Noah Silas Anderson

Chapter Forty-six: "The thrill of it all"

I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine. My eyes squinted and I groaned at the bright ass natural sunlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

In walked Brooklyn with a bowl of fruit. She smiled at me in nothing but a pair of shorts. Her hair was fluffy and all of the place.

"Good morning," she said softly, putting the bowl down. She crawled up to me and kissed my face.

"Morning," I said back. She giggled and pressed her lips to mine. I wrapped her in my arms, smoothing the hair out of her naked face.

"Stop kissing me," I warned, breaking the kiss.

"Why?" She pouted, "you love my kisses."

I chuckled, stealing one more. "That's the problem."

Brooklyn put on a shirt and walked me out of her bedroom after I got dressed, too. She threw me a practice volleyball short-sleeved shirt that I pulled on and complained when it barely fit.

"What time is it?" I asked, looking for my phone.

"Nine o'clock," she told me.

"Jesus, it's so early, why am I up? I think I'm still drunk," I said staring at the window, "did we have a good night?" The reason we woke up so early was because the natural light and sounds of city traffic down below.

Brooklyn sat on the stool and her face fell. "You did," she told me.

I furrowed my eyebrows, scratching my stomach. "What I do?"

"I saw you hooking up with some girl at the party," Brooklyn told me, "you have a thing for bathrooms."

"Who was it? I didn't kiss her, did I?"

Brooklyn shrugged, starting to clean the stuff off the island. "I don't know. When I walked in, she was on her knees."

"I'm sorry," I said plainly.

"Don't apologize to me," Brooklyn voiced quietly, clearing the dishes out of the sink.

"Well I'm sorry you saw that."

"Sorry I saw it, or sorry you did it?"

I looked back at her in the eyes and said, "Sorry you saw it."

Brooklyn stopped the water running in the sink and sighed. "You don't remember anything from last night?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Not really, no." When I said that her eyes disconnected like she was zoning out of the conversation or her feelings.

"Okay," she breathed out, tucking the hair behind her ear.

"I gotta go, I have a test due," I announced, grabbing my phone and wallet off the countertop.

Brooklyn nodded, showing me to the door. "I have a big game tomorrow," she told me.

"I don't know if I'll make it, Zane's been on my ass. He-"

"Okay, that's fine," she smiled, "I don't need you there, I was just asking."

I yawned at work, nothing was happening. Lily, at the bar, noticed my boredom and laughed.

"Why am I here?" I asked, joking. My arms flailed and she shrugged, cleaning a glass.

I discretely checked my phone and saw Brooklyn didn't text me all day. Expected, she's probably pissed about whatever the fuck I did last night. I hate that I couldn't remember but I'm sure I had a good time, then.

My stomach growled and I popped into the girl's dressing room. Luckily, no one was in there or I would've got cussed out. Well, no one except Mina.

"Mina, girl, what you doin'?" I beamed, walking to her desk.

"Uh uh, Noah, what you want? I don't got time for your shit now," she nagged.

"Minaaaa," I grinned, prolonging the pronunciation of her name.

She smacked her lips, letting me throw my arm over her shoulder. "Okay," she agreed with a smile, already knowing what I wanted.

She revealed this big bin of assorted snacks that the girls usually had to pay for. I rubbed my hands together and grabbed some chips and a bag of M&Ms.

"Thank you," I cooed with a giddy smile, walking out.

"Mm-hmm," she sounded, shooing me out before someone walked in.

"Mina, I-" Brooklyn let out, entering the room. We stood in the doorway, staring each other down.

I didn't know what to say because I wasn't sure how she was feeling about me today.

"Noah," she breathed out.

"Bottle girl," I returned dryly, letting her through. She sucked her teeth and stomped by me.

As I walked down the hallway, a pair of hands tried pulling me in another direction.

"Natalie, what the fuck," I barked, snatching my arm back.

"Sorry," she whispered, "but I need to talk to you."

"I thought I told you I'm done with you?"

