[Quote Aesthetic of the Chapterish]

"Let's go somewhere." Brooks moves his head up to the pillow next to mine. His lips turn up into a smile. "Want to go somewhere with me?"

"Yea? Another walkabout?" I tease.

"Yes. Maybe. I feel like we should get away," Brooks says, his fervor intensifying.

"You always want to get away, Brooks." I roll my eyes. "You can't stay put."

"Fine. Forget it," Brooks says, his voice spoiling. "We'll be boring."

"I'd hardly say we're boring," I say, defensively. We are traipsing around the country carrying on this torturous long-distance thing.

"Sure," Brooks says, like he's not even listening. Or at the very least like he doesn't believe me.

"What's wrong?" I ask, peering across the space between our pillows.

"Nothing's wrong. It's just –I just want to do everything with you. We could go. Leave tomorrow and not worry about whose turn it is to visit who." Brooks's thumb traces over my bottom lip. "Not worry about anything."

"Tempting." I nudge him with my elbow. "What are you worried about?"

The real world. Breaking up. Sharks.

"I'm not worried." Brooks shakes his head into his pillow. "I could just use a break."

"A break from what?" I keep my voice quiet, but it sounds so loud. So judgy. I wonder what Brooks could possibly need a break from. Surfing? Running his own company? Making his own hours? Flying wherever he wants?

"Just –everything. Maybe." Brooks plays with my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "Everything but you."

His hand pulls my head to his and without warning I am losing myself in our kiss. It's an eighth-grade make-out sesh and I'm not mad about the PG-13. It's oddly comforting. Like I'm with Old B when he was too afraid to take off my bra or when he didn't know how.

I break apart from him long enough to catch my breath. Looking into his face, it's impossible to deny him. I roll my eyes and give in.

"Where would we go?" I indulge him. "Some exotic island? Remote cabin?"

"I'm thinking more Europe," Brooks says, matter-of-factly.

"That's broad."

"It's abroad," he smirks.

"Trans-Atlantic walkabout." I pretend to be thinking out loud. "There're so many options. It's too hard to choose where."

"So we'll go without knowing where. Destination is the death of adventure."

"Deep." I tease. "How about London?" I suggest. "Easy when they speak English."

"Well, that's no fun."

"Rome?" I ask. "Think of all the pizza."

"Amsterdam?" He raises his eyebrow.

"Mhm. Think of all the drugs." I laugh.

"I picture us in Paris. In some crowded arrondissement, view of the Eiffel Tower from the balcony. Lots of wine. Lots of walks along the Seine." Brooks almost sounds lost inside his head. I'm lost there too.

"Is that your dream-want?" I ask him, my palm resting on his chest.

"It's one of them," Brooks says, looking at me with his stormy sea-foam eyes.

"And how long's our little trip?" I ask, playful, continuing the grand plan-making charade.

"A year?" He asks, shrugging.

"An entire year!" I gasp. "What about life –like hmm, both our businesses and family and –THE wedding!"

"Don't worry. They have yoga in Paris." Brooks laughs, pinching my side to tickle me.

"And the wedding? Planning to ditch that?" I scoff.

"We leave after the wedding," he says confidently, like the departure date for our make-believe trip should be obvious to me.

"Of course. Trix and Travis get married and we take a honeymoon." I laugh.

"Exactly," Brooks says.

"Are you sure you won't tire of me after a year?" I joke, my stomach secretly lurching at the fact that he is thinking that far ahead into our future.

"Nah," he says. "And if I do, there will be plenty of countries to ditch you in."

"It's nice to think about," I say quietly.

"It is." Brooks squeezes me in agreement. "Say yes."

"Yes?" Does he mean right now?

"Say you'll run away with me, Ems." Brooks kisses my shoulder, looking at me with intense eyes. I think I can feel how much he wants me.

"I would do anything with you." I nod. Like for real, Romeo and Juliet style I'd die with him. Prob best I'll keep that to myself for now.

We enjoy the silence, eased into a sleepy stupor by the soft pitter-patter of rain on the industrial windows.

///

"He stayed an extra day? Again?" Trix is laughing through the phone.

"Yea yea." I sigh into the phone. Brooks has already stayed one extra night and has definitely booked his flight down to LA. He leaves tomorrow.

"And you're going to see him when? Next week?" Trix asks.

"Two weeks. Valentine's Day." My voice sound weird, like it's trying to conceal excitement.

"Mhmm." Trix sighs and cat-calls. "Watch it or you guys'll be next."

"Relax, babe. It's just a weekend." I say, looking over at Brooks in the kitchen.

He waves me over and I nod.

"–Just a weekend my ass. I wanna hear about it. And don't think–"

"Gotta go, Trix. Love ya!" I shout over her.

I don't wait to hear Trix whine about hanging up on her. I heard Travis in the background so I don't feel bad about ditching the call.

The kitchen smells delicious. Almost like when the guys cooked dinner at the cabin. I sit down at the breakfast bar and Brooks places a plate in front of me.

"Bon appetit," Brooks grins.

"Practicing your French?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Maybe."

We eat dinner quickly before traipsing around the loft locating items of Brooks's overnight bag. It sits packed in the corner by the door. The only things left out are the V-neck and gym shorts he plans on wearing to the airport in the morning.

I turn on the radio and undress, dropping my clothes in the basket by my door. Some old Pink song is playing, reminding me of high school. As if I needed another reminder besides my ex naked in my bathroom. Who Knew, indeed.

The shower is already steaming up the mirror when Brooks pulls me into the tiny bathroom and under the scalding hot water. It feels nice with his pressure against me, pinning me to the wall and lifting my leg around his waist.

"Brooks," I moan quietly into him.

He buries his face into my hair. Hot water runs against his back and down our legs. I feel him push into me, feel his strong arm reach beneath my leg and dig into my ass.

I left the radio on and I'm unwilling to get up to turn it off now. The volume is low, but I can still hear the tune playing. Why Don't We's What Am I. Vibes and a half.

Brooks falls asleep before me. I lay against his chest, rising and falling with his deep breaths, and I can feel the ache in my bones. It's an ache that's been building for a decade. Longer even. I could lay this way with a hundred men but not even notice. With him, I don't want to miss a minute.

I'm replaying this whole weekend in my head before I'm imagining what next weekend has in store –before I'm wondering if Brooks has anything planned for V Day. Before I can help it, my mind drifts to Paris. It's an image I can see too clearly.

We sleep in all day and stroll the old streets late at night. There's A lot of walkabout talk. A lot of wine. A lot of sex. There's the Louvre and Eiffel and gardens at Versailles. There's the way the sunlight reflects off the Seine, illuminating the sea-foam waters of Brooks's eyes.

People see us –envy us –want to be us.

I want to be us.

Forget a year –I'd spend my entire life abroad with him.