Chapter 14 - Brooke And I Finally Had A Conversation Without A Camera
Brooke returned my apartment key on Thursday.
She placed it on the table.
No phone visible.
I noticed immediately.
“So we're really doing this.”
“What?”
“No recording.”
She looked tired.
“I left it in the car.”
“On purpose?”
“Yes.”
I sat.
She stayed standing.
“Are we still friends?”
I hated the question.
“No idea.”
She nodded.
“Same.”
Good.
I asked:
“Who posted the short North Hall clip of you?”
Brooke looked at me.
“Cara.”
I frowned.
“She admitted it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was angry I wouldn't publish the whole timeline.”
I almost laughed.
“So she edited you.”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel?”
Brooke gave me a look.
“Guess.”
Fair.
“Did she apologize?”
“No.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing right now.”
That surprised me.
“You're not correcting?”
“I already told people the clip was incomplete.”
“Full video?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Lena is in it.”
There.
She had learned faster than I did.
I nodded.
Brooke sat.
“I’m sorry I used Rachel.”
I looked at her.
“Tell Rachel.”
“I did.”
“How'd that go?”
“She said she didn't want my apology to become another project.”
I almost smiled.
“That sounds like her.”
Brooke continued:
“I’m sorry I livestreamed you.”
I laughed softly.
“That one is harder.”
“I know.”
“You wanted to make me feel what it was like.”
“Partly.”
“You wanted witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted to control the reveal.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted to be the good one by the end.”
Brooke looked down.
“Yes.”
No long explanation.
Good.
I said:
“I’m sorry I turned you into the camera.”
She looked up.
“You didn't.”
I frowned.
“I helped.”
She continued:
“I liked it.”
“I know.”
“We were good at it.”
“Yes.”
That was the dangerous part.
We had enjoyed the method before we ever admitted it had become a pattern.
Brooke rubbed her hands together.
“Do you think you would’ve stopped if I just told you?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
She looked surprised.
I continued.
“I would’ve argued.”
“Yes.”
“Probably told you Rachel and Lena were manipulating you.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe stopped trusting you.”
“Yes.”
“So you did this.”
She nodded.
“Still wrong.”
“Yes.”
Both facts.
I looked toward the window.
“What happens with us?”
Brooke shrugged.
“For once, can we not decide the whole thing today?”
I almost laughed.
“Fine.”
She stood.
At the door she turned.
“There is one video I didn't put in the folder.”
My stomach tightened.
“Of what?”
She smiled faintly.
“You lasted longer than usual.”
“Brooke.”
She shook her head.
“See you.”
Then left.
I stared at the closed door.
The old Vanessa would have followed.
Taken the phone.
Demanded the file.
Called until someone answered.
I stayed on the couch.
For ten minutes.
Then twenty.
At thirty-two, Brooke texted:
You can ask tomorrow if you still want to know.
I hated her.
A little.
May you like
I also did not ask.
Not that night.