"You were serious?" she asked and I nodded. "Well, we don't have to talk. Take your clothes off-"

"No, Natalie, damn," I exclaimed, stepping back. "What's with you women and your sex drives? I'm not a machine, I have feelings, too," I stopped and laughed at myself for a second. "No, but seriously, Natalie, leave me alone."

"Noah, you're such an asshole. Oh, this is about Malibu Barbie, isn't it?"

"She's from Texas," I corrected Natalie in a mumble.

Natalie looked shocked. "You're getting too comfortable," she warned me and I just rolled my eyes.

"A-hem," Courtney snuck up and cleared her throat. Natalie assumed she wasn't needed and walked away.

"Yes, your highness?"

Courtney scoffed, "Zane wants to talk to you."

I stomped down the staircase with Courtney following close behind. "Am I in trouble? I can't take another beating or I swear to God-"

She stopped and squared my shoulders as we stood outside of his office. "Just go in there and listen, try not to be an asshole - for once."

"Is Vince in there?" I asked and Courtney nodded. I cursed under my breath and pushed the door open to walk inside, presenting myself to Zane and his clan.

"Thank you, Courtney," Zane said to his assistant, letting her leave the room.

"Noah, my boy," he gawked. "Take a seat."

I glared at Vince before I sat. "What's this about?"

"Are you rushing me, Anderson?" He called me by my last name. I spread my legs in the chair and shook my head, letting him get on with it.

"How are you?" he asked calmly.

I clenched my jaw, getting angry. This can't be serious, I thought. He's really asking me about how I'm doing?

"I'm alright. How are you?"

"I ask the questions around here. Now, how's the girl?"

I blinked, throwing up my arms in frustration. "What girl?"

"Brankovich; the one you're supposed to be watching. You are watching her, aren't you?"

"That's what you told me to do, so."

Zane cut his eyes from me to the monitors where he scanned the floor for Brooklyn. He spotted her and zoomed in, smirking at me.

It was lingerie night so the girls were dressed up a little more sexy and revealing than normal. Brooklyn wore red, you could see all of her tattoos and more than I wanted other people to see of her.

Her silky hair was in waves down her back and her lips were painted matte red to match. We watched as some man handed her a rose. She took it, smiling, and walked away sniffing the flower.

"She's beautiful," Zane said, "She's trouble, but, beautiful." Tell me about it.

"Courtney," Zane called out for his assistant. Having heard him through the cracked door, Courtney entered.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have Brooklyn come see me," he ordered, cracking his knuckles. I tried not to display my discomfort and sudden opposition, but I grew nervous on the inside.

Not too long later, Brooklyn entered. She covered herself with a sheer mini robe with feathers and looked around the room. She swallowed and acknowledged Zane who smiled at her sleazily.

"How are you," he paused, "Brooklyn?"

She adjusted her stance and wore a plastic smile. "I'm alright."

He spoke in iffy Spanish, a language she was fluent in.

Brooklyn exhaled deeply and returned in the language.

Zane nodded, locking his fingers then I saw his head bobbed in my direction and Brooklyn glared at me. I was mad, and curious, since I couldn't understand them.

Zane concluded, gesturing his hand for Brooklyn to leave his office and she did. Once she was gone, Courtney held the door open and Zane told me to leave, too.

*** The Next Day ***

"Brooklyn Brankovich, in number ten for the white, with a big block," the male commentator roared, chuckling, and added, "oh, and she's pumped with a little celebration there after that point!"

"You've gotta love her athleticism and energy out there, Bill," the woman noted as the crowd recovered from the big play. "She's really fun to watch, tonight is her night."

It's true, Brooklyn was on fire. She won the team the second set with that block and then they switched courts for the third.

As soon as the game started, their setter served a flat ball over that the opposing team struggled to return. However, they did.
The libero on Brooks team passed it to the setter who set it to Brooklyn. Everyone arose with anticipation after a chant as Brooklyn took her approach.

"WHAT A KILL FROM BRANKOVICH!" Bill raved, hyping the stadium.

"Back-to-back! She is a stud out there," Sam commented, "with the set-ending point, and the first kill of this third set; off to a great start!"

