Brooke

"You look...different."

I grimace at Nate because I'm already pissed at myself I didn't have the chance to change into Business Brooke after my first date with Joshua. So here I am on the plane in my casual lunch date attire, hair still loosely curled around my face, and boobs a little more pushed up and exposed than normal. Not like they're going to spill from my top, but it's good enough that when I bend over to fix the strap on my shoe before I take my seat on this flight, I catch Nate's eyes drifting south.

I'm also not ready to travel anywhere, but when your boss says she'll pay you double for a weekend wedding event in Lake Tahoe, you do it. Even if you just packed up an impromptu wedding the night before.

Whoever invented "planned elopements" needs to die. It's messing up my mojo.

"I'm sorry I didn't have time to professionalize myself in the ten minutes I had to get here," I say, slamming in the airplane seat next to him. Joshua was a little disappointed I had to reschedule to do brunch instead of a late night dinner, but Ms. Marks requested an earlier flight so her and Morsten could schedule their own venue appointment.

Those two are so darn cute though, I can't complain about that too much.

"I didn't say you looked bad. Just different." Nate adjusts his seat, knocking his arm against mine. For as much money as these people have, you'd think they'd fly us first class, but I guess you take what you can get when you have to fly...well, on the fly.

"Different usually means bad," I argue, mainly because it's fun with him, and it's giving me something to do because I can't look at my damn phone. The flight attendant told me about twenty times just on my walk to my seat to "put it away until the captain tells us it's safe." Then she gave me an overly sweet smile. I wanted to fix the unbuttoned button on her shirt, but instead I reluctantly tucked away my non-stop buzzing cell.

Nate leans his head back, closing his eyes. "You always look good, Brooke. Stop thinking so much."

I look down at my outfit, which I picked out for Joshua, but it's slightly wrinkled from the cab, and I know I'm rocking some sweat along my hairline from rushing to the airport. I give Nate a sideways glance to see if he's giving me crap, but he looks like he's not in the mood to give or receive crap today.

"Thank you." I lean my seat back to be level with him. "So, we have the bachelor and bachelorette parties tomorrow night starting at 7:00." Oh, man, I'm dying to reach for my phone. "I think if we hit the bachelor party for a half hour, then head to the bachelorette we'll be good. The bride will want more pictures than our groom. A few shots of the guys having fun for a bit, then we can get you to our bride and her girls before the guys start getting into trouble. We do not want to be the proof holders of assholery."

He gives me a thumbs up, eyes still closed. I flick him in the forehead, and he rolls his face to mine.

"We have a ton of stuff to go over for this weekend, Nate. Pay attention."

He exhales loudly through his nose. "Look, I slept like hell last night finishing off details for this thing. I need one hour...just give me this one hour flight to sleep, then we can talk business all you want."

"But-"

He pushes a finger to my lips, squishing them to the side of my face. "Shhh...sleep now. Talk later."

When his finger drops, I want to spout off the twenty-seven things I need to flesh out with him before we get to Tahoe, but he turns his head, pulls his beanie over his eyes, and becomes useless to me. How can he sleep on a plane? It's the most uncomfortable thing on this planet. I could probably sleep on a bed of nails and be more comfortable.

I cross my arms and stare at the A/C controls above our seats. There's a smudge on the cold side, and I reach up to wipe it off, but it's a perma-smudge. Oh, that's going to drive me nuts. So I close my eyes and visualize my phone, and everything I need to check off on it. The last itinerary I put in there was Date number 2 w/Joshua!

My first date with the sexy law student rocked. I'm well on my way to second and third. I was going to follow Nate's advice and loosen up, but that just made me freak out, so I went with my way. Sex is planned for date number three, because date number two is all set up for next Wednesday night. After our perfect date one, two, three...we'll be exclusive and I'll ask him to move in a year from now.

Sigh...it's perfect.

I blink my eyes open to Nate. His eyes are still covered by his beanie and his lips are slightly parted. I wonder if he ever went out with Celeste or if his heart is still too broken to do that. He still seems so sad whenever we talk about love and relationships. I wonder how he deals with going to wedding events practically every day, yet he doesn't believe that any of the couples will last. He's romantic as hell-I saw it. But he's so torn up. I don't blame him, I just wish there was something I could do. Maybe tell him I admire his strength, even if he doesn't see himself as strong.

He scares me when his arm moves, and I jump back in my seat, throwing my hand up to my heart. He lifts the beanie up over one eye and looks at me.

"You should sleep too," he says with a smirk, then puts his hat back over his eye.

"I'm not tired."

"You will be with all that thinking. I can actually hear your brain going over there and it's keeping me up. Shut if off for an hour."

I don't think I can. Sleep isn't scheduled until 1:00, if the rehearsal dinner runs smoothly and we're out of there by 11:00. Then I can get in my nightly routine. I really hope so because I need at least six good strong hours of R.E.M. if I'm going to-

"Brooke... Stop. Thinking."

I sock him in the shoulder, but I'm laughing. "I can't sleep on airplanes. The seats are too uncomfortable, and I don't have a pillow."

