by Claire Adams
“Hey, Emerson,” Ciara chimed from behind him.
“Hey, guys,” I replied. “What's going on?”
“Not much, broski,” said Chris. “Other than we just scored ourselves a bottle of tequila. Wanna have some fun?”
I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. “Nah. It's a Tuesday night, and I need to study for a test I have tomorrow. No drinking for me.” I shot him a serious glare. “I'm pretty sure you've got a test tomorrow, too.”
“Aw, come on, Emerson,” Ciara urged, “don't be such a bore. Jeez. It's just a little tequila.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just a little tequila? Seriously? Are you guys gonna drink it with an eyedropper, one drop at a time? I'm not as stupid as I look. I know where just a little tequila leads and I told you, I don't want to drink.”
“Well, too bad, E, because we do. And I wanna jam some tunes on my decks.”
“Dude, please! I just told you I've got a test tomorrow. Can't you guys just go to a bar or something? Or at least stay in your room and keep it down? I seriously can't get anything done if you guys are in here drinking and DJing.”
“When did you become such an old-timer, Emerson?” Ciara asked with distaste smeared across her face.
“You know what? Whatever,” I said, annoyance coloring my voice. “I'll just go to the damn campus library and study. You two have a good time.”
“Come on, brah, just put the stupid books away and have a few shots with us. I even bought limes and salt,” Chris encouraged.
“I told you, I have to study tonight, man. And if I can't do that here, I'll just have to do it elsewhere, right?”
“Shit, bro. Ciara’s right; you really are turning into an old man.”
“Well, at least I’m not gonna fail this semester, Chris,” I countered, frustrated. “Can you say the same… bro?” I grabbed my books and stuffed them into a backpack. Moments later, I stormed past Chris and Ciara, slamming the door behind me.
It was the fifth night in a row he was getting smashed and I couldn't take it anymore. I'd been doing my best to work hard and focus on my studies—and avoid drinking—but Chris just didn't seem to care at all. He had been nothing but inconsiderate and self-absorbed. All he cared about was partying and bringing girls over. And, the look on his face was proof that he knew that he was going to fail the semester. He just didn't give a damn.
I shook my head as I made my way down the stairwell. I had to do something about my situation. Chris obviously wasn't going to change his ways. Which meant it was up to me to figure out a solution to my growing problem. I just didn’t know what that should be, but something had to give.
The question was... was it time to move out?
It was a heavy thought. Chris and I had been best friends since I could remember. We just seemed to be growing further and further apart. For the sake of my sanity—and my grades—moving out might be my best option.
As I climbed onto my bike and strapped on my helmet, I hoped I could find a solution that would allow me to keep my grades up and salvage my friendship with Chris, but I was beginning to have serious doubts about that.
With these thoughts swirling around my head, I started the bike up and sped off toward the library.
***
I woke up early the next morning and headed out for a jog, hoping to get five miles in before it got too hot and get back in time to get ready for my ten o'clock class. While I was running, I thought about what Chris and Ciara had said, calling me an old man. It made me realize that I had actually done quite a bit of growing up in the past few months. But being stuck in old patterns, and being stuck with people who didn't share my same vision for moving forward, was holding me back.
Chris, Melissa, and the party crew.
It wasn't that I disliked them. Chris was still one of my best buds. It's just that our goals had diverged and we were heading down different paths in life. I'd gotten over my partying phase, but Chris was still very firmly stuck in his. I didn’t intend to quit partying altogether. I mean, I still wanted to go out and have fun. Just not every night of the week. And only when I had done everything I needed to do for school.
Not to mention, I didn't feel like there was much point in going out to clubs anymore. I couldn’t explain exactly why, but I was no longer interested in chasing girls. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that there was only one girl on my mind these days. And with a girl like her on my mind, there wasn't room for any other girls. Especially not airheads like Melissa.