Gael, Emereigh, and I went crazy in the stands. Cassie did, too, even though she didn't know a thing about sports. I put Emereigh on her feet because she was on my neck and the people behind us were getting on my nerves with their complaints.

"YAY," Emmers cheered, "did Brooks get a point?"

"Yeah, she did!" I shook Em by her shoulders. We all wore big grins in excitement for Brooklyn during this rivalry game.

But the crowd went silent. I stared around wondering what was wrong when Bill came on the speakers. "I don't know, folks, number ten - Brooklyn Brankovich- is seen limping here after that last kill for the Sharks," he talked.

The woman, Sam, followed up with, "Yeah, Bill; we're seeing the instant replay and you can see how she comes down awkwardly on that left knee, it looks like."

Cassie wore the look of sorry on her face that we all felt. I mean, they're losing their best player if she's hurt. And, if she is hurt, what if she can't work? There's no way Zane will let her have time off. I'm hoping it's something minor, but you never know.

An applause came when Brooklyn was helped onto her feet and walked to the back rooms, probably to be looked at by a trainer.

"Hey, Noah," Kacey called for me at the bottom of the bleachers. "right - Brooklyn's friend? Aren't you a trainer, think you can help?"

I furrowed my eyebrows and paused for a second before agreeing and following her to the locker rooms.

"We have a trainer, but I know Brooklyn trusts you and you seemed like you knew what you were doing; you know, with the tape and all. Thank you, by the way," she said, smiling. Before the game, I wrapped her wrist and the other girls asked for help, too.

"What are you doing getting hurt, number ten?" I tried to laugh, looking down at Brooklyn lying on the med table.

She smiled small then it faded away. "Are you going to take care of me now?"

***

"Get out," I said to Brooklyn as soon as I parked the car in Frank's parking lot. She yawned and pushed the door open.

"You're walking fine," I told her, hoping she'd cheer up.

"I'm fine, Noah, it's just pain and a little swelling, it'll go away," she grumbled, walking inside. Obviously Brooklyn wasn't happy about the injury that took her out of the big game in the beginning of the third set, and she'd be missing a couple practices to rest.

"Hey, honey, we don't open 'til-" Frank tried stopping Brooklyn at the entrance of his gym.

I walked in after her and waved stiffly at him. "It's just me. Frank, this is Brooklyn," I introduced them.

He came from behind the counter and shook her hand. "I watched your game last night on YouTube," Frank spoke, "you're phenomenal. Shame about the, uh, leg. What did they say about it?" She looked down and shrugged.

"Patellar tendinitis," I told him, "-jumper's knee. We're just gonna stretch then use the small gym for some drills."

"Alright, you know your way around. Don't work her too hard, Noah," Frank chuckled, turning on some music.

I nodded my head towards the back so Brooklyn would follow. As we descended down the hall, I laughed at Frank and said, "Oh, I will!"

*

"Why sports training?" Brooklyn asked me as I put ice on her right knee.

"The other one," she told me and I corrected the placement.

"Uh, I don't know. I like sports and it seemed interesting, I've always had a thing for helping people and playing doctor. Plus, when I was in high school, the school's P.T. was hot so I'd always go to her office before practice and talk to her, steal some ice, or have her check me out."

Brooklyn laughed, sitting back on her elbows. "Typical."

I hunched my shoulders. "Well, turns out I like it, and I think I'm pretty good at it. I don't see you complaining?"

"No," Brooklyn sighed, "it's nice: you taking care of me this time. My only complaint is personal, not professional."

I backed against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest like my ankles. "Oh yeah?" She nodded at my questioned and I continued. "What's that?"

"This treatment you're giving me, the hot and cold, I'm getting pretty tired of it," she said.

I adjusted my hat and chuckled. "It's just ice," I played dumb.

She smacked her lips and removed the ice bag. "Fine, if you don't want to talk about it, we won't. I'll drop it," she barked, lying down and covering her eyes with her arm.

