Romeo reached out the put a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, Brook. No one told me. I just saw it on your face. If it’s any comfort, it’s written all over his face too. He obviously likes you back.”
Brooklyn shook her head. “No, that’s not true. He’s never made a move when he could, plus today, I saw him making out with Alexia.” Brooklyn shuddered. “I feel like my heart is being ripped into tiny pieces.”
Romeo shrugged. “So tell him. Tell him you like him.”
Brooklyn gasped. “No. I know it’s outdated, but he should be the one to ask me. What if he tells me he doesn’t like me back? What if—“
“Do you want me to ask him?” Romeo asked.
“No. No, absolutely not. You promised not to breathe a word of this to anyone.”
Romeo put both hands up. “Okay, whatever you want, Brook. But I’m here. You know that. You can tell me anything.”
Brooklyn nodded. “I know. Thanks.”
“So, other than your tragic love life, what’s up?” Romeo asked.
Brooklyn laughed. “Nothing, but there’s something up with you. Why was Ty in such a hurry to leave, huh? He seemed like a nice guy.”
“Yeah, well, he seemed to think you were more than just a nice girl. Just like the rest of them.” Romeo mumbled.
“What?” Brooklyn asked, mystified.
Romeo shook his head.
“Hey, you have to tell me. An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart. I poured mine out to you; now you have to do the same,” Brooklyn told him.
“Fine. You know, I don’t have friends. Any real friends.”
“What?” Brooklyn said, startled. “You have tons.”
“No, Brook. You have admirers who pretend to be my friends just to get to you. I’ve never had a real friend who liked me. Ty was just like all the rest,” Romeo mumbled, half angry, half sad.
Brooklyn stared at her brother, openmouthed. This had never occurred to her before. “You are amazing, Romeo. People will love you for you. And if they don’t, then you don’t need them. You don’t need Ty.”
“But Brook—“
“I don’t want to hear it. I bet you have people waiting to be your friends. No relative of mine has no friends. And you’re my brother.”
“But that’s the point. I want to be Romeo Ryder. Not Brooklyn Ryder’s brother,” Romeo said.
“And you are. You just need to find out who Romeo is and show the world,” Brooklyn told him.
* * * * *
Averil opened her eyes the next morning, feeling cold despite the swath of blankets around her. That’s what it was always like, waking up in New York in the winter, and she didn’t mind it. In fact, she sort of liked it. When her blurry, sleepy eyes came to focus, she stood up, made her bed, and tied her hair into a messy bun. Finally, she padded into the kitchen where a cup of coffee and an already wide-awake Simon awaited her.
“Hey,” she said sleepily.
“Hey, Rill,” he said, using the nickname he often call her.
Averil sat down and put her head down on the kitchen counter. “I’m so tired,” she said, through her arms.
“Well, your feet seem to be better, since you’re walking on them.” Simon commented.
Averil looked down at her small pale feet and suddenly remembered everything that had happened yesterday — Ms. Tussan’s yelling at all the students and making them stay two hours later, then meeting that boy, Ty. Or rather, crashing into him.
“Yeah,” Averil said, flexing her feet. “They feel better. In fact, it’s Saturday. I’m going to go to the bookstore and read at the coffee shop,” she said, spontaneously making her plans.
“OK. Want me to come? I can write and you can read,” Simon asked hopefully.
“Sure. I’m gonna go to Painters & Co. first, but I’ll meet you there,” she said. Averil loved going to Painters & Co. and staring at all the beautiful paintings. She couldn’t paint, but the paintings themselves spoke to her.
She went to her room and changed into a black coat and jeans and walked to the door. She was just about to open it when Simon wrapped a grey scarf around her neck. “Don’t freeze, okay?” he said, and kissed her on the cheek.
“Yeah,” she said, waving to him as she walked out. Averil walked along the busy, lively streets until she got the familiar red brown building with the roof that slanted almost to the ground. It had such a country feeling to it, and Averil always felt like it had been uprooted from some place like Tennessee and planted in New York.
