by Claire Adams
“I know, I know, but just… I dunno, just don't do that.”
“Well, what are we gonna do about it?”
I stood for a while, contemplating the issue.
“Let's just go fix breakfast and forget about it,” I suggested.
“No way! Come on, Bee! That's such a defeatist attitude. We can't just let them get away with this.”
“Maybe it's a once-off thing. I mean, we heard how trashed they all got last night at their party. Maybe this is just something that happens once in a while, you know?”
The determination in her eyes to grab the bat resting in the corner behind my door and smack the wall a few times with it faded a little. I could see that she was weighing the pros and cons of what I'd said, so I added a little more insight to help calm her down.
“It's not a great idea to start off on the wrong foot with new neighbors when you've just moved into a new place,” I expressed, hoping my words would help sway her opinion and defuse the situation. “Seriously, we wanna have a good relationship with everyone else in the building. You don't wanna be known as 'that mean-tempered bitch from 13A' now, do you?”
The frown on her face morphed into a smile.
“I’ve been called worse.”
I cocked my head to one side and glared at her with a motherly expression.
“Alright, alright,” she said. “We can let it slide this time. I guess.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“But!” she added, holding up a stern finger of warning, “if I hear that crap again, I am gonna reach for the softball bat and give that wall a big ol' bitch slap or two! I don't want those two meatheads next door thinking they can make forcing their…their…porn noises into our home a regularly scheduled event.”
We both chuckled as we turned around and walked out of my room. I closed the door behind me as we left in an effort to prevent the muffled sounds from following us into the living room.
“So, what do you think about Chris now?” I said, jabbing her playfully in the ribs.
She shot me a shit-eating grin. “Probably something similar to what you think about Emerson. After all, we don't know which one of the two is the stud behind that wall, now, do we?”
I felt another wave of heat rippling along the surface of my skin.
“True, we don't know,” I replied somewhat coolly. “And, it’s probably best that we don’t know; let's just forget about it, alright?”
“Alright. Come on, there’s bacon and eggs in the fridge with our names all over them. And I picked up some frozen blueberries yesterday, too. A nice blueberry smoothie is just the right way to start off a Saturday while we cook breakfast. What do ya think?”
I smiled, still trying to force the unwanted thoughts of Emerson and his bimbo girlfriend out of my mind.
“Sounds like a plan.”
***
The sun was starting to hang low in the sky when I noticed my head was beginning to hurt a little. I'd been reading through the first few chapters of my physics textbook for a while. A glance at the clock made me realize I’d been at it for nearly two hours. I took my reading glasses off, applied pressure to my temples for a few moments, and then stood up from the desk and stretched. My lower back was stiff from sitting in the desk chair too long. What I needed was a little exercise, but I hadn’t had the time to unpack my running shoes. I did feel like getting some fresh air and sunshine while the daylight lasted, though.
I walked through to the living room where Leslie was curled up on the sofa with a steaming hot mug of coffee, watching a documentary on The History Channel about ancient Egypt.
“Brushing up for the new semester, too?” I asked.
“Yeah, I thought seeing as I've got a minor in world history, getting in some History Channel might not be a bad thing.”
I nodded. “I'm heading out for a walk. I might stop by the supermarket down the block while I'm out; you need anything?”
“Umm, I guess we just need some milk. Though, chocolate chip cookies would be nice, too. And, what are we gonna have for dinner?”
I laughed at her ongoing list. “I was thinking pasta with some veggies, something nice and healthy. Especially if you’re going to force me to eat cookies.”
“Yeah, I like the sound of that. Let's do it.”
“The cookies or the dinner?” I joked.
“Both!”
“Okay, I'll pick up some veggies, too, then.”
“Enjoy the walk. Looks like it's a beautiful afternoon to be out.”
“Yeah, if I get back early enough maybe we should take the bikes out for a ride? Head to the park or something?”
“Sure thing. Be careful.”
“Will do. See ya in a bit.”
I walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind me and humming an Adele tune. Just as I reached the front walkway of the apartment block, I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.
As much as I would have liked to say otherwise, my heart started beating a little faster knowing that Emerson was just a matter of feet away on his bike. I hesitated at the edge of the breezeway that ran along the front of the apartments, peering at the street through the shrubs. I felt a little nervous and awkward about seeing him, especially after yesterday with that bimbo, and of course, after the sounds I'd heard coming through the walls.
I saw him straddling his bike which he had just started up. And there, climbing onto the back, dressed in a skin-tight, massively-revealing outfit, was that Melissa girl. I immediately stepped back behind the door, feeling my heart thumping in my chest.
“Come on,” I whispered to myself. “You're being totally irrational! You don't even like the guy! Why are you getting all jealous about him and his skanky girlfriend? Just walk out, say a polite hello, and keep on walking. Seriously! Why are you hiding like a confused adolescent?!”
I was being ridiculous. There was no logical reason for me to be feeling like I was, especially for some douchebag, hot-shot jock who was the polar opposite of my type. I drew in a deep breath, composed myself, and made sure I had an expression of calm neutrality on my face, and then I walked out, looking as nonchalant and carefree as possible.
