Chapter 3 - A Thousand Words

Chapter Three: A Thousand Words
“Thank you,” Trixie whispered, not looking at the boy who had been her unexpected savior, after he was finished telling her his side of the story. Brad simply nodded at her words. “Brad, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but can you take me home?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course” he replied as he slowly lifted himself off the floor. “Just let me take a shower first.”

Trixie stood up as well. “I'll wait downstairs,” she suggested before walking out the door and figuring out which way to go.

After a quick shower and with his hair still wet, Brad found Trixie sitting on the couch, a large book in her hands. It didn't take him long to figure out that it was a photo album. The last step creaked under his weight, causing Trixie to jump at the sound when she heard him. Brad smiled softly.

“Sorry,” Trixie whispered, indicating she had been a bit noisy with the photo album.

“It's alright,” he assured her as he stuck both of his hands in their respected pocket and stood behind her.

“So those ballet trophies were yours,” she stated as she came upon a picture with Brad and his sisters when they were younger. Brad frowned, bracing himself as he was ready for her to make fun of him. “Do you still dance?” she asked, causing Brad to look at her in surprise.

“No,” his reply was sad. “I gave it up to play football,” he explained before leaning down and closing the album in her lap. His hand accidentally graced her thigh as he did so, which caused Trixie to immediately bolted up out her seat, the album crashing to the floor with her reaction.

Each stood frozen where they were for a moment. Brad was the first to speak, “I didn't mean-”

“It's alright,” Trixie cut him off as she leaned over to quickly pick up the album. “I don't mean to be so jumpy.” She then placed the album back on the bookshelf where she found it.

“It's not hard to understand, considering what happened.”

Trixie with her back still to him at the bookcase, closed her eyes and sighed. "I just want to forget about it. Like it didn't happen." She then turned to him. "Because nothing did happen, right?" She needed him to confirm it.

Brad did not miss the desperate note behind her tone. "Nothing happened." Trixie nodded her head as she wrapped her arms around herself. Brad then went and found his car keys, which were near the front door. “If you're ready.” He jingled the keys in his hands.

“Yeah,” she whispered and followed him out the door.

Trixie couldn't help but look at Brad curiously as she saw him go to the passenger side of his truck and was surprised to find that he had gone to hold the door open for her. “What?” was Brad's only response at her strange expression, sounding a bit annoyed. “The Bradster can be a gentleman.” He then held out his hand to help her into the large vehicle. Trixie was hesitant for a moment before slowly sliding her small hand into Brad's larger one.

They were softer than she expected for someone who had been playing football since middle school; but if she were to take a guess, he probably took care of his hands better than his teammates, because a injury to them meant he wouldn't be able to play his music, because the instruments, which appeared in every room of the house, didn't escape her notice. But then again, Brad was no punk either, she had seen him deck out a guy or two, for no just cause, so she knew he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Trixie shook her head from side to side with the thought, he was a strange one.

Once inside the truck, the two classmates only said what was necessary to get to Trixie's house, the rest of the way, they practically road in silence down the streets of Brooklyn. It took a good twenty minutes before they arrived in Trixie's neighborhood. “Here it is,” she pointed out as they came near her home. Brad pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine.

He then slid out and walked over to Trixie's side where he opened the door. Trixie turned in her seat and realized for the first time how high the truck really sat from the ground. Suddenly, she let out a small squeal as she found both of Brad's hands around her waist, who immediately jumped back, lifting both hands into the air, when he heard her.

“Sorry!” he said quickly, realizing how inappropriate his gesture was. “I have a little cousin, she's the only other girl who has ever been in my truck and when she gets out. . .” he paused. “I'm sorry,” he said again, noting that there had been a lot of apologies that morning. He then took a step back as he went back to holding the door.

Trixie, who was still in skirt and heels, smiled shyly at Brad. “Actually, help would be appreciated,” she asked of him softly.

“Uh-huh.” Brad stepped back in front of her, where she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he took a hold of her waist again. “Just admit you like being in the Bradster's big, strong, manly arms.” Trixie rolled her eyes, that was the Brad she knew.

