TYSON CAINE: Book 1 in the Brothers in Arms Series (Brothers in Arms Book 1)

by Aleya Michelle

  I have never been one for jewelry—it’s funny because Mom used to love it. She would always match her earrings, shoes, and handbag.

  Learn to accessorize, Brooke. I can hear Mom’s sweet voice say to me.

  I love how I can still remember the sound of her voice. When I forget that sound, it will be an extremely sad day. Memories are the building blocks to soldiering on with life when someone passes. No matter how many days, weeks, months, or years pass, you still have your memories to keep them alive in your mind.

  “Those are definitely the best option,” Cassie says as we head to pay and go home after a successful shopping trip.

  ****

  I have dance practice Saturday morning, and then I fix a simple chicken burrito lunch to eat with Dad and Dylan. I play a few games of Pictionary since it’s my little bro’s favorite, and then start to prepare for my first date with Tyson. Oh, my God, the anticipation is killing me.

  I excitedly jump in the shower. I need to spend extra time shaving and primping my skin, even though I know nothing too involved will be happening on the first date. It’s just a girl thing. I’m sure Tyson won’t notice stray hairs on my legs or my eyebrows, but I pluck them anyway.

  I take extra time to shampoo and condition my hair, leaving the conditioner on a little longer than usual, and then I rinse and towel dry. I have a satin short-sleeved robe that Cassie bought me on last birthday, so I dress in that while I dry my hair and moisturize.

  “Hey, Brooke, good luck tonight,” Dad tells me as he appears at my door. He and Dylan are heading to the park to play a bit of soccer, then a boy’s dinner at White Castle.

  “Thanks, Dad, but it’s Tyson. I don’t need luck,” I say to him smiling, and he nods. He loves Tyson; they get along better than Jimmy and Tyson do.

  I blow-dry my hair, straightening each strand. It is long and thick, so it takes a good forty minutes, but it’s worth it when I’ve finished.

  I put on my matching black and white bra and undies set underneath, then pull my new striped dress over my head before I start my makeup so I don’t smudge it or get any on my new purchase.

  I was totally right about the heels; any higher and my butt would be hanging out of this dress. These sandals are perfect. It’s the first time I’ve worn them because the rhinestones are a little too girly for me, but I’ll make an exception tonight. God, I’m wearing a dress, earrings, makeup, and bling. I think it's safe to say I’m being girly tonight.

  “You would be proud of me, Momma,” I say out loud. I find myself talking to Mom sometimes; it just feels natural.

  Time to make me look pretty. I spend a little longer on my makeup, trying to get my foundation flawless, and then add bronzing powder and blush. Then I go out on a limb and add a line of blue eyeliner under my eyes to match my jewelry. A few coats of black mascara, lip gloss, and I’m done. I’m extremely happy with the end result.

  Cassie was right about the jewelry; it is perfect. Not too crazy but just right. I snap a quick selfie and send to my bestie.

  Me:

  I scrub up pretty good.

  Cassie:

  You are smoking hot, babe. I’d do you.

  I laugh out loud at that comment. Oh God. It makes me wonder if Tyson will see me that way.

  I apply my roll-on deodorant and a few spritzes of my perfume Woman by Versace, which was a present from Tyson’s mom. God, I love all the ladies in my life. I’d be clueless without them.

  Tyson:

  Hey, pretty lady.

  Me:

  Hey, you …

  Tyson:

  I’m ready and very excited to see you.

  Me:

  I’m almost done. You can come now if you want.

  Tyson:

  Awesome. I’ll leave in five.

  I glance at my clock and see it’s only six-fifteen. It makes me smile knowing Tyson is excited to see me. I can’t wait to see his face when he sees me in this dress.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, I hear Tyson’s usual three knocks at the door.

  I breathe out a nervous breath. I check myself in the mirror for the hundredth time and head out to answer. “I’m coming,” I shout.

  I hurry toward the front door. There he is outside all dressed up and looking fine. I unlock the latch, and he opens the screen door. Holy hell, he looks hot. Dressed in dark jeans, a black shirt that is tight around his biceps, his hair is gelled and spiked up just enough. He is grinning widely as I see his eyes check out every inch of me from my dolled-up face, straight and shiny hair, striped dress, and then all the way down my legs.

