Brooklyn
Nathan has been my best friend since I was five year old. I would never intentionally do something to hurt him, but I have. I don’t know what we are now, are we still friends or did I loose my best friend and my boyfriend all in the same day?
Luca has tried to talk to me at work, but I’ve been avoiding him. I don’t know what to do about him either. I can’t deny that I am attracted to him, but he just isn’t the nice, considerate guy that Nathan is. I don’t know as much about Luca as I do about Nathan. I don’t want to just know the basic stuff like your favorite color and favorite food, I want to know about your family, your childhood, and what makes you who you are. I know all of those things about Nathan and maybe that’s why he feels safe. Luca feels dangerous. I’ve always played it safe in life, but for some reason, I’m drawn to the danger and mystery that comes with Luca.
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I decided that I would go out and grab dinner and bring it back to my apartment. I drive down to the small Italian restaurant that Nathan and I ate at just last week and get my dinner. As I’m walking out to my car, my phone rings. I put my to go back in the backseat and answer the phone. I didn’t recognize the number, but I remember my mother telling me she was getting a new phone number so I figured I would answer just in case it’s her. To my surprise, it’s not my mother, it’s Luca.
“bbrooke is tthat yyou?” He slurs into the phone.
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Is he drunk?
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“Luca?” I say obviously sounding surprised.
“Yyeah, i i wanted tto ttalk to you.” Luca replies.
“Um, are you okay?” I question.
“Yyeah, just ddrunk.” He laughs into the phone.
“You don’t sound okay. Do I need to check on you, make sure your okay?” I ask.
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What am I doing? Why should I care what he’s doing in his free time or if he’s okay or not?
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“Yyeah, baby, you should ccome over.” He replies.
“Don’t call me that.” I snap.
“Wwhat, baby?”
“Yes, don’t call me that.” I respond trying to sound authoritative.
“I I know yyou like it, baby.” He responds, his English accent more apparent in his drunken state.
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Dang that accent, it gets me every time.
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“Think what you want, but I feel like I need to come check on you. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t and something happened.”
“You care about me, Brooke?” He asks confidently.
“No, your wrong. Send me your address.” I respond.
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Is he right? Do I really care about him? What, of course I do. Though I don’t know why I care about this cocky, self centered, jerk, but I do.
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“Sent” He says and then hangs up.
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My phone dings and I put the address into my GPS.
After a longer drive through the city than I had expected, I pull up to a large, modern style house. It’s really pretty, not something I would live in, but pretty. I walk up to the front door and ring the door bell. I’m greeted by a tall man dressed in a suit.
“Hi, um I’m here to see Luca.” I say nervously.
“He’s been expecting you.” He says and invites me inside.
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I enter into a large foyer with a grand staircase. It’s decorated very clean with white furniture.
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“I’ll take your jacket. Luca is in his bedroom.” He says as I had him my coat.
“Where is that exactly?” I ask.
“Upstairs. Third door on the left.” He directs.
“Okay, thank you.” I respond.
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I walk up the large stair case and find the room. I knock on the door a few times, but there is no answer.
“Luca, it’s Brooke, can you open the door?” I shout.
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No answer so I decide to turn the knob and the door opens. When I walk in, the room is dark so I flip on the lights. There is no sign of Luca. I decided to stay in the room just Incase he comes back. I don’t want to roam the house looking for him, that feels a little insensitive. A book shelf in the large, master bedroom catches my eye. He has original copies of some of my favorite novels. I choose Withering Heights off the shelf and take a seat on the small chair beside the large, canopy bed. What seems like hours pass before any sign of Luca. I’m already half way through the book when Luca stumbles into the room, obviously still drunk.
“WWhat are yyou doing here?” He slurs.
“I came to check on you. Where have you been?” I say as I stand up.
“Well ii’m ffine so put my book back and gget out.” He yells.
“What is the matter with you? Why are you always such a jerk?” I spit.
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He looks stunned by my response.
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“Yyour wwhats wrong with me, now gget out.” He yells louder.
“What do you mean me? I don’t make you be a jerk, I don’t hold a gun to your head.” I yell back.
“jjust gget our, Brooke.” He yells and points towards the door.
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I look at him, tear filled eyes and walk out. I walk down the stairs and out the door. Tears rolling down my cheeks and the cold air reminding me that I forgot my jacket. He can have it for all I care. There’s no way I’m going back into that house.
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