Lost in my thoughts, I rounded my last corner and arrived back in front of the apartment building. When I paused for a breather before going up to take a shower, I noticed the elderly superintendent Jenkins was having a cigarette. I walked over to say hi.
“Hey, Jenkins.”
“Emerson. Good to see ya,” he growled in his gravelly smoker's voice.
“How's life?” I asked.
“Eh, I can't complain, I guess, although my back's been givin' me some issues. You?”
“All's good with me. Sorry to hear about your back, though.”
He shrugged. “These things happen when you're old. Nothin' you can do 'bout it but accept it.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I chuckled.
“I'm too ancient t' be running around like a young buck like you. These bones a' mine, they're old an' creaky!”
I laughed.
Jenkins smiled, but then his face took on a serious expression. “Hey, you know those two new dames who moved in next to you?”
“Brooke and Leslie, yeah?”
“They was walkin' out earlier, an' I overheard 'em bitchin' about the noise comin' from your place. One of 'em was real keen on calling the cops.”
“Really? Which one?”
“My eyes ain't too good, and neither are my ears. I couldn't tell which one was talkin' 'bout it. But it don't matter. You two better watch y’selves. I know you two like your beer, an' I also know you two are underage. You wouldn't want them cops comin' in your place. That'll get ya in all sorts a' trouble.”
“Alright, Jenkins,” I said. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“No problem, kiddo. Just take it easy with the noise now, y'hear?”
“Yeah, I got ya. Thanks. I gotta go. Hope your back feels better.”
“Thanks. See ya later, kid.”
I waved and jogged up the stairs into the building. What Jenkins had said was cause for concern. I thought back to the time in chemistry class I overheard that jerk, Garrett, telling Brooke she should call the cops on me and Chris. Now I had to wonder if she was seriously considering taking that advice or if it was Leslie who wanted to make the call.
Either way, it was bad news for us. I had to convince Chris to stop partying in the apartment. Either that or I had to move out as soon as I could. I couldn’t have that kind of heat coming down on me.
I opened the front door and went straight to Chris's room and knocked.
“Yo, who's there?” a muffled voice asked from behind the door.
“It's me.”
“Oh, hold on E-dawg.” The sounds of mattress springs echoed from behind the door before Chris spoke again. “Okay, man, come on in.”
I opened the door and stuck just my head in. Chris and Ciara were lying in bed, both only covered by Chris' comforter. Barely. It was pretty obvious what I’d interrupted. Still, I cut straight to the point. “Dude, you've got to cut the partying down.”
“Well, good morning to you, too, bro,” he replied sarcastically. “So nice to see you. How was your—”
“Look, I just spoke to Jenkins downstairs. He said he overheard one of our neighbors saying if there's any more noise out of our place—and I mean any at all—they're gonna call the cops.”
“So? Screw 'em. Let 'em call the cops.”
“Chris, are you insane?! We've been over this before, man! If the cops come in here and find all the alcohol, we're dead! Have you forgotten who the dean of the college is?”
“You worry way t
oo much, man. Nobody is gonna call the cops. Jeez, just chill the hell out.”
I shook my head; it seemed nothing I said to him would make a difference. It was looking like I might have to consider moving out, after all. “Look, just think about what I just told you, alright? I gotta go shower and get to class.”
“Sure,” he said coldly. “Later.”
I walked out and closed the door, burning frustration bubbling deep inside me.
***
I walked into chemistry class ten minutes early and smiled as I saw Brooke already sitting there. Thankfully, Garrett hadn't arrived yet, so she was sitting alone. I took my usual seat behind her and tapped her playfully on the shoulder.
When she turned around and saw it was me, she smiled warmly. “Hey, Emerson,” she said with genuine warmth in her voice.
“Hey, Brooke. How's it going?”
“Pretty darn good, actually,” she replied with a smile.
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“Well, I managed to raise over a hundred dollars just by selling those plants! Together, the rest of the team and I managed to raise twelve hundred dollars for the children's home.”