She walked in and felt the warmth from the heater hit her cold, icy hands. Ms. Romanoff, the owner, as well a friend since she came there so often, greeted her. “Averil, darling, it’s been so long. Two days! How did you stay away from me that long!” she laughed. Averil laughed too.
She turned to stare at her favorite piece, a wine glass with pictures of women faintly painted onto it, but there was someone already staring at it. The back of his curly hair was so familiar. Averil walked closer and saw, to her surprise, that it was Ty. “Ty!” she exclaimed.
He turned around. He was wearing a dark brown trench coat and leather gloves. “Hey, Averil. What are you doing here?”
“I can’t paint for my life, but I love looking at paintings. I’m here so much that Ms. Romanoff is the person I see most often, other than my roommate, Simon,” Averil told him.
“Oh. Well, I love anything that has to do with painting, so—” Ty said.
“I remember,” she said. “Mr. Art Scholarship.”
He laughed. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
“Yeah, you too.”
“I love this piece.” he said.
“Me too. I always have. I think I come down here a lot just to make sure no one has bought it. I would, but it’s really expensive, and I can’t afford it.” Averil told him.
“Same, so you can cross me off your potential buyers list. One less person.”
“Yes, my heart is lighter now,” Averil laughed. So did Ty.
“Hey, you want to go to the Modern Art Museum together? I have two tickets for today’s exhibit and I was going to go alone, but—” Ty said.
Averil looked uncertain. She had said she would meet Simon, but they could do that tomorrow, right? How else was she going to get to go the Museum? Tickets were expensive. “I told Simon I’d meet him, so let me just call and cancel. Then I’m all yours.” she said.
“Great,” Ty said, feeling his heart lift. He’d almost forgotten about Brooklyn, and he really liked Averil. Maybe if he introduced her to Romeo as his girlfriend, Romeo would understand that he liked him for him, not his sister. Brooklyn was undoubtedly beautiful, and he felt a magnetic pull to her. But as he looked back at Averil, he wasn’t so sure about Brooklyn.
Averil pulled out her cell phone and called Simon. “Hello?”
“Rill? I’m just leaving. Am I late? We never really set a time, but I’m sorry if I am,” Simon said in an apologetic tone. Averil pulled on a thread in her coat, feeling guilty. She looked up and saw Ty watching her, a smile playing at his lips, but then she imagined Simon, at home, waiting to meet her.
“No, Simon, I’m sorry. Can we do dinner instead? You pick. I got an invite to the Modern Art Museum and I really want to go,” Averil said. She saw Ty’s smile widen.
There was a pause on the other side. Then a sigh. “Sure, but you can pick. Who are you going with?”
“Ty? Remember? The guy from yesterday,” Averil said.
Simon sounded different when he spoke again, his voice steely like she’d never heard it before. “Have fun,” he said, and then hung up. She wondered if he was mad. Their arrangement had been so informal anyway, and he was her best friend. He should be okay with one cancel, right?
She put her phone in her purse and looked up at Ty. “Let’s go,” she said.
He led her out and she scanned the parking lot for a car. But there were only two – Ms. Romanoff’s and hers. At the end of the lot was a shiny black motorcycle. “Where’s your car?” sh
e asked.
Ty smiled.
“Wait. You drive a motorcycle? You’re a really smart painter plus a badass motorcycle driver?” Averil said.
“Yeah, totally. Did you think I was a softie? No way. I wear spiky leather belts and listen to heavy metal. Totally,” Ty joked.
“Ewww, I hate heavy metal,” Averil groaned.
“Actually, me too. I love country for some reason,” he told her.
“Oh, I do too. Pop is second, then classical piano,” Averil said.
Ty helped her on the bike and got on in front of her. He whirred the engine to life and she felt the vehicle rumble underneath him. “Hold on,” he told Averil, and he felt her wiry thin arms wrap around his waist. She fit into him perfectly.
Averil reveled in the feel of her hair flying behind her as they soared through the streets. She felt like she was looking at the city for the first time, in a whole new way.
When they arrived, she was almost disappointed to get off. She had fallen in love with Ty’s shiny black motorcycle. He helped her down and they started up the front steps, somehow hand in hand.