He whips up the armrest between us and gestures for me to lay on him. I'd give him a look, but his eyes are covered.

After a few seconds of me not moving, he reaches for my arm and pulls me into his side. He feels up to my head, and I laugh when his hand accidentally brushes my right boob on the way and he says, "Shit, sorry." But then he forces my head into the crook of his neck, and I breathe in his cologne and the scruff on his chin tickles my forehead, but in a relaxing way. My lips go automatically up while my eyes automatically close.

His arm falls to my waist and he says, "Now shut up, and sleep."

***

I've never spent the night in a suite before. It's 11:30-the rehearsal dinner went completely awesome and right on schedule-and I'm buzzed. All I want to do is order movies on a giant ass TV. Any hotel I've been to had two queens, a bathroom two feet away, and an ancient A/C. This room is bigger than my apartment.

Sure, I have to share the suite with my boss, her boyfriend, and her son. But still.

Bouncing on the fluffy sofa in my silk pajama shorts and loose spaghetti strapped tank, I flick through the movies and wonder if they'd be okay with me ordering something that's twelve bucks when I could very well go out and see a movie in the theater for cheaper.

I thought everyone hit the hay, but the smell of popcorn filters in, and I softly pad my way to the kitchen area. Nate's dressed in his pajamas, blue bottoms and a grey T-shirt that stretches across his back quite nicely. He's facing the microwave, flicking through pictures on his phone with a spoon hanging from his mouth. He bobs his head like he's got an ongoing playlist in his brain.

I tiptoe behind him, stifling the urge to laugh and give myself away. But before I can grab his sides to make him jump, he whips around, and I'm the one who stumbles backward with a very high-pitched yelp.

"Dammit!" I laugh, and he shakes his head, yanking the spoon from his lips.

"For someone who prepares for anything, you sure scare easy."

I bump my hip into his, shoving him out of the way of the microwave. "Nice of you to make popcorn for me," I joke, listening to the tiny pops from the bag speed up as I watch the timer count down. Thirty seconds left. If the pops stop too soon, I'm taking them out before they burn...

"Are you watching the microwave?"

I nod, not taking my eyes from the timer. The pops are slowing down, and there are still twenty-two seconds.

Nate leans over the back of me, and my stomach gets a little bubbly, but it turns to an all out panic when he sets his hand over the timer.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to peel his fingers from the microwave, but once I do his other hand shoots out to cover it. The popping is really slowing down. Is it even popping anymore? Open the microwave stat and let me see what time it was at so we can shave off those seconds for the next bag.

"I'm making you chill out," he answers, smirking as I try to wrestle him away. "And also, teasing the hell out of you."

"Well, stop it." Why am I smiling at him? This is not funny.

The buzzer goes off, and if the popcorn is burnt I'm blaming him.

He keeps his arms around me as he swings the microwave door open and pulls the bag apart. The smell overtakes us both, and we let out a synchronized sigh.

"Perfect."

He's right, damn it, and I try not to show how much it bugs me that I have to have a plan for everything. Even microwave popcorn.

His warmth leaves my back as he walks to the mini fridge and pulls out...

"There's frosting in there?"

He tosses the Betty Crocker tub from hand to hand and kicks the fridge door shut. "I got it earlier. You can't watch a movie without popcorn and frosting."

I give him a look, because I've been watching movies for years without either of those things.

"Can you rent a movie in your room while someone rents one in the living room?"

"Uh... don't have a TV in my room. I'm watching in there." He nods to the sitting area, and I set my hands on my hips.

"But, I was gonna..."

"Brooke," he says, tilting his head. "We can watch a movie together. It's not like this is one of your pre-planned dates."

He has a point. But why do I feel like it could be a date if I wanted it to be? I'm so not in date attire. I'm not even wearing a bra. We're having popcorn and frosting. And since we had Taco Bell in his office-date one-and then drove to Mesquite-date two-this could technically be date three. If we were dating. But we're not, even though the things going on in my stomach tell me this could be...

"Stop over thinking. Damn, does it ever stop?" He pokes the center of my forehead and gives a slight push. I sock him in the arm, trying not to notice just how hard his bicep is. I'd compliment him on it, but he's being an ass so I keep it to myself.

He grabs his spoon off the counter, sticks it back in his mouth, then kinks his head for me to follow. I snatch napkins up and walk after him. I'm always insistent on walking first so I can set the pace, but as I watch his butt in the pajama pants he's got on, I wonder if I should rethink that policy.

His hand goes for the remote, replacing the popcorn.

"What makes you think you're in charge of that?" I flop on the opposite end of the couch, kicking my feet up. I stick them under his thigh to keep them warm.

He doesn't answer. He flicks through the movies and picks the one movie I wasn't considering. Oh hell no.

"Don't buy..."

You have purchased HALLOWEEN. Enjoy your movie.

"...that."

He smirks, popping open the frosting tub. "You think you can handle it?"

"You're such an ass sometimes." I pull my foot out and kick him once. We laugh and I grab the popcorn and snuggle it to my chest. I'm going to need something to hold and something to eat if I'm going to make it through this.