“Hi, Emerson. Hi…um…what was your name again?” is what I was going to say. But I didn’t get the chance.
Granted, it was petty, but I sure as hell wasn't going to give that poor excuse for a woman the satisfaction of knowing that she'd made enough of an impression on me for me to remember her name. Even if the reason I did remember, it was because she’d made a terrible impression.
I strutted down the walkway, running a hand through my hair which was, I had to admit, looking especially sexy and luscious for a bummed out Saturday. I fully prepared myself to dish out my cool disdain to jock-boy and bimbo, but I was quickly stopped in my tracks.
He was already on the bike, his helmet on, glancing up and down the street to make sure it was clear. She was hanging on his back, her arms wrapped tight around his torso like those ugly little primates with the big bulging eyes I’d seen at a zoo once.
He clicked the rumbling machine into gear and with a fistful of loud, roaring throttle, he took off at a blistering pace and quickly disappeared around a bend at the end of the road as smoothly as any racer I’d ever seen handle a bike on TV. There was something sexy and alluring about it.
But more than the unwanted impulse of attraction, which I quickly suppressed, I felt disappointment. After gearing myself up for a performance — I'd wanted to show him and Melissa just how little I cared about them — I'd been denied an audience.
Okay, so maybe it was more than a little petty. In fact, it was pretty full-on bitchy. I had no clue what had come over me. I shook my head and shook out my arms too, trying to rid myself of this strange, uncomfortable feeling that seemed to take hold of me whenever I saw Emerson.
There was only one way to get past it. I needed to avoid him and his chauvinist friend, Chris, as much as possible. Given that they lived next door to me, I r
ealized that might prove difficult. Nonetheless, I had to do it.
Avoid. At all costs.
CHAPTER SIX
Emerson
“Come on, bro, the dive bar on 4th has their two for one special! Remember? Last Sunday of every month. Let's hit it, I bet there'll be some talent there. In fact, I know there'll be talent — hot, fresh talent that just arrived for the new semester! This is a college town, ya know.”
“Chris, dude, I told you already. I've got to do some prelim reading before the first day of class tomorrow. Seriously, man, I need to get through these articles. And, you should be brushing up a bit yourself. You barely scraped through last semester.”
Chris' expression morphed instantly from a cheesy grin to a scowl. He looked away from me and shook his head. “Bro, you're acting like…like a freakin' old man these days. Where's the E-Train I'm used to, huh? Man, for the past month you've been so damn serious. Lighten up!”
“Chris, we've been out drinking two nights in a row. We got back from the club at…what was it? Six in the morning Saturday? Then fourteen hours later, we were hitting it hard again. And that carried on until three this morning. Seriously, man, aren't you even feeling the slightest bit tired after all that? I know I am. If I do it again tonight, I guarantee that I won't be able to wake up for class tomorrow. And even if I do manage to get to class, I'll probably fall asleep halfway through. I've gotta have at least one quiet, sober, early evening. Seriously.”
Chris got up, obviously upset. “Whatever man. I'm gonna call Brent. He'll go have beers with me, at least. Enjoy your books, bro,” he mumbled as he left the apartment.
I shook my head and sighed as I watched him leave. He really could act like such a spoiled child sometimes. We weren't eighteen anymore. I didn’t know when he’d realize that I needed to start taking life a bit more seriously and, quite frankly, so did he. However, there didn't seem to be any way to get through to him, so what could I do? I leaned back in my chair and resumed reading, trying to get my mind off Chris and the tension building in our friendship.
Several hours later, I closed my books and yawned, stretching my arms out in front of me. I felt proud of myself at that moment. I'd managed to get through everything I needed to read before my first class the next morning. To be honest, I should have read most of it a week before instead of procrastinating and wasting a bunch of time partying and then having to do it all at the last minute. But at least I'd had the determination to get it done, even if that happened to be the night before class.
I got up, stretched out a bit more, grimacing as my arms and chest burned from the post-workout pain from the grueling Saturday session, and then headed to the kitchen to whip up a protein shake before bed.
As I was shaking the whey powder and milk in my gym bottle, for whatever reason the Ice Queen next door popped into my mind. I found myself wondering what she was going to be studying and if I'd see her around campus. I wondered if she had a boyfriend and maybe that’s why she was so stand-offish.
I stopped shaking the bottle and caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the kitchen window. I raised a skeptical eyebrow, looking at my reflection disapprovingly, and started to talk to myself.
“Dude, what are you doing? Why are you thinking about the Ice Queen again? Seriously, you have nothing in common with her. As a matter of fact, stop wasting your time thinking about girls, period. You gotta get focused on school. Ration your partying time accordingly. And while you’re at it, try to be a good friend and help Chris do the same. God knows he needs it even more than you do. Not that he seems to understand that. And for Christ’s sake, stop thinking about the girl next door. Brooke isn't gonna help with any of that. In fact, a chick like her will only make your life way more complicated than you can afford for it to be.”
I stared at my reflection for a minute and then gave myself a respectful nod.
“Thanks for the pep talk, man.”
“No worries, I got your back.”
