by Claire Adams
But there she was, chatting and flirting away with this Garrett guy. What the hell did he have that I didn't? Damn. Shake it off, Emerson. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been like this over a girl. I guess I'd forgotten what it was like to pursue someone who didn't really want much to do with me. Funny thing was, I hadn’t even realized I wanted to pursue Brooke.
I grabbed my water bottle, took a swig, and tried my best to focus on the professor’s lecture and forget about the maddening thoughts bouncing around inside my head.
It didn't work. I kept glancing at Brooke and Garrett. I needed a better distraction tactic, so I started taking in-depth notes. That worked and, as an added bonus, I’d gotten a pretty good grasp on the material from the lecture.
“Alright, students, that will be all today,” the professor announced. “Oh, and one more thing: if you want to follow up on what you've learned today with a practical, I'll block off the lab on Friday. It's totally optional, so you don't have to do this one, but if you're interested, speak to your lab partner and sign up to book a time slot. Remember to do your reading, please.”
The professor dismissed class and everyone started getting up, chatting and packing their book bags.
Garrett immediately started talking to Brooke, but I used the opportunity to butt into their conversation. I couldn't resist shooting Garrett a bit of a smug grin as I did.
“Hey, lab partner,” I said, tapping Brooke on her shoulder.
“Oh, hey, Emerson,” she replied. “What's up?”
“I'd really like to take a stab at the optional practical the professor just talked about. Do you have time on Friday to do that?”
“Whew, Friday's pretty busy for me, but I think after four-thirty could work.”
Shit. Four-thirty on Fridays was my weekly soccer game. I quickly decided that didn't matter. I'd skip soccer this week. I didn't want to miss out on an opportunity to spend time with Brooke.
“Four-thirty is perfect,” I said, smiling through the lie. “I'll go pencil our names in for that slot on the sign-up sheet.”
“Awesome,” she replied. “I appreciate that. It's great to have a lab partner who's as enthusiastic about chemistry as I am.”
“Absolutely!” I said, probably a little too enthusiastically. “So, see you on Friday afternoon then!”
With that, I turned on my heels and left with a triumphant grin.
***
“Hey, just on time,” I said to Brooke as we converged on the lab from opposite directions.
“Glad to see you're punctual,” she remarked. “Come on, let's get everything set up. I don't wanna spend too long in here. Like I said, Friday is a long day for me with classes. I just left my last one and I'm feeling pretty beat.”
Without further ado, we stepped into the lab. As with the previous experiment, Brooke set up the equipment while I measured out the chemicals. We didn't talk much while this was going on, mainly because I didn't know what to say or how to start any kind of conversation with her. But I had no problem watching her as she went about her work. There was just something about her that drew me in. It wasn’t merely that she looked pretty hot in a lab coat; she was just beautiful. I found myself noticing that even more as she bustled around the lab.
“Um…Earth to Emerson.” Her voice pulled me out of my daze and I realized she was staring at me with an air of amusement playing in her expression.
“Sorry.”
“Are the chemicals all measured out and ready to go?” She was clearly trying to suppress a smile. I couldn’t help wondering how long I’d been staring at her before she snapped me out of it.
“Oh, uh, yeah. They are.”
“Cool. Let's get this show on the road then.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We began the experiment, watching as the concoction boiled and bubbled, taking detailed notes.
I was trying hard to focus when my phone suddenly rang. Without checking to see who was calling, I picked it up and answered. I’d assumed it would be one of my soccer buddies calling to find out where I was even though I’d sent out a message to everyone earlier explaining that I wouldn’t be able to make the game that day.
It wasn't a soccer buddy.
It was Melissa.
“Hey, Emerson,” she said.
“Oh, hey, Melissa,” I replied, wanting to kick myself as soon as her name fell from my lips because I saw Brooke look up at me with raised eyebrows.
“What are you up to tonight?” Melissa asked.
“Um, I've… Look, I'll call you back later, okay? I'm in the middle of a really important chemistry lab and I need to pay close attention. Sorry. Bye.”
I ended the call before she could say anything and then looked up to find Brooke staring at me.
“Sorry,” I apologized. I probably should have turned my phone off for the experiment.
“Nah, it's okay,” she replied. “You cut it off pretty quickly. So it wasn’t a big deal.”
She went back to making notes, but then paused and glanced up, looking me directly in the eye.
“Is that Melissa girl your girlfriend?” she asked.
She blushed immediately, and I sensed that she regretted asking the question.
“No, no, nothing like that,” I answered, probably a little too hastily. “Melissa is just a friend. No, uh, more of an acquaintance. She's better friends with Chris than she is with me.”
The expression on Brooke’s face said she didn't believe anything I was saying and that hurt a little since I was telling the truth. Well, with the exception of the part about Melissa being better friends with Chris than with me. But I considered that a minor detail. The point was as much as Melissa wanted to be my girlfriend, I didn't want that. Not at all. She had been relentless in her pursuit of me for months, but as attractive as she was, there was simply nothing more to her than her. I'd dated plenty of girls like her before, and they hadn't inspired much in me beyond lust, which always fades quickly.