* * * * *
Simon put down his cell phone and took off his shoes. He sat down on the floor, cross legged, like he always did when he was upset. But only Averil knew that. At the thought of her, he felt a pang in his heart. He’d always known that he was meant for her. His mind, body, and soul, as he liked to put it, were entwined in hers. They belonged to each other. But now, he wasn’t sure that Averil could see that. With this new guy she had met and all the boyfriends she’d had before, Simon had felt terrible just hearing about them, but he couldn’t work up the courage to tell Averil how he really felt. To tell her that he loved her. Always had and always would.
He picked himself up. Even if Averil wasn’t here, he could still do the other thing he loved best. Writing. He put his shoes back on and picked up his laptop. He could go and write at the coffee shop near the bookstore anyway. Averil went there so often that maybe he would feel like she was there. It was worth a shot. And besides, he was never lonely with the characters he had created in his head.
He walked to Dean & Deluca’s in the bitter cold, wondering how he had ended up spending Christmas day alone. At least, there was dinner with Averil to look forward to. He heard the bell trill as he walked into the coffee shop and felt the comforting warmth of the indoors seep into him. Simon inhaled the unmistakable scent of coffee, feeling oddly at home. He sat down after ordering a large black coffee and took a long sip, feeling the caffeine run through his veins, giving him a rush of energy and awakening his body.
He began typing, lost in his own world, with the only brief reminders of the present being the strong smell of coffee in front of him. It had been why Averil started making him drink coffee in the first place. To keep him grounded when she wasn’t around.
It was the sound of clicking high heels that ripped him away from his work eventually. They belonged to a slender, wiry thin girl with long auburn hair. She wore an expensive looking blue coat and black pencil skirt, and her black heels were at least four inches. Averil never wore heels that big. Hanging on her left hand was a leather Gucci purse, and around her neck hung a large necklace with the letters BEAUTY adorning it. Whoever had given it to her was completely correct. She was beautiful, with sharp, delicate features and a spray of faint freckles on the pale skin across her face. Simon couldn’t help staring at her. She turned around to leave and suddenly he felt a spurt of insane courage. He knew that if she left, he’d never see her again. This was his chance.
He jumped up and sprinted to her. She stared at him. “Hi,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Simon.”
She looked at him like he was insane. “And?” she said expectantly. He felt kind of stupid talking to her in his old jeans and faded T-shirt that said “Just call me Dr. Awesome,” when she was dressed like she was going to the White House.
“I, um. I was going, um—“ Simon started.
“Do you have anything to say? I don’t like standing here,” she said impatiently.
“Would you like to sit with me?” Simon asked instinctively, though mentally cursing himself. This must seem so weird to her.
She looked at him, her head slightly tilted. “That was a really weird invitation, but—” she checked her watch, “I have one hour to kill, so unless you’re a stalker or a serial killer, sure.”
“Definitely not. I’m just a little old high school boy,” Simon countered.
She raised an eyebrow, but smiled. “You have no idea how dangerous high school boys can be.”
“I’m a softie, I promise. I’m a writer.”
She sat down opposite him. “I’m Brooklyn, by the way.”
“You’re from Brooklyn, really? You don’t look like it,” Simon said, eyeing her brand name clothes.
She rolled her eyes. “No. My name is Brooklyn and I most definitely am not from Brooklyn. I live on the Upper East Side.”
“Oh,” Simon said. He shut his laptop and took a sip from his drink. “You in high school?”
“Yes. I go to Vincent’s Academy,” she said.
Simon started. Averil went there. Maybe she knew her? “Oh, my friend, Averil Scott, goes there. Do you know her?”
Brooklyn searched through her mental list of contacts. No, she didn’t know an Averil Scott. It was surprising, though. Her family knew all the rich people in New York, and you had to be rich to go to Vincent’s. “I don’t think so,” Brooklyn said.
“Oh,” Simon said. He watched Brooklyn now, staring out of the window. Then suddenly, her face changed to horror and she gasped. “What?” he asked, but she waved him to be quiet and stood up surprisingly fast in her heels.