  “Damn, Brooke. You look amazing,” he declares, and I feel my cheeks ache from the wideness of my smile.

  “Thanks. You look pretty amazing yourself,” I compliment him back. He walks inside closing the door, inching closer to me. I get a whiff of his aftershave, and I’m jelly on the spot, as he gets closer and closer. He only pauses to hold my hand and then he kisses me softly on my cheek.

  “You smell so good,” he admits as his face makes his way closer to mine again. Our eyes meet; he glances at my lips and moves in for a kiss. When his lips meet mine, I feel hungry for him. My hands are in his hair as we kiss more passionately than we ever have before. The lust and tension are extremely evident.

  We pull back for air, both with grins on or faces. “Well, so far this is the best night of my life,” Tyson declares, and I’m stunned by his comment.

  “Come on, Casanova, let’s go to dinner. No more kissing until after we eat,” I tell him bossily.

  “Sounds like a plan. I will try to control myself,” he replies joking.

  “Good boy,” I say winking at him.

  Something about being all dressed up and the way Tyson is looking at me is giving me Dutch courage.

  “Seriously though, Brooke, when did you get so hot?” he asks as I grab my bag all ready to see exactly where he is taking me.

  I just stare at him and laugh. He thinks I’m hot! I totally just squealed inside.

  ****

  We chat about football, family, and dancing while listening to Nickelback; we have been driving for twenty-five minutes so far. Tyson finally pulls up to the central part of town where I have been before a few times. There is a group of cafes and restaurants in a row.

  I still have no idea where he is taking me. The suspense is insane.

  “Okay, I hope I chose the right one,” he tells me as he comes around and opens my door to help me out like the gentleman he is.

  “Which one are we going to, Ty?” I inquire feeling impatient—the suspense is killing me.

  He keeps quiet and holds my hand guiding me. We pass the Chinese restaurant, the Mexican, and the steakhouse. Honestly, they would all be perfect.

  We stop at La Porchetta, a cute little Italian restaurant that everyone raves about.

  “Here we are. I hope it's okay.” He looks nervous.

  “It’s perfect. I’ve heard fantastic reviews,” I declare smiling as we walk inside.

  We are greeted by a maitre d’. “Welcome to La Porchetta. Table for Caine, I assume?” he questions. I’m impressed; I’m sure they must get many people through here.

  “Yes,” Tyson tells him and looks at me also wondering how he knew who we were. The host leads us to a beautiful table decorated with a gray tablecloth, gorgeous candles, and a mixed arrangement of flowers. It looks so romantic. We take our seats as a waiter comes over.

  “What can I get you both to drink?” he questions us smiling.

  “I’ll have a Sierra Mist, please,” I answer.

  “I’ll have a Coke,” Tyson tells him.

  “Can I get you some sparkling or still water for the table?” he asks.

  “Still water, please,” I answer; water is always a must. He scurries off to complete our drink order.

  “Oh, Tyson, this place is so perfect for our first date,” I confess to him, and he reaches forward to hold my hand and rub his thumb along my skin.

  “I’m s
o relieved you like it. Nothing like a bit of pressure to choose the right place,” he replies smiling.

  “Here we have a Coke for the gentleman and a Sierra Mist for the beautiful lady,” the waiter declares making me smile from the compliment.

  “Would you like some bruschetta or garlic bread to start your meal?” he asks us. Tyson looks at me, and I nod.

  “Yes, please, one of each,” he responds with the perfect answer.

  “Here are two menus and a list of the specials. I’ll be back to take your orders,” he tells us and heads off on his mission.

  “Looks like someone had their double shot espresso today,” I say jokingly. Tyson chuckles and nods, agreeing he is definitely an energetic waiter.

  The garlic bread and bruschetta are divine; they melt in my mouth. I choose the seafood marinara and then Tyson orders the same.

  I love carbonara or Alfredo, but honestly, it doesn’t agree with my hips or stomach. Dancing is all cardio, so I’ve learned the best foods to eat for my body.

  Of course, I don’t deny myself the odd cheeseburger and fries.

