Bro Code(17)

I’m not exactly dressed to impress in my oversized sweatshirt, and pink pajama pants, but the thought of Barrett freezing to death outside my parents’ house takes precedence over my outfit. I pad down the steps and tug the front door open—Mom had left it unlocked for him after all, which eases my concern for his safety, but piques my interest as to what the hell he’s doing out in the cold. It’s almost too dark to see past the front steps, but if I squint, I can just barely make out his motionless silhouette in the driver’s seat of his parked Audi.

The wind whips mercilessly against my cheeks, making every step down the icy driveway feel like a leap of faith, but I eventually make it to the passenger side of his car. After a single tap on the window, he turns his head, startled for just a second. I wiggle my fingers in a gentle wave and he unlocks the door. I take that as an invitation.

It’s not much warmer inside since the car isn’t running, but at least I’m out of the wind. I can’t stop shivering, and for a while the only sound in the car is our quiet breathing. Sitting in silence in cars with Barrett. This is starting to become a trend.

There's a few seconds of silence, and then Barrett glances over at me. “I feel like there's so much we haven't caught up on.”

“What would you like to know?”

He shrugs. “I don't know.” He looks straight out the windshield, with a contemplative expression. “What’s the most rebellious thing you've ever done?”

I wonder if he assumes that stealing a peek at his package, or kissing him would be high up on the list. And maybe they would, if I could bring myself to regret them.

“Probably skipping my economics class, the entire fall semester of my senior year. The professor only counted the mid-term and the final exam toward our grades, so I literally only went to class twice. I swear people were like who are you? Are you in the wrong classroom?” I smile remembering back, and then realize it's a little ridiculous that this is the most outrageous thing I've done. Maybe I should have lived more, maybe then I'd have tales about drunken spring break escapades or sky diving behind my parents’ back. Instead I've always done what was expected of me, tried to be a good daughter, a good sister, a good friend.

“But you passed?” he asks.

I blink, realizing he's asking about the econ class. “I read the textbook. I knew the material, I just didn't see a point in sitting through the lectures for ninety minutes every week if I didn't have to.”

He nods. “I would have been the same way in law school if I could have gotten away with it.”

I like the image of a studious younger Barrett taking notes and volunteering commentary on his professor's lecture.

“What are you doing up?” he finally asks, as if me being awake this late is somehow more suspicious than him sitting out here in the cold.

“Your headlights...my bedroom window faces the driveway.”

He rakes his fingers through his chestnut hair. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was having trouble sleeping anyway.”

It’s not entirely true, but it’s enough for the embarrassed look on his face to subside. “I guess everyone’s got a lot on their mind tonight then,” he says.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. Just needed some space to think through a few things.”

“What kind of things?” I can feel my face soften and my heart sink just a little bit.

“Nothing specific.”

He’s as frustrating as he is gorgeous but I don’t want to pry, so I tease him instead. “Does your knack for evading questions serve you well as a lawyer?”

The corners of his mouth hint at the slightest smile and he relaxes into his seat, releasing the white-knuckle grip he still had on the wheel.

“I’ve just been thinking about future plans and all that,” he admits.

“So, you’re a planner too.”

“Maybe not as much as you are. What do you have laid out?”

I shrug, my shivers subsiding a little bit as our body heat warms the car. “After I whip the plant into shape — the plan is to settle down with the right guy in the next couple of years, enjoy each other for a while, then hopefully start a family by the time I’m thirty.” I’ve repeated this plan so many times that it feels as natural as reciting the alphabet. I wasn't the kind of girl in high school who was pretty or popular, and in college I was busy double-majoring in business and accounting, it felt like there was never time for a relationship. After I graduated, I was focused on working. I decided last year that if I wanted to make it happen for myself, I needed to make finding a man a priority. And I will—as soon as I get the factory in order. I know what I want, and I'm mature enough now to be upfront about it.

Barrett studies me in the dark. I half expected him to roll his eyes, or tell me how cliché that was, but instead, he looks impressed. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. A lot of people think I’m crazy for having a checklist like this, but I want what I want,” I say with another shrug. “What about you? What do you want?”

“To make partner at my law firm this year,” he says firmly, not needing even a second to consider his answer. “I’ve been busting my ass and I’m on track. I work for what I want. I just can’t do it with any distractions.”