I decided to try deflecting her attention away from my non-existent love life.
“What about you and that dude, Garrett?” I asked. “You seem to be getting along really well with him.”
“Are you asking if he and I are dating?”
Her words almost felt like an attack, and I found myself stammering in an attempt to reply.
“Um, well, not really. Actually, yeah, I guess that is what I'm asking.”
A hint of a smile turned up one corner of her mouth but then disappeared. “No, we're not. We're just friends. I don't have a boyfriend and, to tell you the truth, I don't want one right now. My last relationship ended…badly. I'm not sure if I'm ready to trust anyone with my heart again. Besides, I've decided to focus on school this year. You know, get the best grades I can. A boyfriend can be distracting and I don't need added distractions in my life right now.”
Once again, she surprised me by being so open and talkative about the topic. I did feel a little sting that she seemed so adamant and determined to not have a boyfriend. It was almost like she was saying things to specifically put me off.
“I can understand that,” I admitted. “Like I told you before, I'm trying to focus on school this year, too. And you’re right, distractions don’t help. God knows I have enough of those just being roommates with Chris,” I joked. “I can relate because I don't want any more complications in my life than absolutely necessary. So, I guess avoiding relationships, and all the messy stuff that comes with them, might be the smartest thing to do.”
“Yeah. I'd say it's a wise move. Hey, check it out,” she directed my attention to the beaker. “The reaction is almost over. You got all your notes?”
“Um, almost,” I said as I scribbled furiously in my notebook.
“Aaand it's done,” she said as she turned off the Bunsen burner.
“Okay, great,” I said. “That was an interesting experiment.”
“Yes, it was. I'll get this stuff cleaned up. You pack the chemicals away, and then we can b
e on our way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I saluted and she rolled her eyes at me with a brief smile.
We cleaned up in silence. I could sense she was trying to shut me out again, trying to push me away. But I knew there was also a part of her calling out to me at the same time, a part that wanted to get closer, a part that mirrored what I was feeling for her. There were undeniable sparks between us, I could feel it in the way she looked at me sometimes — especially when she thought I wasn't looking. I could sense it the way she would sometimes open up in conversation but then, very consciously and forcefully, try to shut herself down and put those walls up again.
I didn't want to keep playing this game with her. I wanted to find out more. I wanted to chip away at those walls.
“Alright,” she said, drying off her hands on a towel, “everything is all cleaned up. Have you put all the chemicals back in their places?”
“Yep. All where they should be.”
“Great. I guess we can be on our way then. I’ll see ya later.”
“Hold up,” I said suddenly, not entirely sure what I was going to say to get her to talk to me.
“Yeah?”
Food. Everyone had to eat. “I'm gonna go eat at a killer Indian place on the other side of town. I know the owner's son, he went to high school with me. It's the best Indian joint in town. You wanna come with? My treat.”
I was totally expecting her to turn me down, to make up an excuse and leave as fast as possible as she always did. So, when she replied, I almost fell off my lab stool.
“Actually, that sounds great,” she said. “Let's go.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Brooke
I stared at the motorcycle with a strange cocktail of fear, excitement, and anxiety. “I've never actually been on a motorcycle before,” I confessed somewhat sheepishly.
He smiled. “No need to worry. I promise I'll take it easy.”
“You'd better. Adrenaline rushes are not my friend.”
He laughed, but there was a little sympathy in his eyes.
“Thrill seeking isn't for everyone,” he said. “And, there's nothing wrong with that. I know extreme sports and crazy activities are seen as the cool thing to do these days, but everyone should just do what they enjoy, rather than being into something for the sake of putting out some fake image that they think others will like. Just be yourself. If people don’t like you…their loss.”
I nodded in response. It was a surprisingly insightful opinion that I definitely hadn’t expected from Emerson. Truth was, I felt a little ashamed of myself for being surprised. It was possible I'd been a little too hasty to judge him based on superficial factors. “That's a refreshing perspective,” I added.
There was a hint of shyness in the way he smiled back at me. It felt as though I was seeing a side of him that he hardly ever revealed to anyone. Then again, I have been known to be wrong.
“You ready to get going?” he asked, looking as if he suddenly felt a little embarrassed and just wanted to change the subject.
I took a deep breath and gave the sleek bike a long glance. “As ready as I’m going to get.”
He handed me the spare helmet that had been strapped down to the back, which I immediately put on and secured tightly. Wearing it had a claustrophobic quality until I opened the visor and let some air in. Emerson climbed onto the motorcycle and started it up. Being right next to it, the sound was more intense than hearing it from the sidewalk at the apartments. And when he revved it, it roared. While this made me feel a bit more nervous, it also excited me. I wasn’t entirely sure if I found the rumble of the bike sexy or the man straddling it.
“Get on,” he prompted.
I climbed gingerly onto the back. The passenger seat was higher than the driver's seat. Emerson was hunched over the body of the motorcycle while I felt as if I was perched on the highest point, floating around in the wind.
“Uh, where should I hold on?” I asked, my voice muffled inside the helmet.
