Jamie shook his head. He couldn't tell her what Michael
had said, he wouldn't tell her. Jamie would never repeat
something so vile and disgusting to Brooke. Suddenly,
without warning, Brooke slapped him open handed. He
turned his head, slightly, to the right and brought
back to meet her's. Her eyes were tearing up, but
she was trying to hide it. He reached out to touch
her, but she avoided his hand and ran out of the room.
"Stupid, Jamie, thinks he owns me, I'll, I'll..."
thought Brooke, angrily. She couldn't think what she was
going to do to him, but is was going to be bad, really bad.
Brooke had always liked Jamie, some saw it as a brother sister
kind of relationship, but it was more than that. It was his
hair, his eyes, the way he gazed into her eyes. She shook
her head to get the thoughts out of her head. She was
supposed to hate Jamie right now, right? Brooke plopped
down on her bed and laid back. She sighed heavily and
turned on her side. Brooke thought of Michael, he was
nice to her, well, he did move a little fast. The first
conversation they had ended in her first French kiss. It
was nice, but deep down inside she wished it had been Jamie
kissing her. Jamie had ended up working as and EMT for probation.
Even after everyone else had kissed the town good-bye, he stayed,
he had gotten used to it, she guessed. "Why does he care now?"
she asked herself. "Ever since I met him, I wanted him to look
at me, the way he looked at other girls. He just thought of me
as a nuisance, now he punches out Michael," She sighed again.
In a few minutes slumber took over.
Jamie was watching her through the window. Her face was
contorted with confusion. He wondered what she was thinking.
Was it of Michael? Was it of him? "Why is she making me rack
my brain with thoughts of her?" Jamie asked himself. Before he
knew what he was doing, he started walking toward her window.
He stopped a few inches away from it. She looked so peaceful
now, the deepest stage of sleep was upon her. Jamie raised his
hand to tap on the glass, he hesitated. Many thoughts raced
through his mind. "Should I wake her? Yes, wake her, tell her.
Tell her what? I like her. Oh, Brooke by the way I'm in like
with you. Oh, yeah, that would work. Just do it, don't wimp
out. Do it," He took a deep breath, let it out and tapped on
the window. She didn't move. Jamie tapped louder. Brooke
rolled over and looked out her window. Her vision was fuzzy,
but she could tell who it was.
"Jamie?" she said, sleepily.
Jamie looked at her hopefully. "Let me in, please,
angel, let me in," he begged to himself. She swung her feet
off the bed and stood up. She softly padded her way to the
window. Jamie was frightened, frightened by what she would
say, of what she would do. He thought he saw anger in her
face, but her blonde hair was drawing his attention. It
hung loosely around her shoulders, making her face appear
more angelic. Brooke, slowly reached for the clasp on the
window. She turned it, unlocking it. Brooke grasped the
bottom of the window and pushed upward. The glass slid up,
easily. A cool breeze entered the room, causing her to shiver.
Jamie stood still, as if he were apart of the ground itself.
A thought of running away entered his mind, but he forced
himself to stay. Brooke opened her mouth to speak, but
then quickly closed it. He grinned at this.
"Well, what are you doing here? Hopefully to apologize," she said.
Scoffing, he said, "To that little..." he started, but stopped himself. "Brooke..."
"Shut up, just shut up. Do you know how badly I want to hurt you?"
she asked, the same feeling she had felt when she slapped him resurfacing.
"Go ahead, couldn't hurt more than it already does," he said, coldly.
Brooke thought about this for a moment.
"What do you mean, Jamie?" she inquired.
She said his name softly and as she did, Jamie felt a chill.
"I don't know," he said, looking at the ground.
She sighed and knelt at the open window.
"Tell me what happened tonight," she pleaded.
"I can't," he said.
"Why not?" asked Brooke.
"I don't want to hurt you, Brooke," he said, sadly.
"You won't, you could never," Brooke said, sensing something
was terribly wrong with Jamie.
Jamie looked up. Her face, her sweet face was peering at him.
Hope was in her eyes and he could tell she wanted to help.
"Should I lie to her?" he contemplated.
"I was jealous. Really jealous, that's why I hit him," he told her.
Brooke looked down at her hands. They were so small.
"What a stupid thing to think right now," she scolded herself.
She slowly reached out the window and touched his cheek.
He was startled, but then found her warm fingers comforting.
He leaned into the touched, then reached to hold her hand.
He intertwined their hands. He moved as close as he possibly
could to her. She leaned out the window. Their lips touched.
Neither one moved, they stood still, relishing in the moment.
Jamie pulled back and smiled at her. He slowly took a few steps
backwards, their hands indolently brushing against each other.
Brooke watched him tread off. He turned around to look at her.
