My Heart Beats For You

Created by toridx33 and read 1473 times.

Chapter 1

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(Brooke’s POV)
I detest basketball. I hate it, with a passion.

You’re probably thinking, why? Well, that’s just it. I have no idea why. I hate watching it, I hate playing it, I hate everything about it.

Enough about basketball, let me tell you about myself. My name is Brooke; I’m an ordinary 17-year-old, and I’m turning eighteen in November. I have brownish-blonde hair and blue eyes. I’m sort of short. I get made fun of a lot for that. I play soccer, so my legs are kind of muscular. I have good grades; if I didn’t, my parents would kill me. I’m a senior at Stuyvesant High School in New York. Well, not for long…

We’re moving tomorrow. The last few days have consisted of packing, cleaning, packing, and doing things we want to do in New York before we leave. Oh, and more packing. I never knew we had so much stuff.

My mom, my dad, my 15-year-old brother, Luke, and I all picked one thing we want to do before we move. Luke wanted to go to Le Bernardin, a super expensive seafood restaurant. Of course. We had never been there. It was really good, even though we spent over $150.

Mom wanted to go visit the Statue of Liberty and walk up to the top. Did you know there were around 350 stairs in that thing?! I’m never walking up those stairs again. I felt like my legs were going to fall off.

I wanted to go to the Cheesecake Factory. We ordered dinner, and I ordered a brownie sundae cheesecake. Best thing ever. It was so good. It had a cherry, and I tied the stem in a knot with my tongue after I ate the cherry. They say if you can do that then you’re a good kisser. Oh well.

Dad wanted to go to a New York Knicks game against the Heat. Of course he picked that, since I hate basketball and he hates me. Just kidding, he doesn’t really hate me. I’m a daddy’s girl. I’m closer to him than I am to my mom.

That’s enough about me and my family. Let’s get to the story.

My mom, my dad, my brother, and I are on our way to Madison Square Garden to see the Knicks play the Heat before we move tomorrow.

I have my iPod ear buds in, blocking out the world. I really don’t want to go to this game. I would rather stay home, laying on my bed and listening to music. But no, we had to pack up my laptop and bed today. We all have to sleep on blow-up mattresses tonight. We’re leaving at 5:00 AM tomorrow morning.

Luke elbows me in my ribs. I jerk my ear buds out of my ears. “What?” I nearly scream at him.

“Calm down, God. I was just going to tell you that we’re here,” he says, acting hurt.

“Whatever,” I mumble, winding my ear buds around my iPod and putting it in my coat pocket.

We walk into the arena quickly, trying to get to our seats as fast as we could. It is almost time for the game to start. Of course we got floor seats; my dad wouldn’t settle for anything else for our last day in New York.

We have no idea how to get to the floor seats, so we go to the customer service desk and ask. They ask to see our tickets and we show them all four. “Cody, show these lovely people to the floor seats, will you?” the lady at the desk yells.

A boy about nineteen comes out of a door behind the desk. “Yes ma’am,” Cody says.
He’s a good-looking boy. He’s about 6’1” and has the whitest smile I have ever seen. He has jet-black hair and blue eyes; a great combination if you ask me. I get a good look of his toned arms as he jumps over the counter.

“Cody!” the lady scolds.

“Sorry ma’am, it’s quicker and more fun than the other way,” he says, flashing her a brilliant smile.

He starts walking and we follow closely behind. I had taken my iPod out of my pocket and put only one ear bud in, just in case anybody wanted to talk to me. I was closest to Cody, so when he says, “So have you guys and girls been to a Knicks game before?” I was the one to answer.

“Yeah, we have, but we’ve never gotten floor seats. We decided to get them this time because we’re moving across the country tomorrow,” I respond.

“Oh, dang. Where are you moving to?” he inquires, dropping back a few feet to talk to me.

“Some house in Los Angeles,” I reply. I don’t know what it was with my parents and big cities; they just like them for some reason.

“Oh, that sucks. How come?” he asks. Gosh, what was with all these questions?

“My dad’s job,” I say. I want to keep the answers short and sweet. I’m not in the mood for all these questions.

“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed.

By that time, we had reached the entrance to the floor seats. “Alright, here you are,” Cody says.

“Thank you,” my dad responds, shaking his hand.

We walk through the entrance and start down the row of seats. I look down at my ticket that says my seat is number 32. I count the seats until I get to my seat and sit down.

Taking my iPod out and putting it in my pocket, I look at the clock. Two minutes until the game starts. Great. Let the torture begin.

