Thread: You Again? (rpfiend_123 & AnnaBeth Belle)

Almost before Mike could move aside, a visibly pink Brooke hurried past him. SorryIneedsomething, she said in a rush of words. If it had been any other time she would have found it awkward to not only enter his bedroom but to see him standing there, still wet from the shower and wearing only a towel. Oh, she'd seen him before in his swimsuit but that was by the pool and Sammy was there and it was okay because it was the pool. That wasn't entirely true though, was it? Last summer Brooke had bought a big pair of oversized Hollywood actress style sunglasses and while Samantha lay on the lounger to tan and Brooke sat near her under a big beach umbrella covered one she'd watched Mr. Stevenson swim laps. There had been one time when he pushed himself out of the pool by them and stood there for a moment, stretching, and Brooke had seen how the motion pulled his skin over his muscles. Mr. Stevenson was in amazing shape for a man his age, for any man any age, and the sun had turned the drops of water on his body into jewels accenting the body of a god. Because of the glasses, Mike hadn't been able to see her eyes widen or linger on his body before she raised the book she had in her lap up to cover her face like she was reading. The steam in the bathroom made it hard to see but it was starting to slowly clear up. It did smell good, even though the heat of it on her skin was uncomfortable with the sunburn. It also smelled like pine a little from the soap she knew Mr. Stevenson liked. Brooke liked to go to the grocery store with him when he shopped and learned the family's favorite brands for most things. Claire's vanity looked familiar because of it, the lotion and soap and toothpaste brands Brooke remembered. The vanity was cool under her fingers as she held onto it to squat and open the cabinet underneath. Peroxide, alcohol, heating pad, tampons and pads, the bath bombs Claire preferred. Where was it? A hint of green half-hidden behind a basket that held Claire's hairdryer and curling iron led Brooke to what she sought a bottle of aloe vera gel. No lidocaine but beggars couldn't be choosers. Oh thank goodness, she said out loud and stood up. The steam was still in the bathroom so she stepped into the bedroom and the relative cool of it was an immediate relief. It made a long lock of her red hair stick to her face and she pushed it back, wincing when the motion pulled her shoulder into the sleeve of her blouse. I'm so sorry, Mr. Stevenson, she said, then noticed he was in his towel. Oh, um she turned around, flustered, and only the pink of her skin prevented him from seeing her flush. Sorry. The bottle in her hands was spun slowly in her nervous fidgety hands. I wasn't paying attention when we were outside. Honestly I just went out there for a minute but we started talking and it was so much fun and I lost track of time. It's so stupid. First day of summer and I already have sunburn. Sammy is going to die laughing. Red hair shook, each silky strand of it whispering across the other then falling free to lie in perfect array, made smooth and shiny by the product she used. I'm so so so sorry, she said again. You know I'm not usually this careless. Could you please help me in a minute? It hurts to much too reach my shoulders and back. Please? the young girl asked, the pain and embarrassment of having been so immature and irresponsible in her voice. I mean, after you, uh, I'll be in Sammy's room, she said and then kind of backed around towards the door and left, not looking at Mike's hard muscled body or how the towel hung so low around his hips that a miracle was surely the only thing keeping it on. Up in Samantha's room Brooke stood by the desk and the open bottle of gel sat on top of it. The first handful of it was cold agony on her thighs and calves, but Brooke bit her teeth together and rubbed the greasy, almost sticky aloe vera into her skin. The smell of it promised relief and even without the numbing lidocaine it felt better, a little bit anyway, and it would keep her from peeling. As she worked on her arms, contorting to try to get the tops of them, little pain noises she wasn't even aware she was making spilled past her lips. Where was Mr. Stevenson? She needed help! Was he going to be mad at her? No, he didn't get mad but he'd be disappointed and that hurt so much worse. The look he gave when you made a bad choice was so awful you didn't want to do it again, or at least she didn't. Sammy didn't seem to care or be affected by it but it really got to Brooke. Was that him? The girl turned to glance towards the door, young legs glistening wetly from the aloe vera.