When I first learned that Brian's scholarship was retracted and he had to do some janitorial work, I felt sorry for him. To some extent, I still do. Cleaning stuff is terrible. But now that we're together I have to say we get one big perk from the job—the janitor's closet. I know what it sounds like, but it's been more for cute notes left between classes or a heartfelt talk late in the evening than anything steamy. The closet is at the end of a hallway people seldom pass, so I am fairly sure I haven't been spotted wandering over there without any reason. But who would care anyway? Except Mom, that is.
We've been gathering things here and there to make the closet a nice meeting space: a photo frame, lamp, message board (no chairs, we sit on the floor but the closet is more spacious than I expected), stuff like that.
Since FPS is already sort of a cult, besides a big time sink with practices and prep and playbooks, we can always write off being missing for a while or having to cut out of something early as "FPS stuff." Tonight Ki asks me if I want to watch a Disney movie—she's looking for inspiration for a children's game—but Brian and I have our, well "FPS stuff" planned after he cleans the locker room tonight. I tell her I can stay until 10 and she puts in Aladdin, and by the time it's almost 10 she is engrossed in the physics of a magic carpet game and the different cloudlike shapes she can make out of a genie. I wave as I close the door to her adorably decorated room and check my phone for any disappointing "have to work late" or "Ted wanted me to do this thing and I had to say yes" text messages: there aren't any tonight. I smile, tie the belt of my trench coat, and walk to the main building.
When I reach the closet, Brian's already there, washing his hands. He's still in his weird blue jumpsuit. He dries his hands and tries to give me a hug, but I push him away with, "Change first! I'll face this way and I promise I won't peek."
As I turn towards the door, he says, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Jenny, I'm wearing clothes under this you know." I feel a little silly as I turn back to face him, as he's disentangling himself from the jumpsuit, fully clad in tee shirt and gym shorts. "You wear this over your clothes so they don't get dirty, not as clothes," he explains as he hangs the blue garment on a wall hook.
"Okay, I get it, Brian," I say. I take off my coat and hang it on another hook, then I take a seat on the floor, leaning against the door with my legs folded up to my chin. "So how was your day?" I ask.
"Long, kind of tiring, the locker rooms were super gross but now they're habitable, I guess," he replies. "And now I'm done and here with you. I've been looking forward to this all night." Brian takes a seat with his back to the wall next to me. "We really should get some chairs or cushions in here though. The floor is kind of cold."
"Yeah, I guess it is," I say with a smile, and I lean my head against his shoulder. "Mom has me designing a couple plays to add to her playbook and it's intimidating to think she'll be picking them apart as soon as I show them to her."
"Wouldn't want to be you, Captain," he says jokingly. "I'm sure they'll be great, but it's kind of her job to give us negative feedback to make us better."
"It's just that it's my mom…" I trail off. He gets the idea, after the night when I was supposed to write the speech and we ended up sharing our stories of our parents (or lack thereof) he knows that Mom and I have far from an ideal mother-daughter relationship. "Let me run this one idea by you, though." We talk for a while about this new strategy I have in mind and Brian helps me iron out the details. "My butt's really cold," I eventually complain, getting up and walking over to a small table. "I like your choice of pictures," I say as I look at the frames: one of Cheeto, one of Ted making a weird face, and one of me. It's my yearbook portrait, taken as I sit on a bench in the quad.
"We need one of us," he says, standing up and getting his phone out of his pocket.
"Okay," I say, and he stands behind me, putting one arm around my waist, holding the phone out in front of us and resting his chin on my shoulder. We take four shots, photo-booth style, and laugh at each other's funny faces in each frame. "That's quality," I swipe through to one where Brian has his eyes crossed and I'm winking exaggeratedly.
"Frame-worthy," he agrees, taking the phone from me and setting it on the table.
"Your butt still cold?" he asks, coming up close behind me and putting his hands, well, on it. The mood turns from fun to flirty in a split second.
I lean back slowly into him. "A little," I say, turning my head to the side so it rests just on his shoulder. I didn't expect the night to take this sort of turn, but I won't say I don't like it. We stand like this for a few moments.
"Well…" he trails off and moves his hands to the front of my thighs. "Wanna change that?" He pulls my lower body even closer as he moves his hips against mine. I gasp a little when I feel him half hard against the small of my back.
"I'm game if you are," I breathe, turning to face him and clasping my hands around his rear. "You were sitting on the floor too."
"Jenny, just to be clear, not all the way, just one step farther than last time, okay?" he whispers as I grind into him. I nod and run my hands up under the back of his tee shirt..
"You first," I say. He manages to get his head stuck in the shirt for a few seconds as he struggles to take it off, but he comes up smiling and hangs it neatly over my coat on the hook. I realize for the first time that Brian is smoking hot as he flips his hair out of his eyes and shrugs playfully. My turn. I slowly undo the first button and watch his abs tense and his eyes fix on my hand as I move to the second, then the third.
As I get to the last one and the shirt falls off my shoulders, he steps forward and helps me out of it. "I didn't want you to get stuck like I did," he says, hanging it over top of his. He hops out of his sneakers and shorts before I can say anything more; now he's just in his boxers in front of me. I kick off my flats and peel off my skinny jeans, and as soon as I toss them aside Brian is clasping my waist and pressing his skin against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and we kiss deeply. I intertwine his fingers with mine as he bends his head to kiss my neck. "You're gorgeous, Jenny," he breathes into my ear.
"Thank you," I whisper, not really sure what to say but inwardly realizing he doesn't have much to go off of. As our lips meet again I feel his heart beating fast, racing in time with my own. But he pulls away abruptly and I look at him, confused.
"I, um, have to go to the bathroom," he blushes and I can see he's mortified. It's adorable. He steps into the janitor's jumpsuit and dashes out the door to the restroom across the hall. When he returns a couple minutes later, I've put my clothes back on. He unzips the jumpsuit and then pulls on his shorts, and tee shirt.
I give him a hug. "You okay?" I ask.
"A plus!" he replies. I try and fix his hair to no avail, as he smiles and shakes his head. "It's a lost cause, I think. I wish I could walk you home, Jenny, but you leave now and I'll wait a couple minutes and then go."
"You've got this all planned out and under control, it seems," I say, putting on my coat and opening the door. "See you tomorrow, Brian!" If only, I think, my mom wasn't here and he could show me back, if only…oh no…I didn't have to write all those plays by tomorrow, I recall, and pick up the pace as I walk back to my room. I have the best secret boyfriend ever. And I guess I spoke too soon about nothing special ever happening in the closet, but what happens in the janitor's closet sure stays there!