He smiled again and continued on his way.
had said, he wouldn't tell her. Jamie would never repeat
something so vile and disgusting to Brooke. Suddenly,
without warning, Brooke slapped him open handed. He
turned his head, slightly, to the right and brought
back to meet her's. Her eyes were tearing up, but
she was trying to hide it. He reached out to touch
her, but she avoided his hand and ran out of the room.
"Stupid, Jamie, thinks he owns me, I'll, I'll..."
thought Brooke, angrily. She couldn't think what she was
going to do to him, but is was going to be bad, really bad.
Brooke had always liked Jamie, some saw it as a brother sister
kind of relationship, but it was more than that. It was his
hair, his eyes, the way he gazed into her eyes. She shook
her head to get the thoughts out of her head. She was
supposed to hate Jamie right now, right? Brooke plopped
down on her bed and laid back. She sighed heavily and
turned on her side. Brooke thought of Michael, he was
nice to her, well, he did move a little fast. The first
conversation they had ended in her first French kiss. It
was nice, but deep down inside she wished it had been Jamie
kissing her. Jamie had ended up working as and EMT for probation.
Even after everyone else had kissed the town good-bye, he stayed,
he had gotten used to it, she guessed. "Why does he care now?"
she asked herself. "Ever since I met him, I wanted him to look
at me, the way he looked at other girls. He just thought of me
as a nuisance, now he punches out Michael," She sighed again.
In a few minutes slumber took over.
Jamie was watching her through the window. Her face was
contorted with confusion. He wondered what she was thinking.
Was it of Michael? Was it of him? "Why is she making me rack
my brain with thoughts of her?" Jamie asked himself. Before he
knew what he was doing, he started walking toward her window.
He stopped a few inches away from it. She looked so peaceful
now, the deepest stage of sleep was upon her. Jamie raised his
hand to tap on the glass, he hesitated. Many thoughts raced
through his mind. "Should I wake her? Yes, wake her, tell her.
Tell her what? I like her. Oh, Brooke by the way I'm in like
with you. Oh, yeah, that would work. Just do it, don't wimp
out. Do it," He took a deep breath, let it out and tapped on
the window. She didn't move. Jamie tapped louder. Brooke
rolled over and looked out her window. Her vision was fuzzy,
but she could tell who it was.
"Jamie?" she said, sleepily.
Jamie looked at her hopefully. "Let me in, please,
angel, let me in," he begged to himself. She swung her feet
off the bed and stood up. She softly padded her way to the
window. Jamie was frightened, frightened by what she would
say, of what she would do. He thought he saw anger in her
face, but her blonde hair was drawing his attention. It
hung loosely around her shoulders, making her face appear
more angelic. Brooke, slowly reached for the clasp on the
window. She turned it, unlocking it. Brooke grasped the
bottom of the window and pushed upward. The glass slid up,
easily. A cool breeze entered the room, causing her to shiver.
Jamie stood still, as if he were apart of the ground itself.
A thought of running away entered his mind, but he forced
himself to stay. Brooke opened her mouth to speak, but
then quickly closed it. He grinned at this.
"Well, what are you doing here? Hopefully to apologize," she said.
Scoffing, he said, "To that little..." he started, but stopped himself. "Brooke..."
"Shut up, just shut up. Do you know how badly I want to hurt you?"
she asked, the same feeling she had felt when she slapped him resurfacing.
"Go ahead, couldn't hurt more than it already does," he said, coldly.
Brooke thought about this for a moment.
"What do you mean, Jamie?" she inquired.
She said his name softly and as she did, Jamie felt a chill.
"I don't know," he said, looking at the ground.
She sighed and knelt at the open window.
"Tell me what happened tonight," she pleaded.
"I can't," he said.
"Why not?" asked Brooke.
"I don't want to hurt you, Brooke," he said, sadly.
"You won't, you could never," Brooke said, sensing something
was terribly wrong with Jamie.
Jamie looked up. Her face, her sweet face was peering at him.
Hope was in her eyes and he could tell she wanted to help.
"Should I lie to her?" he contemplated.
"I was jealous. Really jealous, that's why I hit him," he told her.
Brooke looked down at her hands. They were so small.
"What a stupid thing to think right now," she scolded herself.
She slowly reached out the window and touched his cheek.
He was startled, but then found her warm fingers comforting.
He leaned into the touched, then reached to hold her hand.
He intertwined their hands. He moved as close as he possibly
could to her. She leaned out the window. Their lips touched.
Neither one moved, they stood still, relishing in the moment.
Jamie pulled back and smiled at her. He slowly took a few steps
backwards, their hands indolently brushing against each other.
Brooke watched him tread off. He turned around to look at her.
He smiled again and continued on his way.