by Claire Adams
“HUH?”
That was it. I pushed past Chris and walked into their place, squeezing past Emerson, as well. The girls all stopped their chatting and giggling and stared at me in surprise as I pushed my way past them, too. I headed straight for their sound system—a gigantic, expensive set of equipment—and began searching for the volume button. The music was absolutely deafening inside the apartment. It was almost like being inside an actual nightclub.
“HEY, THIS CHICK IS A DJ!” shouted Chris from the door. “SHE'S GONNA SPIN SOME TRACKS! HIT IT, GIRL! THAT'S MY NEW DJ SETUP! I'M LEARNING TO DJ, YO! SHOW US WHAT YOU GOT!”
I found the volume knob and quickly turned it down, dropping the sound level by half.
“I am not a DJ,” I stated firmly, suddenly feeling my cheeks starting to glow with embarrassment as everyone stopped what they were doing and stared disapprovingly at me. “I just wanted to ask you guys to turn the sound down a bit. The bass is going right through to our apartment next door, and it's so crazy that it's actually making everything literally shake inside our place. Please, guys, please just be a little more considerate, okay? Both of us next door have really long days tomorrow and we need to sleep. I'm not saying you can't party, but please, please just keep it down, alright?”
Chris looked like he was about to say something, but Emerson jumped in before he could. “I'm sorry, Brooke,” he said, looking genuinely ashamed. “We've, uh, we've had a few drinks and I guess we didn't realize how loud the music was. We'll keep it down.”
The girls were all staring at me with naked hatred in their eyes. I was now the bitchy, no-fun neighbor, for sure. Not that I cared, but I couldn't take their stares for a moment longer. I hurried out of the apartment without another word.
“Wait, Brooke!” Emerson called out after me, but I was done. I stormed back into my apartment and slammed the door shut behind me.
Inside, Leslie was waiting not so patiently. “How did it go?”
“Well, the music's quieter now, right?”
She glared at me with that knowing expression of her. She knew how upset I was. “Oh no, were they jerks about it?” she asked.
“No, well, Chris kinda was. Emerson wasn’t. But those girls they had in there—you know, the same group of airheads who were at their party before. Jeez, Les, they looked at me like I was the devil incarnate. They gave me these cold-hearted, bitchy stares like I was the one in the wrong.”
Leslie gave me a hug. “Aw, don't let the idiots get to you. They were being complete assholes. It's a good thing I didn't go over there because you can bet a can of whoop-ass would've been opened, especially if any of those dumb bitches had dared give me the hairy eyeball. I've got half a mind to go over there right now anyway and hand out a few ass-whoopins.”
“No, Les, let it go. I've taken care of it. The music is down, and I don’t think they’ll turn it up again. We don't need any more conflict tonight. Let's just go to bed.”
“Alright, if you insist.”
“I do.”
We both went to our rooms. I got ready and slipped into my bed, still feeling a little awful from the confrontation. I turned the lights off and fell asleep to the muffled thumping of dance music faintly coming through the wall next to me.
When I walked into chemistry class, the chair I had planned on making my usual seat was taken. The one next to it was open, however, so I walked into the lecture hall and sat down.
I didn’t recall seeing the guy sitting in my seat in this class on Monday, I had scoped everyone out since I was one of the first ones to arrive the first day of class. I’d have remembered him. He was really good-looking. Not as striking as Emerson, but like my neighbor, this guy looked like he worked out regularly. He had short-cropped, dark blond hair, a bit of rough stubble on his face, and the black-rimmed glasses he wore gave him an intellectual air, which I had to admit I found quite alluring.
He glanced across at me as I took my seat and smiled. “Hi,” he said. “Sorry, did I take your seat?”
“Um, yeah, actually you did. But it's okay, this seat’s fine.”
“Sorry about that. I just transferred into this class and didn't know if people had regular seats or what. I'll move, it's fine.”
“No, no, you can stay. Nobody sits in this chair, so I'll just stay here.”
“I'm Garrett, by the way,” he said with a smile, extending his hand to me.
I shook it, noticing immediately how strong and firm his grip was. “I'm Brooke. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, likewise. So, tell me, Brooke, how are you enjoying this class so far?”
“Well, we’ve only had one class, but the professor is awesome. She's totally got a knack for explaining difficult concepts in a way that makes them easy to grasp. But I don’t know if you can go by me. Since I was a kid, I've always been fascinated with chemistry, so I might have an edge in understanding it.”
“Nice. When I was little, I used to mix all sorts of things together in jars, pretending they were beakers on Bunsen burners. My dad was pretty stoked about it because he's a physicist, but Mom wasn't too pleased. Probably because she always had to clean up the mess afterward.”
“Yeah, I'm sure she wasn't too happy about that.” I chuckled, then let out a yawn. It was early and I hadn't gotten enough sleep. Emerson and Chris had kept their party going until the early hours of the morning, and the music, although turned down, had still come through my wall and woke me up a few times.
“Late night last night?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah, but it wasn't by choice. My neighbors are two frat-boy types. One of them apparently just got a new sound system and they were playing loud music until the early hours of the morning. I couldn't get any sleep.”
