Page 28 of First Echo

What was happening to me? This warmth I felt around her, this strange pull—it wasn't something I'd experienced before. Or if I had, I'd never allowed myself to acknowledge it. With Brooke, though, it was becoming harder to ignore.

When we reached the resort, the lobby was quiet, just a few night owls still gathered by the dying fire. We took the stairs to our floor, our footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. At our door, Brooke fumbled with the key, her injured hand still clumsy.

"Here, let me," I offered, taking the key from her.

Our fingers brushed during the exchange, a brief contact that sent an unexpected jolt through me. I tried to ignore it, focusing on unlocking the door, but I could feel her watching me, standing close enough that I could sense her warmth.

Inside our room, the air felt charged somehow, as if the easy camaraderie we'd found at the bar had transformed into something more complicated, more intense. I busied myself with taking off my coat, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands, my eyes, my racing thoughts.

"That was fun," I said finally, breaking the silence. "We should do it again sometime."

Brooke looked at me with those thoughtful brown eyes, a small smile playing at her lips. "Are you suggesting we hang out voluntarily? Outside of this trip?"

"Maybe," I said, my voice softer than intended. "Would that be so terrible?"

She studied me for a long moment, something shifting in her expression.

"No," she said finally. "Not terrible at all.

" Then she added, "It's a date." Her eyes widened slightly.

"Well, not a date date, obviously. Just a.

..hang out thing. Not that you're not—I mean, you're obviously—" She gestured vaguely at me, her usual composure completely absent.

"You know what I mean. You're...and I'm just..

.oh god." She ran a hand through her hair, a flush creeping up her neck. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

I stared at her, caught off guard by this completely different version of Brooke.

Gone was the sarcastic, confident girl who always seemed to have a quick comeback.

In her place was someone flustered, nervous, endearingly awkward.

It was bizarre seeing her like this—Brooke Winters, at a loss for words—but there was something captivating about it too.

Something that made that strange flutter in my chest intensify.

"Yeah," I said, unable to hold back a smile. "You're rambling. It's...cute."

We stood there, suspended in that moment of possibility, neither moving closer nor pulling away. The silence stretched between us, charged with something I couldn't—or perhaps didn't want to—name. My heart was beating too fast, my thoughts racing in directions that both thrilled and terrified me.

"I should go check on Sam," I blurted suddenly, desperate to break the tension. "I, um, need to get something from his room. For tomorrow."

The words tumbled out unnaturally, a transparent excuse even to my own ears. Something flickered across Brooke's face—a brief shadow of disappointment, quickly masked by her usual neutral expression.

"Oh," she said, her voice carefully level. "Sure. Tell him I said hi."

The sarcasm in her last words was gentle, almost affectionate, which somehow made it worse. I nodded, unable to meet her eyes, suddenly desperate for air that didn't feel so heavy with unspoken things.

"I won't be long," I promised, though I had no idea if that was true. I just needed space, needed to escape this confusing tangle of emotions that seemed to tighten around me whenever I was near her.

"No rush," she replied, already turning away, reaching for her book on the nightstand. "I'll probably just read for a bit."

I grabbed my key card and practically fled the room, closing the door perhaps a little too firmly behind me.

The hallway was mercifully empty, the plush carpet muffling my hurried footsteps as I made my way toward the stairs.

I had no real destination in mind—Sam was probably with Julian, and the last person I wanted to see right now was my brother.

What was happening to me? This wasn't like me at all. I was Madeline Hayes—confident, self-assured, always in control. Yet here I was, running away from a quiet moment with Brooke like it threatened everything I thought I knew about myself.

I reached for my phone to text Sam, only to find my pocket empty. With a sigh of frustration, I realized I'd left it back in the room—probably on my nightstand or fallen between the sheets. Now I'd have to go back and face Brooke again, with no real explanation for my abrupt departure.

I made my way back to our room, my footsteps slowing as I approached the door. What would I say? How would I explain?

Sorry I ran out like that. I just couldn't handle how you make me feel. How was that for honest?

I paused outside our door for a moment, gathering courage for what should have been the simple act of entering my own room. My heart was racing, my palm sweaty against the key card. This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.

It's just Brooke, I told myself. Just your roommate. Your chemistry tutor. The girl who punched your brother. The girl whose laugh makes your chest feel tight, whose eyes you can't stop thinking about, whose presence has somehow become both comforting and terrifying at once. Oh fuck me.

With a deep breath, I raised my hand to knock, then changed my mind and swiped the key card instead. Whatever awaited me on the other side of that door, I'd have to face it eventually.