded, smacking my upper arm when I peered over her shoulder to spot the approaching drummer.