“Oh man, they sound like real winners. Why didn't you call the cops on 'em?”
“Well, uh, that sounds a bit extreme. And, I'm sure the cops have more important things to attend to.”
“In this town? Nothing happens here, Brooke. Next time, call the cops. I promise it works. I lived next to this guy who used to get drunk and play drums until after midnight.”
“Drums? Oh man, that must have been terrible.”
“It was, trust me. He wasn't even a good drummer!”
I laughed. “Wow, so it was super bad, huh?”
“Yeah. One night and this was after he ignored me politely asking him to keep it down a few times, I’d had enough and called the cops. Like I said, they've got nothing to do in this town, really, so I think they were kinda excited to actually have something to deal with. They showed up five minutes after I called. I don’t know what they said to this guy, but he never played drums at night again. Not even once.”
“Really?”
“Really. So, I'm telling you, if your jerk neighbors start making a racket late at night again, don't even talk to 'em. Go straight for the phone. Get the cops around, and they'll shut those guys up in about two seconds.”
“Yeah, maybe I should.”
“Hey, Brooke, um, we need to schedule a time to do this week's practicals.” The familiar voice interrupted the conversation.
Emerson.
I froze. I could practically feel my face turn crimson. I wondered if he’d been sitting behind me the whole time. I had to assume he’d overheard the entire conversation. I prayed for the earth to open and swallow me up. Garrett, however, jumped right into the conversation.
“Oh, are you two lab partners?” he said, turning around to face Emerson.
“Yeah, we are.”
“Nice to meet you, man, I'm Garrett.” Garrett extended a friendly hand to Emerson.
I sat and watched in mortified silence as Emerson took Garrett's hand and shook it. I wondered if he was going to tell him that he was the “jerk neighbor.”
He didn't. “Hey, man. I'm Emerson. You new here?”
“Yeah, just transferred.”
At that moment, the professor walked in.
“I'll, um, I'll talk to you after class about a time to
do lab work,” I mumbled to Emerson. My cheeks still felt like they were on fire, and there was no way I could bring myself to make eye contact with him. I turned and quickly opened my book, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush in my cheeks.
After class, Garrett said he had another class to get to, but that he hoped he would see me again soon. He wrote his Facebook contact info in my notebook and invited me to add him.
As I walked out of the lecture hall, Emerson was waiting for me. If he was upset about what he'd overheard me saying earlier, he didn't show it. Instead, he smiled coolly and walked up to me. “Hey, Brooke. Sorry, again, about the noise last night. Me and Chris, we just had a bit too much to drink, you know? He just got a new sound system and was really eager to see how loud it would go. He's learning to be a DJ and stuff, so, yeah… Anyway, now that we know just how loud it is, we won't turn it up like that again, I promise.”
“Um, okay, thanks. Sorry I complained about it.”
“No, no, don't apologize. We were wrong for turning it up so loud that it bothered you guys. You've got a right to peace and quiet in your own place. Totally understandable.”
“Thanks.”
“Anyway, about this lab we have to do, when's good?” he asked.
“Um, are you free tomorrow afternoon at three? I'm pretty sure the lab is available then.”
“Yeah, that works for me.”
“Great, I'll go book the lab right now.”
“Okay. I'll see you there at three tomorrow,” he said with a smile, and with that, he turned and walked off.
“Yeah. See you then.”
Chapter 10
Emerson
“Dude, that was such a bangin' party last night! Damn, bro, I'm surprised you managed to get up in time for class today! ‘Course, it would have been even better if little Miss Noise Patrol from next door hadn't come over and bitched about it.” Chris chuckled and shook his head. “Man, she's got a stick up her ass. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's smokin' hot and I'd bang her without a second thought, but, dude… such a whiner.”
I shrugged. “It was kinda loud, dude.”
“So? It was awesome music! I'm nailing my new sets, man! Those DJ classes are totally paying off. Hell, those bitches next door should’ve come over and paid me for the privilege of hearing the dope beats I was droppin’.”
“Well, that's your opinion, but I overheard her talking to some guy in class about it today, and she wasn't happy. She might call the cops if you do it again.”
“What?! Dude, what a bitch!”
“She needs to study, man. That doesn’t make her a bitch. And as awesome as your beats are, they're not exactly conducive to studying, ya know.”
“'Conducive to studying,’ huh Emerson? Bro, you sound like a nerd.”
“Chris, college isn't a joke for me. I really want to get through this year with solid grades. I need to make up for last year's disappointments in that area.”
“Well, it's not a damn joke for me, either, bro!”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure? Did you even go to a single class yesterday?”
Chris folded his arms defensively across his chest. “I had a lot of important stuff to do!”
“More important than actually passing your classes, huh?”
“Whatever, man.” He turned to walk to his room. “I'll talk to you later, nerd,” he said and slammed the door shut behind him.