Then as she was gently placed on the ground, Trixie finally realized something else was missing. “frack!” she yelled.

“What?” Brad responded thinking it had been directed towards him. “I didn't try to cop a feel or nothing!” he assured her.

“No,” she shook her head, “my purse is gone. I had my keys in there,” she explained. “frack!”

“There's no one home to open the door for you?” Brad asked.

“No,” she answered. “My mom's a pilot, she flew out last night and won't be back until next week. My dad's in the Air Force, he's been stationed overseas for two years.” She decided not to mention her grandmother, who was now living in some fancy nursing home upstate. “Can I borrow your cell?” she asked.

“Sure.” Brad dug in his pocket and tossed her his cell.

He only watched as she flipped it open and dialed who she needed. “Jakey, it's me,” were her first words, which for some reason, unknown to Brad, placed a frown on his face.

She them immediately pulled the phone from her ear. “Where the hell have you been!” Jake yelled at her.

“Hey!” Trixie yelled back into the phone. “Don't take the tone with me, Jake Long. You and Spud are the ones who ditched me, remember?” she made clear. “I didn't even wanted to go.” Brad couldn't hear the rest of Jake's side of the conversation. “Of course I didn't answer it. I lost it at that damn party, along with a few other things.” She then sighed. “I know you were worried,” she said softly. “I'm at home-” she was cut off. “Brad gave me a ride,” she smiled over in his direction as she mentioned him, but it soon dropped from her face. “Excuse you?” she said angrily. “I don't see how that's your business,” she looked as though she couldn't believe what Jake was saying.

Her eyes then grew wide as she realized why. “Oh my God, are you drunk?” Her fingers went to rub her temple as she felt a headache coming on for the second time that day. “Jesus,” she whispered. “Where's Spud?” she finally asked, but looked a little hurt when she heard the answer. “Where- where are you guys?” she asked. “So you're telling me, after ditching me, and not being able to reach me on my cell phone, you stayed with Kristy and whats-her-face?” Her expression was pained. “You were my ride, Jake. How did you expect me to get home, hitchhike?”

She then turned her back to Brad and took a few steps away from him as she was on the verge of tears. “What if something had happened to me?” she murmured. “What if- I don't know, what if I had been drugged and raped and maybe left in a ditch somewhere?” Tears finally fell from her eyes. “I am not being dramatic!” she yelled loudly into the phone.

Suddenly, the cell was yanked out of her hand. She turned quickly to see Brad place it up against his ear. “Yo, Doofus,” he began softly. “This conversation is over.” Jake sounded as if he wanted to protest, but Brad closed his phone before he had a chance to be heard. Brad eyes then fell back to Trixie, who looked a little lost where she stood. “Some friends you got there.”

“They're not like that all the time,” she defended her friends. “But when they do act like asses, they're the biggest ones they can be.”

“Come on.” Brad turned back to his truck. “I'll take you back to my place,” he suggested.

“Or I can climb up the fire escape and get in through my bedroom window,” she stated.

Brad gave her a skeptical look as his eyes raked her body. “In heels?” he asked.

“Well, I didn't say it was going to be easy,” she admitted before walking to the side of the house and down the alley.

“You're going to kill yourself,” Brad commented as he followed.

“Just give me a hand,” she demanded when she realized she couldn't quite reach the fire escape. She stepped aside as Brad reached up to pull it down for her. She was about to start climbing up when she rethought the situation. “Why don't you go first?” she insisted.

“Why?” Brad asked. “I wasn't going to peek or anything,” he said, but the small blush that came to his face told Trixie otherwise. Brad a bit embarrassed said nothing more as he began to climb up. He found her window unlock and easily made his way inside where he crashed into the bed underneath.

On his knees he stuck his head back out the window and saw Trixie struggling a bit. He reached out and as soon as she came into range, he grabbed both of her wrists firmly and pulled her inside. It was there that he lost his balance and fell onto the bed as she landed on top of him. Trixie pushed herself up and thanked him softly.

“No problem,” he replied in the same manner, as she seem to linger just a moment longer than she needed to before sitting up and taking her shoes off. Brad watched as she stretched her toes, which for some odd reason put a smile on his face.