“Wow!” I exclaimed, impressed. “That's fantastic!”
“How's your little cactus doing?” she asked, a playful twinkle sparkling in her eye.
“Oh, he's good,” I replied with a chuckle. “Surviving, despite my black thumb!”
“Good to hear. Just don’t overwater it. It can be just as bad as not giving it enough water.”
“Don’t drown the cactus. I'll keep that in mind.”
I thought about bringing up the noise complaint but didn’t want to make the conversation awkward, so I avoided the issue. Luckily, it seemed Brooke was in a talkative mood so additional topics weren’t needed.
“I gotta tell you, Emerson,” she said, “I really enjoyed that Indian place, Patak's. So much, in fact, that I had dinner there again with my parents on Sunday night.”
“Oh, did you now?” I said with a wry smile. “Looks like I got someone hooked on Indian food!”
She laughed and blushed slightly. Damn, she was cute when that shyness came over her. “Yeah, I think I might actually be hooked now,” she replied with a hint of something laced in her words. “What have you done, Emerson?”
If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was flirting with me. That maybe there was a hidden meaning in what she’d just said. I shrugged. “Oh no. Don't blame me, Brooke!”
“I have to blame someone, don't I?” She raised her eyebrows slightly and grinned.
“I suppose you do.”
“Anyway, when I was there with my parents, Mr. Patak recognized me and came over to say hi.”
“Oh, really? He always says he never forgets a face.”
“Yeah, well, he wouldn't shut up about you.”
“Me?”
“Yep,” she replied, blushing again. “He told my parents how awesome a young man you are. Um, how awesome he thinks you are, that is,” she quickly added.
“Nice to know he thinks that about me,” I replied.
“Well, anyway, my mom said I should invite you to the barbecue we're having this weekend.”
I tried my best to keep a look of calm, cool and collected on my face as I replied. “Oh yeah? A barbecue with your parents?”
“It's my dad's fiftieth birthday. It's gonna be a pretty big occasion, so I wanted invite a few of my friends. And after everything Mr. Patak told my parents about you, they insisted that I invite you. So… interested?”
I smiled. Hell yeah, I was interested. “Absolutely. Tell me where and when and I'll be there.”
“Great. Well, it's this Saturday at two in the afternoon. I'll text you the address.”
“Awesome. Saturday it is then.”
She looked like she was about to say something else when Garrett sat down beside her just as the professor walked in. She glanced back over her shoulder once more and flashed a smile that made me feel warm before she turned her attention back to the front of the class. My attention, however, was now on everything but class.
Chapter Nineteen
Brooke
Dad's birthday barbecue weather turned out to be pretty perfect. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and it wasn't too hot. A gentle breeze hummed along and kept everything just cool enough.
I still couldn’t believe I actually invited Emerson to the barbecue. I hadn’t planned to. When my parents initially suggested it, I made up excuses as to why he wouldn't be able to make it, having absolutely no intention of inviting him. They accepted that I'd be coming alone, which was exactly what I had in mind. But then, when Emerson and I started talking in chemistry class, the invitation just kinda popped out of my mouth, seemingly of its own accord. I’d even lied about the fact that I had invited some of my friends. That was not even the case. Naturally, Leslie was invited, but she was the extent of it, but she had something going on with her family, so she wasn’t going to make it. It was just going to be a bunch of my parents’ friends, a few family members, me, and Emerson.
The truth was, I didn't really mind at all. If I was being honest with myself, I had to admit I was even a little excited about it. Over the past few days, I'd hardly been able to get Emerson off my mind. We'd had a great chat during our practicals on Wednesday. In fact, we talked and laughed for at least half an hour before even starting the experiment, by which time another pair of lab partners had showed up, giving us dirty looks as they waited for us to rush through the experiment because we had gone way over our booked time with all the chatting.