I actually felt bad, even though I knew I was right. Chris needed to slow down with the constant partying and start taking his studies a little more seriously. He had come pretty close to flunking last semester and was pretty much guaranteed to flunk this one if he kept on like he was. Considering I hadn't done too well last semester, either, we both needed to buckle down. It didn’t help that I was a little concerned regarding what I'd overheard Brooke and the new guy—who I had to admit I felt an immediate dislike for—talking about. If she called the cops, we'd be in a world of trouble. Chris and I each had a couple of months to go before turning twenty-one and underage possession of alcohol wasn’t something I wanted to face the dean over, for more than one reason.
My blood heated a little as I thought about that new guy and how quick he was to suggest Brooke call the cops. But what bothered me more was how open she was to his suggestion. She’d just met the guy and he seemed to be able to influence her. There was something in my gut that instinctively didn’t trust him. And, the way he eyed Brooke when she wasn’t looking only made me distrust him more. I’d seen guys like him before. He was hiding something.
Also, I had to admit I was a little jealous about how easily he had gotten Brooke to open up in conversation. While it seemed that she was content to answer my questions with short, awkward, one-word sentences, she'd seemed pretty at ease when chatting with him.
But what could I do about that? Not much. I could try to be a decent neighbor and a good lab partner. As much as I wanted to get to know Brooke better, it seemed that she wasn't interested in getting to know me and I guess I just had to accept that. Still, I was eager to see how our first lab session together would go. I decided I'd better brush up on my reading so I wouldn't look like a total fool when it came time to get down to business in the lab.
With that thought in my mind, I went to my room, closed the door, and hit the books.
“You're early,” Brooke said as I walked into the lab the next afternoon.
“I am. So are you,” I replied with a smile.
She responded with a strange half-smile. I couldn't tell if it was forced or if she was merely feeling a little shy. I went with the latter option. It was the option I was hoping for, at least.
“You've done all the reading, right?” she asked, leaning across the counter in a white lab coat.
I tried not to think about it, but she looked pretty sexy in that thing, whereas I was fairly certain I looked like a complete dork in mine. “I have,” I assured her.
“Brought all your notes? And, a pen and a notebook, of course? We've each got to record all of the details of the experiment.”
“Yep! I was a boy scout once upon a time, and you know what they say about boy scouts!”
“That you're all a bunch of nerds?” she replied with a wink and a grin.
I laughed, feeling pleasantly surprised that the Ice Queen had something of a sense of humor, after all. “Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “The other thing they say.”
“Always prepared,” she replied. “And you are?”
“Totally prepared. I've got everything you need… I mean, I need,” I stammered, trying to recover from my Freudian slip. Brooke arched an eyebrow. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead.
“Well, okay then. Let's get started, shall we?”
She headed to the cabinet to get the beakers together and started setting everything up. Straight down to business. I felt a little disappointed, having hoped to have been able to at least get a little more conversation in. On the other hand, I did want to demonstrate that I was taking this class as seriously as she was. “Should I measure out the chemicals while you're doing that?” I asked.
“Please do,” she replied, without looking up from what she was doing.
I went about sorting the chemicals, carefully measuring the exact quantities we needed for our experiment.
“Alright, I'm all set here,” she said. “How about you? Are you good?”
I measured out the last of the potassium. “Yep. We're good on this side.”
“Great. Write that down, then we'll get it going.”
We both scribbled down the details needed, and we then put everything together in the main beaker and turned on the Bunsen burner.
“Are you writing the chemical equations under each step or have you created a separate table for them?” I asked.
“Separate table. It looks neater that way, but I think the prof is fine with either.”
We watched as the concoction started to bubble.
“Looks like the elements are starting to separate,”
I remarked.
Her face remained cool and expressionless. Strictly business seemed to be her attitude about this whole thing. “Yeah. It should only take another two minutes before the process is complete,” she responded.
“You sure?”
“I know it will.”
“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” I replied with a grin.
For the first time since I'd entered the lab, she looked up and locked her eyes with mine. “What did you say?”
“Oh, nothing,” I replied, feeling deflated, assuming my joke passed right over her head. “It was just a Game of Thrones reference. Just, you know, trying to get a bit of humor in here.”
She chuckled, and I could see from the way her eyes lit up that her laughter was genuine. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she said, repeating my words with a smile. “He's my favorite character, you know. Him and Arya.”
I smiled, realizing I may have just struck gold. “My favorite was Eddard—that is until he lost his head at the end of season one.”
“Oh, my God, spoiler alerts please!” she exclaimed with mock horror.
“Come on,” I chuckled, “if you know the line, you've already seen way past season one!”
“Alright, alright,” she said. “I'm just messing with you.”
I tried to keep the conversation going. It felt good to finally connect on something with this girl. “So, as I was saying before I so selfishly gave away that massive spoiler, Eddard Stark was my favorite character, but now I'd have to say it's Tyrion.”
“A Lannister always pays his debts,” she commented. “I have to say I'm pretty fond of Daenerys, too. She's come a long way since being sold as a bride to a Dothraki warlord in season one. I feel like she's really gonna start causing some proper chaos with those dragons of hers in the new season.”
“Oh man, I literally cannot wait! She's gonna set shit on fire!”
We had gotten so into our conversation that we hadn't noticed the chemical reaction in the beaker had started to intensify and was bubbling over the edges.