Brooke

This night is freaking fab. I haven't felt so awesome in so long, even with Nate's brother hitting on me while simultaneously suggesting that Nate and I are sleeping together. It's actually kind of amusing, and I'd be more amused if I didn't see how upset it made Nate. I sense some major family tension there, and I know all about that, so I'm glad to be an excuse for him to get away. I'd rather him hang out with me then pull out another stress saving cigarette.

I turn down the music and lean the seat back. My throat is sore from singing Take on Me so loud I may have burst Nate's eardrum. But how can you not sing that song without hitting that high note at the highest decibel you're capable of?

Nate's eyes skate to mine for a second before they dash back to the road. He hasn't stopped smiling tonight, and I think that gives me the courage to... relax. I toss my feet on the dash and fix the almost wedgie my shorts give me. Nate laughs, and I wrinkle my nose at him because I'm allowed to adjust myself. We've established this is not a date. If it were, then yes, I would've endured the underwear bunching.

"Two hours. I think that's a record."

My brow crinkles and I twist in my reclined seat to face him.

"Starting a conversation you had mostly in your head. I think someone is sleepy," I lilt and poke him playfully in the arm.

He shakes his head and turns on his right blinker. As we exit the freeway, I admire what the wind has done to his hair and decide I don't mind it being so unkempt.

"I meant your phone, smartass. It's been two hours, and you haven't touched it."

Now of course I'm dying to. But I curl my fingers into fists to stop them from diving into my pocket.

"It's nearly two in the morning. Nothing I really have to check off at the moment."

He smirks and I have an equal desire to smack it and take a picture of it. Which is so insane. He's the photographer. Not me. Something I still have to get used to, since he snapped a picture of me at dinner and I have no idea why. But it's seriously making me think I have to be super cute 24/7 in case of a Nate photo flash. Hmm... maybe I shouldn't be adjusting things around him.

"Here I thought you marked things off in your sleep."

I know he's joking, and I don't know why I care all of a sudden, but after my date with Nick gone bad, a hard lump forms in my stomach that maybe I do have a problem. And I need to lighten the hell up.

"Does it bother you?"

"Your phone?"

I nod, noticing the wind has blown the hem of my tank up and I'm totally sitting there with my stomach exposed. I smooth it down so it lays flat.

He laughs, shifts gears, and turns into a suburban neighborhood. "You're organized." His shoulders lift a little. "I may not understand it, but it doesn't bother me."

"What do you mean you don't understand it? A lot of people are organized."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I was being polite." His eyes move to mine for long enough that I freak out about the road in front of us not being watched, but I can't seem to stop staring at him. "If I was being honest"-eyes back on the road-"I would have said you're a perfectionist. Maybe a little obsessive compulsive."

He looks like I may kill him over that admission, flexing his arm and tucking it into his side preparing for a punch.

Instead, I flip in my seat, letting my hand fly over the car door and play with the night air. "I've heard that once or twice, so it's not a surprise." I let my eyes drift closed and breathe in and out, smiling. "At least it doesn't bother you."

"People being themselves doesn't bother me. Well, unless they're assholes, and you're not an asshole."

Our laughs mingle together and it feels weird, but good because I don't exactly laugh a whole lot. And definitely not with someone.

"You don't bother me either," I say when our laughter dies down.

"Bullshit."

I open my eyes and adjust my seat so I'm more upright. He's shooting me a wide grin as I grimace. "What? Don't believe me?"

"No." He shifts gears and laughs to himself. I cross my arms and wait for him to explain why he thinks I'm lying my ass off. "I bet you anything when you first saw me smoking in our office you wanted to pop me over the head."

Damn it. "Well, yes..."

"And whenever you see this...?" He pulls at his collar, showing me top button and oh my holy hell, the second to top button is also undone. He's totally doing that on purpose. My mouth drops and he raises a knowing brow at me. "See... I can see it happening already. It's driving you crazy. You want to button it, don't you? Even though we're chilling with the top down, cruising in the middle of the night without a care in the damn world, you want to button this button up."

I had no idea how fast my breathing had become while he was talking. My eyes move to his shirt and I've stopped my fingers all night, but the second to last button, and the fact he keeps shoving it in my face... shit. I lean over the center console and get that one button, but I leave the top undone to prove something to him and to me.