I didn't say anything, a minute of silence passed where I just stared down at her. Her straight hair was in a long, sloppy ponytail and all she had on was practice gear; a tucked in t-shirt, her Adidas socks, black leggings, and finger tape.

It was seven-thirty in the morning, she didn't want to get up but I forced her. I wanted to get her stretched properly and do some preventive exercises before the injury got worse. It was just some pain and swelling in the knee/shin from the repetitive jumping motions (the hitting/spiking, serving, and blocking). She should be fine in a few days to some weeks - hopefully days.

Brooklyn removed her arm and sat up. When she did, I stole a kiss and she scrunched her nose, inching back.

"I hate you. Stop doing that," she whispered, tucking the loose hair behind her ear. She licked her lips and tried hard to avoid eye contact.

I threw the bag of ice away and checked the time.

"Lay back, leg up," I ordered. Right away, she did as told and I pushed her leg as far back as it could go before she get any pain. Forgetting she did ballet, I was surprised by how flexible she was, and put her knee to her chest.

Brooklyn exhaled the tension from the stretch and kept her eyes closed shut.

"Do what?" I finally asked what she meant

She turned to face me, our noses an inch or two apart, and blinked rapidly.

"Act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

"What did Zane say to you at the club?" I changed the subject.

"He asked how I was getting along and if you were being good to me," she said.

I came up and dropped her leg, switching to the other side.

"Further," she insisted I push harder so I did.

"What did you say?" I asked hesitantly.

"I said you were okay."

"Just okay?"

"At work, yes. At home, eh."

"Eh?" I chuckled.

"Everything's confusing, I don't know what we're doing."

I sighed and looked away from her lips for a second.

The door busted open all of a sudden and I glared up to see who it was. Frank.

He raised one of his thick eyebrows at me and asked, "Uh, what's going on here?"

"Just stretching, Frank," I told him honestly, helping Brooklyn to sit up.

"Uh-huh," he sounded, "I used that line before. Just letting you know I put the balls in the small gym and raised the net, yer all set." I nodded, silently thanking him so he could leave.

"Get it," Frank laughed, looking between Brooks and I who shook our heads, "'set?' Ah, volleyball humor."

***

"We can do some hitting drills if you want, or work on your serve," I offered, passing a ball to myself.

Brooklyn pulled her knee pads up and scoffed. "What do you know?"

I titled my head at the challenge and pushed her out of the way so I could get ready to serve. It's been a while but I knew I could still do it.

With one hand, I gave the ball a high toss and then powered into it, sending the ball clear over the net, landing just before the line in the back corner - exactly where I wanted it to.

I turned to look back at Brooklyn who's jaw was dropped. I snatched the ball from her hands and picked her chin up.

"Come on, kneecaps," I joked, "you're up."

*

"Okay, fuck this," Brooklyn spat, "I'm done, it hurts." She sat down on the bleacher and removed her shoes and knee pads.

I chucked the ball into the basket and walked over to sit beside her.

"This is annoying," she complained.

"What, the drill? We can do something else, you need to work on passing, too," I joked, earning a nudge.

She smacked her lips and released her hair from the falling ponytail. "I'm not talking about the volleyball, I'm talking about you. I feel like, I don't know, there's something I'm doing wrong, or something. Like, you've been holding back or we've lost whatever it is we had between us," Brooklyn confessed.

"What, no? We're good, everything's fine-"

She looked at me like I was dumb. "That's the thing: one second we're all over each other, then the next it's like 'this is wrong' and we have to act like we barely know each other exists. I know we can't do this - at least at work anyway - so why keep leading each other on? What's the point, Noah? We hook up, you go to my games like we're some fucking happy couple, and we don't even like each other. Then- you know what, I don't even want to get into this. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. Now I sound crazy, l-like I'm trying to force myself on you. Can we just go?"

I had no idea what to say back to any of that. She was right, I think? But it was all over the place and she didn't seem to want to talk about it anymore.

Brooklyn picked up her bag and and slipped into her slides, heading towards the door.

When I didn't follow her right away, she stopped and flailed her arms. "Well, are you coming, or what?"