His Little Secret by Aubree Valentine
Chapter Four
Brooke
I’ve spent every minute that I can with Keegan over the last few weeks but now, I need to get my ass in gear and study for this test that I’ve got coming up at the end of the week. It’s a political science class that I don’t really need for my degree but, I know it will come in handy someday plus I needed an extra credit this semester.
My classmate Emmy and I are meeting up to review at her place tonight. Much to Keegan’s disappointment.
“Brooke!” Emmy exclaims when she opens her door. “Come on in.”
I step inside the cozy and feminine house where two other ladies are curled up on the couch watching reality tv. I recognize Simone Patterson immediately even though we’ve never me.
“Holy shit. Simone?” I look to Emmy, “You didn’t tell me your roommate was the Simone Patterson!”
Emmy rolls her eyes. “You’re funny. Simone this is Brooke. Brooke, Simone. And that Is Kayla.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Both of you,” I add quickly.
“I guess you follow Simone on social media?” Emmy asks.
“Of course, I do. She’s a big deal!”
“Wait,” Simon sits up a little straighter and looks me over. “You’re BookishBrooke aren’t you?”
My eyes widen in shock. “Y-y-yes.”
“Fuck yes! That’s what I’m talking about. I love your book reviews, girl!” Simone bounces on the couch before jumping up to come give me a hug. “That review you did on Rebecca Norrine and Jamila Brinkley’s The Vintner’s Vixen was so amazing. I ended up devouring all of there books because of your review!”
That review was easily two or three years old at this point. The fact that Simone remembered that, and me, my mind was blown.
“I’ve been following you ever since. It’s how I find all my new favorite authors!”
Whoa. Simone Patterson was fan-girling over me.
“You know, I would love to pick your brain about social media sometime. You’ve got so many followers and your content is simply amazing,” I find the courage to say.
“Oh, I would LOVE to chat with you! You just tell me when and where girlie!”
Emmy hooks her arm in mine. “Okay, we really need to get to studying. Do you want to stay here or, we could head over to Pizza My Heart and study over a medium pepperoni pizza and Diet Coke?”
Internally I would be fine with either, but my stomach makes the call for me with a loud grumble.
Emmy laughs. “Pizza My Heart it is.”
Halfway through out study session and pizza, the door to Pizza My Heart opens and the air crackles. I don’t even need to look up to know who just walked in.
Shit. I totally forgot that Keegan said he was going to come here with Emerson, Jordan and Cal for dinner since I was busy.
He catches me staring and gives me a subtle smile, like he would any of his students. The other three guys, of course aren’t so subtle, especially Jordan who we all know is crushing on Emmy.
“Hello ladies,” Jordan slides into the booth next to Emmy and puts his arms around her shoulders. “Room for three more?”
“Cute, Jordan. I told you we were studying tonight,” Emmy leans into him.
“We won’t distract you,” he pleads.
I can’t help but laugh. “We were almost done anyway. I can go and you two can hang out.”
Emmy sends me a death glare. Okay. Weird.
“Actually, I need Brooke’s help with some English stuff, so we’re going to be a bit longer. You don’t mind, right Brooke?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Come on guys. Let the ladies study, we can order some pizza and hit up the Skeeball machine in the back. Winner buys beers,” Keegan jumps in to save the day.
Jordan actually pouts a little as he sulks away.
“What was that about?” I whisper to Emmy.
“It’s nothing. Back to the books,” she points to her notes.
While we get back to it, I send off a text to Keegan to thank him then proceed to stare his way until I know he’s gotten in. He looks at his phone then slides it in his pocket before looking over and me with a tiny nod.
We end up leaving Pizza My Heart before the guys do. I head back to my dorm room and Emmy heads back to her house.
When I walk into my dorm, my roommate, Constance is at her desk, head buried in a book.
“Hey.”
“Hey, haven’t seen you in a few days. All good?” Constance looks up at me.
“Absolutely. Just been busy, you know how it is.”
I wouldn’t say that Constance and I are super close, but we do get along and look out for each other. When it comes to dormmates, I lucked out.
“Met someone?” She wags her eyebrows at me.
“Maybe,” I shrug. It’s not like I can tell her who he is. “It’s stills so new. We’ll see what happens. Having fun with it for now.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. YOLO and all that,” she laughs.