“Just lean forward, wrap your arms around my waist,” he said.
This was going to be interesting. “Alright.”
I slanted forward and slid my arms around him. Warmth flooded my cheeks and I was certain they glowed bright red as my hands fumbled awkwardly around Emerson's midsection. Thankfully, I was behind him and he wasn’t looking at my face.
I couldn't believe how solid his stomach was — pure steel, not an ounce of fat to be felt anywhere. Damn. The image of him answering his door clad in nothing but a towel flashed through my mind. I had tried to suppress that image. But at the moment, all I could think of was how much he had looked like a Greek god.
“You okay back there?”
I locked my hands together instead of pressing them against his hard abs. That would have just been a little more than I could take.
“Um, yeah,” I replied, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the discomfort in my voice.
“Okay,” he said as he clicked the bike into gear. “Like I promised, I'm gonna take it easy. But there will still be some surges in acceleration when I'm driving. This machine has a sensitive throttle. She can boost forward like a rocket with just the slightest input. So hold on tight, alright?”
“Like you have to remind me.” With that, he took off.
Even though I could tell he was riding slowly, a rush of fear coursed through my veins. Being on a motorcycle was so different from being in a car. Night and day different. But as we got up to speed and the wind started to rip past us, a boost of excitement replaced the fear firing through my veins. It made being in a car seem like a bland, everyday chore. I'd always thought of it as a cliché before, but I suddenly understood what bikers meant when they talked about freedom.
With my arms wrapped around Emerson's body, I felt an intense sense of attraction as he controlled the raging beast on which we were perched, whipping in and out of traffic. The magnetism was almost primal.
A traffic light turned red ahead of us and Emerson hit the brakes, causing me to slide forward on the seat. My body came to rest pressed firmly against his.
I wondered if he could feel my breasts pressing into his back and if it stirred anything in him. I certainly couldn't deny feeling more than a little aroused by it. He turned his head to the side and flipped up his visor to speak to me.
“You alright back there?” he asked.
I mirrored his action with my own visor to reply. “Great!”
“You're not scared? No rollercoaster flashbacks?”
“Nope! I'm actually enjoying this!”
“Awesome.”
A flicker of a smile played on his lips before he tapped his visor back into place. Two seconds later, the light turned green and we took off again. I could sense the machine had so much more to offer than Emerson was allowing. I almost yelled over the engine for him to open the throttle and gas it, but there were still a few butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, no matter how much I was enjoying the ride.
After fifteen minutes of the wind racing by, we arrived at what I assumed was our destination — a hole in the wall that had a warm and inviting feel. It might have been small, but it looked classy from the outside. Emerson maneuvered the bike into a parking spot and killed the engine, and I released my arms from around his waist, a little disappointed that I had to let go. He booted out the kickstand and dismounted the bike then helped me off. It was a gentlemanly thing to do, and I couldn't help being a little impressed.
I removed my helmet and beamed a broad smile at him. I could tell he appreciated it.
“That was so cool!” I exclaimed. “Wow! I totally get bikers now! Well, okay, maybe not totally…but I can really see the appeal.”
He chuckled. It was a really sweet laugh.
“Yeah, it's great, right? I've been riding motorcycles since I was a little kid. My dad was into dirt bikes and motocross. He got me my first dirt bike when I was six. I've been hooked on bikes since.”
“Have you ever had any bad accidents?”
<
br /> “I've had plenty of spills in the dirt, yeah, but that's to be expected when you’re riding off-road. I had a pretty bad spill in a race when I was twelve. Broke my collarbone and my left wrist.”
“That didn't make you want to give up riding?”
“Hell no! I know guys who have broken both legs and been stuck in wheelchairs for six months. Guess what they did as soon as they were out of the wheelchair?”
“Get back on the bike so they could break their legs again?” I replied with a smirk.
“You got it.”
“So guys are all nuts, huh?”
“When the biking bug bites, it's generally a lifetime infection.”
“But it's so dangerous, Emerson. Seriously.”
“What's life without a little danger, a little excitement? I mean, I could play it safe, never take any risks, and still get hit by a drunk driver while walking on the sidewalk one night.”
My eyes widened. “That’s a little extreme,” I said.
“That actually happened to a guy I know. Now he's a quadriplegic. He was one of those by the book types. Was crazy obsessed with his health. Never smoked, never drank, never partied, worked out six days a week. I mean, this guy was even vegan, didn't want any animal products in his body because he said they cause cancer. Then one night, he took a walk down the street to buy a newspaper, and as he was walking out of the Kwik Stop, a drunk driver lost control of his car, skidded across the intersection, and plowed him over. He was in a coma for three months and now he's in a wheelchair. And, this was a guy who took zero risks. Now he doesn’t have the option to take a risk.”
I nodded. I couldn't really argue that point. But I wasn’t so sure I completely agreed, either. “I understand what you’re saying, but still there are risks and then there are risks,” I said. “Sure, bad luck sometimes strikes no matter what you do, but riding a motorcycle increases the risk factor exponentially.”