  “This food is mouth-watering, Tyson,” I tell him as we eat in unison.

  “It is definitely awesome,” he agrees, digging into his pasta.

  This is the best first date ever!

  We share a passionfruit sorbet for dessert. Talk about mouth-watering, it is sensational. The taste is the perfect combination of sweet and sour.

  A moan escapes my lips from how good it tastes.

  “God, Brooklyn, you are forbidden from making noises like that,” Tyson tells me, and I notice he is sweating just a little. I feel the sexual tension between us just as much as he does.

  Tyson pays for dinner. It is hard to let him pay, but I had a discussion with Dad yesterday. He told me it’s tradition for the guy to pay on the first date, and I don’t want to hurt Tyson’s feelings.

  Walking hand in hand back to the truck is surreal. I don’t know why I was ever worried about taking the next step with him.

  “It’s only nine o’clock, Brooke. Do you want to go anywhere else?” he asks as we reach his pickup.

  “I’m not ready for the date to be over yet,” I tell him honestly.

  “What about we drive to the lake or the lookout? Somewhere we can be alone.”

  “Let’s go to the lookout,” I respond. True, it has s a reputation for being the place to hook up, but tonight, it sounds perfect.

  “Okay. It’s such a beautiful night. I bet we can see awesome views of the lake,” he exclaims.

  Ten minutes later, we drive up the long, winding road and park along the embankment. We climb out and walk to the lookout railing.

  “You were right, Ty. Check out all of those stunning colors on the water from the moon’s reflection, they illuminate the lake.”

  “Definitely stunning,” he replies. I look at him, but he’s not even looking at the view, just at me.

  I smile and roll my eyes. “I thought you wanted to see the view, Mr. Caine?”

  “I have the perfect view right now.” His compliments warm my heart.

  I smile and walk toward him. He opens his arms, and we embrace. He makes me feel so safe and secure; his strong arms around me are like a cocoon, and I never want to come out. I look up at his face, our gazes meet, and he tilts his head until his lips are on mine. The kiss is so perfect, sweet, and tender. He pulls me in tighter, and we deepen the kiss as his tongue enters to find mine. I get goose bumps as my tongue meets his, and my arms move up into his hair.

  The moment becomes more heated as we kiss more passionately with need and want. He pulls me flush against him, where I feel his hardness. Oh wow, I’ve never experienced that before, but it’s sending more goose bumps along my arms, and I feel an ache between my legs that is unfamiliar. We kiss until we’re both breathless and then we stay sheltered in each other’s arms, feeling so close.

  “Tonight has been so perfect, Tyson, thank you,” I tell him.

  “No, thank you, Brooke, for agreeing to take things to the next level. You mean the world to me. Now, we can show each other just what it feels like to fall in love,” he confesses so sweetly. Saying the L-word even in a sentence is intense, but I totally feel the same way.

  We kiss one last time before we drive home. Tyson needs to stay in the good books with Dad and dropping me home past curfew won’t give him any brownie points. He drives me home with one hand on my knee. I shuffle closer and smile at this gorgeous guy who now belongs to me. What the hell was I so scared of? This is better than I ever imagined.

  We pull up into my driveway, and neither of us can stop smiling.

  “You outdid yourself, Tyson. You know every time you will have to beat the last date, right?” I tease him.

  “You are picking the next one,” he declares smirking.

  “You got it,” I respond and lean in to give him a passionate good night kiss.

  I’ve never been a lady, so why start now?

  I’m amazed at just how natural and easy we have fallen into step with our relationship. I shouldn’t have expected any less. I mean we have been best friends for five years; I’m pretty sure she knows everything there is to know about me. Well, except the boring things only a mother knows, like how I like my socks rolled or the way I like to have a glass of water before bed.

  I can’t wait to ask Brooklyn to the senior prom. She isn’t a girly-girl, but I’m sure she will rock it in a dress; I like the thought of her all dressed up again like our first date.

  Damn, that black and white dress was smoking hot.

  Tyler is a junior, but I’m sure he will be prom king next year. A couple of buddies say I’m one of the finalists, but honestly, I hate all that stuff. Like I’ve said before, I like to sink into the background. Another thing we have in common—Brooklyn and I don’t seek out the limelight.