"They wouldn't put a button there unless it was meant to be used," I say, then pat his chest and sit back in my seat. My breathing goes back to normal.

He smirks and rests his hand back on the steering wheel. "See?"

I let out a sigh, and it gets caught in the wind as we drive down another unfamiliar-to me-street. "I guess I just don't understand it either."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't understand organized. I don't understand 'going with the flow.' I can't imagine not planning out my day. Or not knowing what's going to happen next."

"What about tonight?" He nudges my arm, and I raise an eyebrow because I thought he hated me for being such a tightass with his shirt, but when I catch his gaze, he's still smiling the same old Nate smile he's had on all night. "You didn't plan on driving to Mesquite, did you?"

A guilty look smacks on my face, and before I can get rid of it, he calls me out.

"No way. You didn't know it would happen."

"Not exactly, but..." I reach in my pocket and pull out my phone. Tapping on the task I highlighted on the way to dinner, I show it to him. It takes him a couple reads, eyes going back and forth from my phone to the road.

"'Anything Goes Night.'" He runs a hand over his windblown hair and shakes his head. "Care to tell me what that is?"

"You said we were going to celebrate. So I cleared my schedule for an all night celebration because I wasn't exactly sure what would happen."

"Did that scare you?"

I tuck my phone back against my chest and check off the task. "A little, I guess. Like I said, I just don't understand letting things happen. You can do that, and I have no idea how."

He shrugs. "It's easy."

"Maybe for you. You're like The Big Bang Theory."

"Uh... Come again?"

I twist in my seat and shove my phone down my pocket where I hope to set another record with it there to prove that I'm capable of not looking at it for an extended amount of time. "You know, you're just floating around in space, la-dee-da-ing, until that big BAM!"

He jolts back when I clap next to his face and the car swerves a little. I stifle my amusement as I keep going with my analogy. "Everything falls into place perfectly and you didn't even do anything. It just happened. Me? No, I can't even think about just sitting around waiting for things in my life to fall into place. I have to plan for it. I have to find out how to achieve what and which way to achieve it, and use trial and error to come to the specific conclusion on every single goal I want in life. It eats at me. I need to find the perfect way to accomplish this thing and that thing and whatever thing..."

"Whoa there," Nate says, reaching over and squeezing my knee. I had no idea how tense I'd become, how fast I started talking. His fingers on my bare skin do something funny to my stomach. Like he loosened it, then tightened it in a whole different way. After a few seconds, I calm down enough he takes his hand from my knee and puts it back on the wheel. "There's that word. Perfect. Why be perfect, Brooke? Some of the greatest things in life are great because of the imperfections."

I blink a few times, then drop my gaze to my abandoned knee. It's a good question, and I know the answer, but I'm not sure I'm willing to give all of it to him. I look at the trash bag full of our impromptu dessert, eye my shoes I slipped off the moment I got in the car with him, and remember the way he made my feet feel like they were on clouds of heaven when he rubbed them. This is Nate. My friend.

"There are about five or six things on my to-do list that I've never been able to check off. And I've been dying to."

"Oh? What are they?"

A smile forces itself on my lips, and I shake my head. "Nope, not going to tell you."

"Oh come on. You can't expect me not to poke at that hive."

I shake my head again, teasing him.

He turns onto another road that takes us up and up and up. "I could just look in your phone."

"You touch my phone, you die."

We both laugh, and he loses patience. "Just tell me one. That's it. Just one."

I let that mull over till we get to the top of the hill, and he parks the car at a roadside stop. The lights from the city keep things pretty well-lit, even from this far away.

I bend down and reach for my shoes. "Your mom won't mind if I sit on the hood, right?"

He shakes his head and unbuckles. "No, but you better not climb up there with those heels on."

"Right." I lift a finger then bend to my bag. I dig nice and calm for about three seconds, then go all out frantic. "Seriously, Brooke?" I scold myself. "You forgot your flip flops?" This never happens. I'm so on my game most of the time, I can't believe I didn't think to grab them. I dig some more, but Nate stops me with his hand. Raising a questioning eyebrow, I watch him open his door and cross to my side. He leans over me, unbuckles my belt, and before I can even reach up to do that top button, he grabs my waist and hoists me out of the car like I'm a two-year-old.