The opening music plays, and I know I'm going to have nightmares right off the bat. I concentrate on how many popcorn kernels I eat, how many chews it takes before they are so mashed I can't chew anymore. But that doesn't stop me from jumping and screaming bloody murder when the first person is slaughtered in the opening scene. I'm surprised Morsten and Ms. Marks haven't come running from their room to see if I'm still alive.

Nate throws his head back and laughs at me. I'd kick him, but I'm too squished into myself now to move. "I think I'll go to bed now," I croak. I pry my fingers from the popcorn bowl and slowly try to stand.

Nate's hand on my knee stops me. "Don't go to bed. Opening scenes are always scarier than most of the movie."

"Most...not all of it."

The corner of his mouth twitches, and I notice a small bit of chocolate there. Without even thinking about it, I wipe it off with my thumb.

"Tell you what...I'll mute it during the scary parts. The music is what tells your mind it's scary."

"I'm pretty sure it's the guy in a mask pulling a knife out."

He smirks, dipping his spoon in the frosting. "I'll prove it. I'll start playing some romantic shit and I guarantee you'll laugh."

"It's never just 'romantic' to you, is it? It's always romantic 'shit.'"

I was joking, but his face hardens and he sits back, spoon going directly to his mouth. Damn it, I thought that kind of teasing would be okay since he calls me out on my quirks all the time. But I guess it's still a tight nerve. I nibble on my thumb nail and adjust myself on the couch.

"Are you going to share?" I ask with a cock of my head. His eyebrows raise and he sticks his frosting covered spoon out to me. Before I open my mouth, he grabs a piece of popcorn and plops it on the end. I make a face, but he makes one back, and it's weird, but I know he's telling me to trust him without even saying it out loud.

I grab the spoon from him, lick the popcorn and frosting off with confidence because I take on any challenge, and the instant the two collide on my tongue, I cringe. I eat it, because it's so not attractive to spit it out, but I'm well aware I gave away my dislike for frosting and popcorn mashed together.

He laughs as I stick the spoon back out at him. At least I got him back in a good mood.

***

My room is too dark. But I can't sleep with a light on. I keep clicking my phone on to get a sense of my surroundings. I don't want a guy with a mask coming from behind my curtains and slitting my throat. But every shadow makes me jump. Every creak makes me bolt straight to a sitting position. Even silence rings my ears, and now "romantic shit" music plays in my head and I'm thinking I'll get stabbed in the gut. Damn Nate for having such powers of persuasion. I should've let him watch the movie by himself, even if it felt super good every time he put his hand on my ankle and squeezed to let me know when a scary part was about to come on the screen. He's pretty cute humming the wedding march song, too.

Thwump!

Holy shit! What was that?

Aaagh!

Oh hell no no no no no.

I leap from my bed, taking a wire hanger from the closet as my defense and race out of my room and down the hall to Nate.

I rap my knuckles on his door repeatedly, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "Come on, come on, come on," I whisper at the door. "Get your ass out of bed now." I keep my hand knocking while I look over my shoulder every two and a half seconds.

The doorknob moves, and I push my way in, closing it behind me.

"What the...?"

"There's someone in our suite. I heard it in your mom's room. She screamed, Nate. Someone's in there!"

He rubs his eyes, and my heart starts thumping through my throat. I'm not crazy. I heard a freaking murderer in Ms. Marks' room. What if they got to Morsten first? And that's why he's not protecting her. Oh shit, my boss has been murdered!

Nate drops his hand from his eyes. "Wait here. I'll go check it out."

"Take this." I hold out the hanger, and he laughs at it. He opens the door without taking my weapon. Um, I was serious.

I know he told me to wait, but his room is dark too, and I have to know what's going on, so I tiptoe out behind him, wielding my hanger. If anyone tries to jump me, I'll poke their eyeballs out.

Thwump, thwump, thwump!

"I told you," I hiss at his back.

He holds his finger out behind him, and I snap my lips shut.

We sneak down the hallway, and my heart pounds through my ears every step. I can see the headlines now. Wedding planner and party murdered by Michael Myers. If I survive this, I'm putting it in my calendar just to check off "near death experience."

Aaaaah, oooh, yeeeeees!

Nate stops, and I run smack into his back.

"Um, Brooke?" he half whispers. "I'm not going in there."

More, give me more, dammit, more!

Oh...

He turns around, giving me this twisted look on his face, and because I'm so relieved and can't believe I mistook pleasure for pain noises, I let out a laugh.

His brow furrows. "If this was some sick joke of yours..."

"It wasn't, I promise." I punch him in the shoulder. "It's your fault for picking that movie. I've been up all night and my brain's on the nonstop horror station."

He blows out a sigh and shifts his weight. "Okay, if we watch a romance, will that help?"

Probably not, but I don't want to go back to my room alone, and I'm not asking him to sleep in there with me. So I nod.

"Come on, then." He throws his arm around my shoulders and we go back to the TV. Once we sit down, I realize he didn't say "shit" after "romance."

But I don't mention it.