“Whatcha reading?” I try to steer the conversation away from my love life.
“Nothing fun,” she holds up her history textbook. “I wish it was one of those romance novels you always rave about instead, but I’ve got a quiz tomorrow.”
“Eww. Emmy and I were studying tonight too. I can’t wait until all this required reading is done so I can dive back in to my TBR pile.”
“I don’t know how you keep up,” Constance replies.
“A lot of planning and pre-recording, I guess.” I tell her as I gather up a change of clothes and my shower caddy. While my following is nowhere near as large as Simone Patterson’s I do have enough followers that I get a little kick back from the social media platforms every time I post a video.
“I guess you’re in for the night?” She points to the pjs in my arm.
“Yeah. I’m going to hit the hay early tonight. I’m pretty tired.” A yawn escapes as if on cue.
“I’ll try not to make too much noise.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. You do you. And if I start snoring, throw a pillow at me.”
“You don’t snore,” she laughs.
I disappear into our shared bathroom and get ready for bed. I’m out like a light by the time my head hits the pillow.
The next morning when I wake up, Constance is already away and about to head to her first class.
“Uhm. You might want to check your phone. Keegan Fuller was texting you pretty late last night. I didn’t read them, I swear. It kept buzzing and rolled onto the floor, when I picked it up, his name was on the screen.”
“Hm. That’s weird,” I feign innocence. Maybe I should have saved his number under another name. Damnit.
Constance eyes me suspiciously. “I’m not judging. It’s none of my business. Just be careful. Even if it’s nothing. There’s been scandals on campus before. It never ends well for anyone involved.”
“It is nothing.” I lie.
She holds her hands up, “None of my business. I don’t know anything,” this time she crosses her heart and swears.
“Thanks, Con.”
I finally check my phone when she leaves and notice no less than twenty messages from Keegan, the last one at six am. Panic has already set in so I don’t even bother reading them. Instead, I immediately call him.
His groggy voice fills the other end of the line after four rings. “Hello.”
“Keegan? Oh my God, are you okay?” I check the time. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Huh?”
“Keegan!”
“Shh. Head. Hurts.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Not anymore,” he groans. “Hungover.”
“Okay, but it’s eight am. Your first class starts in ten minutes. Shouldn’t you be on campus?” I ask again.
“Someone didn’t check her emails, or her texts.”
“Hold on.”
Putting the phone on speaking, I check my email first and find a message to all the English students saying that today’s classes will be bookwork and no live sessions. Then I scroll through Keegan’s texts.
By the time I get to number twenty I’m both stunned and amused.
Keegan: You looked pretty tonight.
Keegan: Wish I was sitting next to you in that booth, sharing pizza with you.
Keegan: Did you make it home?
Keegan: Why aren’t you answering me.
Keegan: I think I’m in love with you.
Keegan: I do love you. I love you.
Keegan: Too soon? Brooke? Are you there?
Keegan: Jordan sucks at Skeeball. I’m drunk.
Keegan: Do you know what time it is?
Keegan: They kicked us out. Said it’s closing time.
Keegan: Can you come over?
Keegan: I want to cuddle with you.
Keegan: I miss you.
Keegan: I love you.
Keegan: Lawson has Fireball.
Keegan: Oh, we’re having a house party.
Keegan: Will you come to my party?
Keegan: Sleepy time. Goodnight. I love you.
Keegan: You should probably delete these messages.
Keegan: No class today. Check email. Delete your texts then call me. Much later.
“I probably shouldn’t have told you to read those texts. They need to invent an app that will let you delete them before people can read them,” he says, a little perkier now.
“You love me?” Is my only response.
“Drunk men’s words are sober men’s thoughts,” he replies.
“Keegan. That’s a non-answer.”
“Is not. Can we talk later, after a dose of Tylenol, some coffee and a Red Gatorade?”
We could talk later but something tells me that I should probably tell him that Constance knows, sooner rather than later.
“Actually, why don’t I bring you over some breakfast?”
“Don’t you have classes today?”
“Three, and one of my teachers won’t even be there. I’ll make up the work later.”
He tries to fight me but, in the end, I win.