Friday I was handing out flyers for one of our RAG projects advertising an outdoor film festival for movies made by the students at the university’s film school when Emerson left the group of friends he'd been throwing a football around with and offered to help--but not before he asked about the details. I told him all about how the films would be shown on an outdoor projector on one of the campus lawns where people could bring picnic baskets and deck chairs, and that all of the proceeds from the tickets were going to a charity that built schools in rural parts of Kenya. He took most of my flyers and jogged around campus handing them out to everyone he came across.
Strangely enough, his apartment had been pretty quiet over the past week. I didn’t know if Emerson had finally managed to convince Chris to keep his music down, if Chris had been away for a while, or if there had been another reason for the silence. But whatever the reason, Leslie and I had appreciated the peace. And there was the lack of other sounds coming through the wall. I still hadn't found out if it had been Chris or Emerson behind those particular noises, and I really didn't want to know. As long as they had stopped, I was happy.
Part of me felt relieved that the extracurricular commotion had stopped, especially if Emerson had been responsible. Because it meant that… Well, let's just say I hadn't seen Melissa or her friends around the apartment building, either. Maybe that meant Emerson felt…
I stopped my train of thought. The last thing I needed to do was start jumping to conclusions. I couldn't afford to get into anything right now, not that and maintain focus on my studies.
Then there were the remnants of Andrew.
Although, weirdly enough, that seemed to have lost most of its sting. Especially after what Emerson had done for me at Patak's when Ben walked over to the table. Even though the whole idea of moving on, finding a new guy, feeling happy, and doing well for myself had been an act concocted by Emerson in the face of Ben's smugness, it had actually helped. I had finally started to feel like I was moving on, or at least like I was ready to move on and start a new chapter of my life without the shadow of Andrew hovering over me.
So maybe, just maybe, I was ready. Ready to start something fresh, something that could breathe life back into my stitched-up heart. But if anything was going to happen, it had to happen on its own and it had to be taken slowly. There would be no sense in rushing anything. I was on the verge of feeling ready, but not quite pre
pared to jump. But I was getting there.
A knock on the front door jolted me out of my thoughts and brought me back to the present. I checked the kitchen clock. Emerson was right on time.
I'd planned to take the bus to my parents' house for the barbecue, but Emerson insisted on taking me on his bike—not that it had taken much arm twisting to get me to agree.
I checked in the mirror one last time to make sure my makeup and hair were in place and then I opened the door. Emerson was standing there with a big grin on his face.
“Hey, Brooke!”
“Hi, Emerson, you're right on time!”
“Always,” he said with a wink. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
“Great, let's go.”
We walked downstairs and headed out to his bike, which he hopped onto and started up. Now that I’d had some experience riding on the back, I felt a lot less nervous about being on the monster of a machine. In fact, I felt pretty excited.
I climbed up onto the back and wrapped my arms around Emerson. A hot thrill shot through my veins as my hands slid over his rock-hard, bulging abs before I locked my fingers together. It was night and day compared to Andrew's very average, slightly soft belly.
I almost instinctively ran my hands up a bit higher, wanting to feel his broad, solid chest, but I stopped myself.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled through his helmet.
“Yeah, I'm good,” I said.
“Great. Hang on!” He clicked the machine into gear and took off. I tightened my grip. He must have realized I was more comfortable on the motorcycle because he was driving a fair bit faster than he had the first time I rode with him. I couldn't deny it was still a little scary, but also thrilling… and a turn on. It was pretty hot seeing how smoothly and confidently he was able to control such a powerful machine.
We arrived at the barbecue half an hour later. I dismounted with a huge grin plastered across my face. Emerson chuckled.
“It looks like someone isn’t so afraid of motorcycles now, huh? You look like a kid who's just gotten off a rollercoaster.”
I blushed and almost giggled, but tried not to come off as too much of a schoolgirl about it. “It was fun,” I said, keeping it simple and smiling. “I felt a lot less nervous this time around. Oh, and just so you know, my dad will probably want to see your motorcycle. He was very much into them when he was younger. I think he even used to race when he was our age.”