I chuckled, thinking that if anyone had been watching my little exchange, they'd surely think I was insane. But I'm sure everyone does that sort of stuff when they're by themselves…right?
I chugged down the protein shake and then washed out the bottle really thoroughly. I learned the hard way that stuff gets real nasty if left overnight. Leave it over a few days and you've got a nuclear situation the scale of Chernobyl on your hands. Not even joking.
I shuffled to the bathroom, turning off all the lights except one dim lamp in the living room so Chris would at least be able to see when he stumbled around like a blind man after he returned home from his alcohol-induced evening. I then headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash up before bed.
I got it all done in record time, then headed off to my room. It was only ten o' clock – plenty early for me. I switched off the light and was asleep in seconds.
***
I had no idea what time Chris had made it in, but his door was shut and I could hear his snoring when I got up nice and early the next morning. I showered and had a healthy breakfast of granola, fruit, and a protein shake. I was feeling pretty great. I'd done my mandatory reading, got my prep-work done, and I was looking forward to the first day of classes. The sun was even shining when I opened the door to head out. It seemed like a pretty perfect day: blue skies, warm but not uncomfortably hot, and crowds of fresh-faced, eager students milling around outside the apartments.
After locking the place up and heading to the parking lot, I put on my helmet, climbed on my bike, and fired her up. I loved that sound! It was going to be a great day. After my bike was suitably warmed up, I clicked her into gear and tore off down the road. I could have easily walked, but any excuse I got to ride my mean machine, I took it. Not to mention, it definitely made more of an impression arriving on campus riding a bright red, howling motorcycle than it did walking.
I pulled into the parking lot and dismounted after parking my bike in the spot I had dubbed my “usual spot” the previous semester. I locked my helmet to the tank and headed to the science building. My first lecture of the day was chemistry. I won't lie, I was feeling pretty stoked about it until I realized the west wing of the building was more than a little empty. There should have been a steady stream of students walking in, hurrying to the lecture, which was set to begin in five minutes. Instead, it seemed I was the only person there.
I was trying to find my class schedule in my backpack when it hit me and panic made the blood in my veins run ice-cold. I lifted smacked myself in the forehead, cursing at myself for my stupidity. I had been going on last semester's schedule and thinking my chemistry class was in the west wing when it was, instead, in the east wing!
I was going to be about fifteen minutes late for my first class.
Perfect. Just when I was trying to turn things around, here I was about to stroll into class fifteen minutes late and make a terrible first impression. I really couldn't think of a shittier way to start off the new semester. Out of instinct, I turned and started back toward the east wing. After a few steps, I stopped in my tracks. My mind raced as I tried to decide if I should just turn around and leave, pretend I'd been sick. That would look slightly better than arriving late, right?
But if I did that, I'd miss out on a wealth of really important stuff. It was crucial to be at the first class if I wanted to get a good grip on what the class would be like for the rest of the semester.
No. As awful as it would be, I knew I needed to suck it up and walk in fifteen minutes late. I just had to hope I could talk to the professor after class and explain my mistake. Maybe she’d be reasonable about it. No matter the outcome, there was only one thing I could do at the moment.
I took off at a fast jog and ran across down hallway after hallway until I reached the east wing. After I bolted up the stairs, I rounded the first corner and stopped in front of the door I should have entered fifteen minutes before. As I expected, it was closed and looking more than a little intimidating. With a lump in my throat, I walked
to it and pushed it open slowly, fully expecting the class to fall silent, followed by me getting embarrassingly reprimanded for being late by the professor in front of everyone.
I breathed a quietly audible sigh of relief. She was writing on the board and almost every student was scribbling notes in notebooks or on iPads and tablets. I saw an available seat a few paces away from me, near the door in the back row. Without even scanning for any other seats, I dashed over and plonked my ass down, just as the professor turned around from the board to continue with her lecture.
Breathing hard from the run across campus, I leaned back in the chair, silently thanking every deity I could think of that I hadn't been busted for walking in late. The class was huge, so the professor thankfully didn't even notice there was now an extra body in the room.
I slid my backpack to the floor, opened it, and got my tablet out so I could start taking notes, too. That’s when I looked at the person sitting in front of me and I almost fell off my chair.
Brooke.
My heart started racing and I fumbled with my tablet, which dropped to the floor and clattered noisily. That got everyone's attention, you know…the attention I’d been trying to avoid. Everyone turned their heads to investigate the sound — including Brooke, who looked right into my eyes as she turned around.
I have no idea what emotions ran through her mind when our eyes locked, but I imagined it was a cocktail similar to that which ran through my own head: surprise, shock, confusion, and definitely attraction.
I was even more surprised to see her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of red to match what it felt my own face was doing. That’s right, I blushed. Something I almost never do. Brooke hurriedly averted her eyes from mine and turned around without saying or doing anything else.
She didn't look at me again for the rest of the class and I tried to keep my mind off of her while I took notes and did my best to pay attention — which was almost impossible with her lush, flowing hair and the delicate curve of her exposed shoulders mere inches from me. But, as if that wasn’t enough, the real kicker came at the end of the lesson.