She then suddenly turned to him. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Yeah, a little,” he told her.

“How about I make you something?” she suggested. “You know, in appreciation of what you've done for me.” Brad didn't turn down her offer. “Alright, just let me jump into the shower.” She then went over to her dresser drawer. On top of it she grabbed the remote. “Heads up.” She tossed it over and Brad caught it with little effort.

Then as Brad was distracted by the poker game that was playing on the sports channel, Trixie grabbed some clothes and headed towards the bathroom. She sighed in relief as the hot water rained down upon her slender form. She then examined one of her wrists, realizing that she was going to have a bruise where Brad had taken a hold of her so tightly when he had pulled her into the window, but she guess it beat falling.

After her shower, Trixie headed back to her room where she found Brad still laying on her bed. He had made himself quite at home as he had piled up her pillows before resting his hands underneath his head. He also had his legs crossed as his foot gently bounced in time with the song that was playing on the commercial he was watching. A small smile crossed Trixie's lips as she realized that the image was quite attractive.

Trixie then cleared her throat as she made her presence known to him. Once she had his attention, she walked over to the television and turned it off. “There's a TV in the kitchen,” she told him before once again heading out her bedroom door with Brad at her heels.

In the kitchen, Brad insisted that he help make breakfast. Trixie wasn't too sure about the idea as she reminded him about the Home Ec class they had together back in middle school.

Brad laughed at the memory before telling her, that once his eldest sister, Zahara, had taken a bite out of one of their homework assignments, that the following summer she drilled him until he learned how to cook a proper meal. “Did I mention that my sister is a culinary chef at a four star restaurant up in Manhattan?” Trixie looked impressed with the knowledge. “So trust me,” he began as he cracked two eggs into a bowl with one hand without taking his eyes off of Trixie, “I got skills.”

Trixie then sat down on one of the stools on the other side of the counter as she watched Brad prepare breakfast for the two of them, pointing out where things were located in the kitchen as she did. He was amazing to watch as he broke down what he was doing as if he were a chef with his own television show.

Then as he laid his creation in front of her, a satisfied look on his face, Trixie couldn't help but comment. “Wow," she sounded breathless. "I've known you for years, yet never knew what wonderful qualities you hid.”

The smile on his face didn't seem as bright. “That's because you only saw what you wanted to see, a dumb jock who played football.”

“I never thought you were dumb,” Trixie tried to assure him.

“Yeah, right,” he replied softly. Brad then found himself looking at his watch. “You know what? It's getting kind of late, I should be heading out,” he announced.

“What?” Trixie looked at him confused. “You haven't eaten anything yet."

“I'll grab something at home,” he said before heading back upstairs to find his shoes.

“Brad!” Trixie called after him as she headed upstairs after him. “What is your problem? All I did was give you a compliment.” She was completely confused about what had just happened. Brad found his way back into Trixie's room where he sat on the bed and put his shoes back on. “Brad?” she wanted an explanation.

After lacing up his Nikes, he looked up at her. “We're not friends,” he said suddenly, causing Trixie's head to sightly jolt back. “You were stranded at a party, I gave you a ride, and that's pretty much it. So stop being nice to me, it ain't you.” He stood up and walked towards her. “Because come Monday morning, when we're back at school, you and your boys will be right as rain and we'll all go back to playing the parts we've been playing since the third grade.” He then walked passed her and out the bedroom door.

Trixie stood in her room, surprised at his words. “Oh and Trixie.” She turned around to find Brad at her door again. “Make sure you lock her windows, it's dangerous to leave them open like that." He then cast his eyes downward as if debating something in his head. A moment later, his head rose again, his expression almost apologetic. "And I hope you enjoy your breakfast,” were his last words to her before heading downstairs and out the front door.
OoOoO
“Trishale A. Carter,” said a dark haired boy with a smirk as he ran his thumb across the photo of the girl on the the driver license he was holding before safely placing it into his wallet. He then slid it into his back pocket knowing very well that they would meet again.

To Be Continued. . .

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