  Even when we were just friends, I felt like I would do anything for her, and every day that feeling intensifies. I never realized how devoted and dedicated you become in a relationship. If she told me tonight that she wanted to run away, just me and her, I would honestly follow her anywhere, always and forever.

  Every time I have her in my arms, she captivates and consumes me. I just want to hold her tight and never let her go.

  I can’t help but wonder how many other people in the world have feelings so deep. We are the lucky ones to have this undeniable connection. Brooke is my very own earth angel, and I’m just a fool in love with her. I’m lucky enough to be able to watch her latest dance recital.

  “Knock ‘em dead, babe,” I say as she heads backstage, and I make my way to the numbered seats in the audience.

  “Thanks, Ty, I’ll try,” she replies kissing me softly. Her lips are sweet as honey, perfectly heart-shaped, plump, and full.

  I find my seat. “Hello, Mr. Waters, how are you? Hey, Dylan,” I say to Brooklyn’s dad and brother.

  “It’s great to see you here, Tyson,” Mr. Waters replies. He has asked me repeatedly to call him Malcolm, but I’ve been taught that respecting adults is calling them Mr. or Mrs., so I’ve yet to cave.

  Dylan gives me a high five. He’s a cool kid, and he has a good head on his shoulders, especially having such a traumatic experience losing his mother at a young age.

  The lights dim as a few more people take their seats. I’m really excited to see this show—the theme is jungle fever, so I’m sure my little wild cat will look incredible. The music starts, and it’s ironically “In the Jungle,” so the dancers all crawl onto the stage in their tiger and lion outfits. I can’t make out who is who just yet. Then the music changes to a much more upbeat tune—“Party Rock Anthem”—that gets them shuffling.

  The lions jump to their feet, all moving in sync and fast to the tune. They jump, jive, shimmy and really dance their butts off. I spot Brooklyn, looking amazing as a lion. Next are the tigers that are just as good. Other animals dancing include a giraffe, elephant, and buffalo.

  Next song change “Here’s Johnny”
is extremely fast. Wow, they kill it with double-time movements. Brooklyn is front and center, and I’m in awe of her talent. Every move is in time with the beat of the music; every movement is precise.

  I can’t deny she is smoking hot up there, yet she is still conservative. She could never look cheap. Damn, in the tight leotard and stockings it doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination.

  Brooklyn is all class, a real lady, especially as the female version of a lion. She is my lioness, and I feel like the king of the jungle. I will do my job to protect her from anyone or anything negative in her life.

  One of Brooklyn’s biggest attributes is her infectious personality. We are always laughing and smiling. On stage, her smile is wide and real; it truly shows how much she loves dancing.

  Somehow, I see her blue eyes. Like a laser, they burn into my chest, and they are incredible. Her hair is like cinnamon but teased into a wild arrangement for her character.

  I feel my heart thump as if it was jolted by an electric current. Just watching her on the stage now knowing she is mine is an incredible feeling. We are together and connected in so many ways. I’m one hundred percent committed to this gorgeous girl.

  My feelings scare me at just how deep they run.

  The way I feel for Brooklyn is heavy duty—I can’t imagine that battery ever running out. It’s more than just physical attraction. We connect deeply, spiritually even. My feelings are so powerful for this exceptional woman.

  She inspires me to love.

  As far as everything changing now that we are boyfriend and girlfriend, it has only changed for the better. So far so good.

  God, I hope to hell this works out. Friends like Tyson are hard to find and keep. But when he touches me, I feel a flame ignite deep inside. Right now, I don’t regret moving from friends to lovers, not even a tiny bit. But let’s just hope it stays this way.

  The public display of affection is the hardest part for me so far. Tyson wants to show the world I’m his, he wants to hold my hand, kiss me, and embrace me whenever and wherever he wants.

  I try to avoid all eyes on us, especially when we are together. I already hear the whispers in the corridors; the cheerleaders have been making an extra effort to cheer on Tyson and hug him before and after games. It’s so petty, but I shouldn’t expect anything less. I feel nervous about being watched when we are in the cafeteria or walking through the halls. I hope the feeling passes because I love holding his hand and being by his side.