Simon followed her gaze. There was no one out there except a man and a woman, in a passionate embrace, celebrating Christmas, and a bunch of empty cars. What had gotten her so worked up? He stood up and put an arm on her shoulder. In her heels, they were the same height.
“Get your hands off me. I don’t even know you,” she said angrily.
Simon should have been hurt, but he knew she was upset, probably irrational. “Brooklyn? What’s wrong?”
And then, suddenly, she burst into tears, sobbing, still watching from the window. Then she turned away and buried her head in his shoulder. He went rigid in surprise. When she finally came up again, tears were still silently streaming down her face. “That was my father,” she finally said.
Simon looked at her, still confused.
“That man in the parking lot was my father. And the woman that he was—he was with—she wasn’t my mother.” Brooklyn cried.
Simon wrapped his arms around this girl he barely knew, holding her small body in his arms. Finally, she stepped out of his embrace. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know you, and here I am, crying all over you. I bet this is really attractive.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I get it, you know. My parents are divorced because my mom cheated. I wasn’t the one who caught her, but I get it,” Simon said soothingly. Sometimes, when you were in pain, you just needed to know that someone else was in pain as well.
“Who do you live with, then?” Brooklyn asked, trying to distract herself.
“Neither of them. A year ago, Averil moved out of her house, and I didn’t want to have to choose my mom over my dad or the other way, so I just moved into an apartment with her,” Simon told Brooklyn, though he wasn’t sure why she wanted to know.
“Wait, is she just your friend though?” Brooklyn asked, confused. Simon had called her his friend, but he lived with her. That was weird.
“Yeah,” Simon said, blushing. “I know it’s unconventional, but we’re both there to look after each other, so it works.”
“How do you pay the rent? Do you have a job?” Brooklyn asked, wrinkling her nose. She didn’t expect to have a job till after college. Cecily had always said that working during school was bad.
“No, actually, Averil’s grandmother bought an apartment when they were building
the entire building. When she died, she left it to Averil. Both of us have jobs to pay for the other expenses, but the apartment, thank god, is ours.”
Brooklyn put her head in her hands. What was she going to tell her mother? Romeo? The news just might break him. And her mother would pretend to be strong, but something essential in her would break as well. And Brooklyn had loved her father, before he had started barely coming home. Suddenly, she began to wonder if all the late nights in the office were not really spent in the office but with that woman.
And how could she confront her father? What would she say? He didn’t deserve to have her mother. He was a liar and a cheat, but Brooklyn couldn’t help thinking how it would feel if she was in her dad’s position—having your daughter catch you cheating and seeing the hate in her eyes for you. And did she hate her dad? Maybe he was lonely. His wife was always busy. Maybe he didn’t get the love he wanted or needed at home, so he had to get it somewhere else.
Brooklyn shook her head. She couldn’t make excuses for him. He had no excuses for doing what he did. And then there was this Simon guy. She had no idea who he was. She had sat down with him and mentally cursed herself for sitting with a random stranger, but there was something so comforting about him. She needed comfort right now.
“Do you want me to take you somewhere?” Simon asked, ever the gentleman.
Brooklyn looked up at him. He had beautifully carved features. Not like the dashing models that her mother sometimes worked with. He had a kind of rugged beauty that you didn’t find in New York among all the fake painted people that walked its streets. He had long, thick dark lashes that shaded impossibly stormy grey eyes and glasses that covered them. Brooklyn felt that if she took off those glasses, she might see the most beautiful eyes ever, except for someone’s midnight blue eyes. But that person didn’t love her. She looked back at Simon, fighting the urge to run her hands through his long curling hair.
“I don’t know. Can you distract me? Take me somewhere where I’ll forget.” she said. Then it dawned on her that he might have somewhere to be. It was Christmas after all. “Unless you have to go. I’ll be fine if you do,” she said hurriedly.
He shook his, head, making some of his hair fall into his eyes. She itched to brush it away. “No. I don’t have anywhere to be. Despite the fact that it’s Christmas. I can take you anywhere,” Simon told her.