"Nate!" I yelp, then slap a hand over my mouth since it echoes around us about ten times louder than it came out. He chuckles and walks me quickly but carefully to the hood of the car. I don't notice till he inches me over and settles in next to me, leaving about a foot of distance between us, how flushed I am.

"Okay, one thing from your to-do list," he says, like he totally didn't just manhandle me.

"Fine." I hold up a finger. "One thing."

He sits back, a triumphant grin on his actually well-groomed face-for today-and it makes me almost take it back. Almost.

"There are four words I've wanted my parents to say to me. Four words, and I still haven't been able to make it happen."

Nate's grin falls a little, and he leans toward me. "And they are...?"

I try to smile as I say them. "I'm proud of you."

It seems to cut our teasing air right out of the conversation, and I hate that, because I didn't want to get too deep. So I force out a laugh and say, "I think I'm getting close on that one."

It takes him a minute to respond, but when he does, it sounds like his laugh is forced too. "You should've called them today. Hell, I've only known you a couple months and after that kickass deal, even I'm proud of you."

Now I give him a genuine smile. "Thanks, but it won't be enough."

"A fifty-thousand dollar client isn't enough? Damn, what do you have to do? Become Pope?"

My stomach loosens and tightens in that weird way again. "Probably. You see, my brother is this medical genius who is with the Peace Corps at the moment, and my sister is this super mom who has a perfectly clean house, well-behaved children and a husband who makes millions-oh, who also treats her like a queen. So, landing a big time client for the job I've been at for...well, not long enough, just won't cut it."

He scoots closer, and I wonder if he realized it. "What will be enough?"

I lift my shoulders a little, opening my mouth at a loss. I'm not sure to be honest. But I know the plan, so I go with that. "Well, I'll need to be at my job longer. Make it into a career. But not just any career, I need something that..." I pause remembering that Nate is the boss's son. Maybe I need to keep my trap shut.

He watches me struggle over my sentence and he holds his hand up. "How about for right now, we're friends, not co-workers. Say whatever the hell you want."

"Like that ever stops things from biting me in the ass."

He scoots even closer. Or am I scooting closer? I don't even know anymore, but we're almost touching. "Friends, Brooke."

I breathe out and tuck a loose hair behind my ear. "Okay, I need to have something that pays well, or better than what you guys are paying me now. And I know that's stupid, because I think I get paid plenty...but it won't be enough for them. I know it." I shrug and hope I didn't just screw up that part of my job because it's really important that I don't. "So, I plan on working my ass off for this wedding business so I can work my way up. If I don't lose any more microphones."

He shakes his head like it's ridiculous for me to still be worried.

"So, there's that, but I also have to be in a nice stable relationship with a guy who's got a Ph.D or who's going into law, or something incredibly successful. And of course, hot as hell who will give them beautiful grandbabies."

He doesn't laugh like I expect him to. I was sort of joking, but that is who I've mapped out. Even have a date with Mr. Law Student this week. Nate scratches the back of his neck and lets his eyes drift up to mine and stay there.

"Is that why you have your levels? To please you? Or to please your parents?"

Oh, I see what he's getting at. Nice try, buddy. My dating system is still just fine, thank you.

I sit up straight and look him dead on. "Both."

We have an uncomfortable staring contest, but I'm not backing down. Eventually he drops the serious face and goes for his signature lazy smirk. "Well, I guess I understand it now... a little bit."

"Understand what?"

He nods to my hip where my phone sits. "Your need to plan and organize. Sounds like it's a lot to live up to."

"I'm trying."

He leans back against the windshield, tucking his arms behind his head. My eyes automatically wander down his dress shirt and his slacks, then skate back up to his rough chin. After a moment I blink and turn my gaze to the city lights because not once during that once over did I care about that button being open. In fact, I kinda wish I'd seen them all open and his dress shirt was hanging off his sides so I could see his undershirt.

Damn, I need sleep.

"Just remember..." he says, jolting me out of my head, "not everything you plan for is worth getting. Sometimes you think it's what you want, but then you realize it's just... not for you."

Now it's my turn to ask.

"What do you mean?"