I look to my left to see a man sitting there. He has jet-black hair like Cody, but his is perfectly spiked up. His skin is flawlessly tanned.

I feel like I have seen him before, but I can’t figure out where. School? No, he looks too old to still be in school. Oh well, he was hot.

The game finally starts and at the end of the first quarter it is 23-25. The Heat is winning. They are doing some lame show that they always do at the end of every quarter when some guy with a camera comes over to the man sitting beside me and sticks it pretty much all up in his face.

“Excuse me,” the announcer says. “We have a very special guest here today. One of the stars from the Twilight Saga movies: Taylor Lautner!”

I look up at the big screen to see the smiling face of the man that is sitting beside me.

No way. No fucking way. This isn’t real. Oh my God. I’m sitting beside Taylor Lautner!

Luke nudges me and says, “Brooke, that’s Taylor Lautner!”

“I know! I’m sitting beside him!” I almost scream. I didn’t want Taylor to hear me. He might think I’m some kind of crazy fan girl.

I decide to stay calm. It’s not like the world famous Taylor Lautner is going to give me time out of his day. Whatever.

The game had started again by then, and the Knicks have scored a three pointer. That puts them in the lead.

The point guard for the Heat has the ball and the guy who is guarding him slaps it out of his hand. The next thing I know, the ball is hurtling toward my face.

I curl up into the fetal position so the ball won’t hurt me. I hear a slap that sounds like skin hitting a basketball, actually, but I know that the ball hasn’t hit me. I look up to see Taylor throwing the ball to the referee.

“You owe me; I saved your life,” Taylor says, giving me the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.

“Hubbanackadoo,” is all I can get out. Hubbanackadoo? What the hell? He probably thinks I’m retarded now. Way to go, Brooke.

He laughs. “Can you speak?”

I smile. “Of course I can. I was just surprised to talked to me, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Well, I didn’t think a famous actor like you would give me the time of day.”

“I care a lot about my fans.”

“What if I’m not a fan?”

“Well then, I guess I can’t talk to you.” He sticks his tongue out at me like a little kid.

“Fine.” I turn my back to him. Apparently that makes him believe that I was serious.

“You know I was just kidding, right?” he asks, leaning towards me.

“Of course!” I reply, laughing. “I was kidding too.”

“Good. I thought you were being for real.”

“No, I was not being ‘for real’.” I say, teasing him.

I take my phone out because I feel it vibrate. I look at it and I have a text from my best friend, Tasha. She is as torn up as I am about me moving, so she decides to text me every minute of the day.

From: BFF<3
Message: Hey girl, how's the game? (;

To: BFF<3
Message: Great! You'll never guess who I'm sitting beside!

“Oh, I guess your friends are more important than me,” Taylor says, acting hurt.

“Cocky much?” I tease.

“Mean much?”

“No, actually I’m nice. You just get on my nerves.” I stick my tongue out. My turn to be the little kid.

He smiles. About that time, the Knicks steal the ball and he turns his attention back to the game for a little while. I get another text.

From: BFF<3
Message: Who? Luke? :p

To: BFF<3
Message: No, you'll never guess it. I guess I'm just gonna have to tell you. Taylor Lautner!

A few minutes later I get a text back.

From: BFF<3
Message: You're lying. Prove it.

“Hey, Taylor. Will you take a picture with me so I can prove to my friend that you’re beside me?” I ask, tapping Taylor on the shoulder.

He laughs. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s make it a good one.”

I hold my phone up so we can take the picture. “Smile pretty,” I say. He slides his arm around my waist. Don’t have a heart attack, don’t have a heart attack. I smile and take the picture. I look at it. Taylor has his head turned towards me and his tongue sticking out like he’s going to lick me.

“Nice smile,” I state, laughing.

“Let me see!” he says, grabbing my phone.

Taylor looks at the picture and then puts my phone in his pocket. “Taylor! Give it back! I was texting somebody!” I yell, slapping him on the arm and laughing.

“Okay, okay. Hold on. Let me do something,” he responds. He turns so I can’t see my phone screen.

“Are you looking through my texts?” I accuse.

“Nah, I’m not like that.”

“Good.”

About thirty seconds later he gives me my phone back. “Finally!” I say, and send the picture to Tasha. I can’t wait until she sees it.

Just to make sure, I check my pictures and texts to see if Taylor did anything to them.
Nothing. Hmm. Contacts? Surely he wouldn’t have put his number in here, but it won’t hurt to check, I think. I go to my contacts and scroll down to the letter T. There it is. In plain view. Taylor Lautner is AWESOME! the contact says.

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