by Claire Adams
“He isn't,” I said flatly. I wasn't sure why, but a burning feeling of annoyance was bubbling beneath my skin.
“You don't know that.”
“And, you don't know that I’m wrong, either,” I countered. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. Besides, subject change: He's coming back with his friend.”
Leslie glanced up and saw Emerson coming out of the apartment building followed by a very muscular, deeply-tanned guy with short, spiky hair held in place with what I could only guess was an entire bottle of gel. Bulging muscles screamed against an impossibly tight wife-beater tank. I tried not to squint my eyes in a way that made it obvious I was questioning his decision to wear the garish gold chain that hung around his neck. He looked us each up and down without even trying to conceal it and whistled slowly from between his teeth.
“Ladies,” he said with a cheeky smile. “Welcome to our kingdom! I'm Chris, King of the Realm. And, you two are obviously the princesses we've been waiting for.”
He laughed boisterously at his own joke while Leslie and I shot each other sideways glances out of the corners of our eyes and shook our heads as we chuckled politely. There may have been a little controversy regarding what kind of guy Emerson was, but there certainly wasn't any about Chris.
He hopped up onto the back of the truck next to me and pulled his sunglasses down his nose a bit so that he could lock his brown eyes with mine for a second. I looked away, not wanting him to see the distaste in my eyes and think I was being completely rude. Thankfully, he seemed completely oblivious to it.
“I heard you ladies needed some muscle,” he said as he flexed his enormous biceps. “Well, as you can tell, there's more than enough of that to go around!” He grinned and flexed in front of us again, prompting a bout of giggles from Leslie. I couldn't quite tell if they were mocking giggles or if she was, on some level, actually attracted to this dim-wit.
Again, Chris laughed loudly at his own lame joke, and I couldn't stop myself from shaking my head and wondering just what type of girls fell for this guy; no matter how hot his body was, he was a tool.
“Okay, bro, grab that side,” he said to Emerson, who now seemed a lot more reserved and quiet compared to his loudmouthed friend.
“I got it, man,” Emerson said as he gripped the edges of the sofa.
“Okay, hit it!” instructed Chris, and the two of them grunted and maneuvered the heavy sofa from the back of the truck.
While Chris was clearly vying for our attention, I found it easy to ignore his brash arrogance. It wasn’t so easy, however, to ignore Emerson. While Chris' physique bordered on the ridiculous—there was no way he wasn’t on steroids—Emerson's was more natural, less extreme, but powerful nonetheless. I found my gaze lingering far too long on the rippling muscles of Emerson’s arms as he carried the heavy sofa across the lawn. I had to admit, the way the afternoon sunlight caught the stubble on his jaw as he turned toward me took my breath away just for an instant.
Several grunts later (and more ludicrous comments from Chris), the two of them disappeared into our apartment with the sofa and emerged a few minutes later, each covered in a sheen of sweat that enhanced their well-developed physiques. Emerson hung back, dabbing at his sweat with a handkerchief he'd retrieved from his pocket. I smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a younger guy carrying a handkerchief. Chris, on the other hand, walked immediately back over to us, smiling suggestively all the while.
“Any other heavy lifting I could help you two with? Now or…later perhaps?”
Leslie laughed and folded her arms across her chest. “Thanks, Chris, but that was the only thing we needed help with. We're super grateful for your assistance, but I think we’re good.”
“You sure? I mean, that sofa was nothing really. Nothing compared to what I'm about to go smash in the gym. Seriously, if you need us to help out with anything else, we're down.”
“Thanks, guys. We’ve got it from here,” Leslie reassured him.
Emerson took a few steps closer to us and looked up into the back of the truck. His eyes met mine, and I turned away quickly.
“Are you sure you guys don't need any more help?” he asked, directing the question at me.
“We're totally fine now, thanks,” interjected Leslie.
“Yeah. We’re good. Thanks,” I said, still avoiding eye contact.
Chris shrugged. “Alright then, ladies. So, uh, what time is the housewarming? I'll bring Jell-O shots and vodka. Say nine, nine thirty?”
“There isn't gonna be a housewarming,” I said, aware of how cold my tone had suddenly become. “We have a lot of unpacking to do, and since we have class Monday morning, this has to get done. We're both swamped this semester, and I seriously don't think we're gonna have time for parties.”
Chris stared at me for a moment and then he shook his head. “Whatevs. You only live once, yo. Life's too short to waste sitting behind a desk staring at books all day. And yeah, speaking of short, we're gonna be late for gym, bro! Jason already messaged me like ten minutes ago saying he was waiting for us.”
“Alright,” Emerson replied. “Let's go. See you around, uh…”
“I'm Leslie, and this is Brooke,” Leslie announced.
“Leslie and Brooke,” Emerson said as if he was completing his sentence. “It’s really nice to meet you both. I guess we’ll see you around sometime, and welcome to the neighborhood.”
With that, he climbed onto his bike, while Chris climbed into a sleek, black sports car. No real shocker there. Emerson started his bike up and revved the engine before spinning the back wheel as he took off. Chris winked at us as he pulled out of his parking space. Leslie laughed, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. When they were gone, Leslie grabbed a box from the tailgate of the truck and grinned up at me with a look I knew all too well.
“Come on, BeeBee,” she said. “You have to admit you saw it. Emerson couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He’s totally got a thing for you.”
“I have to admit nothing,” I fired back, trying to sound less defensive than I felt for some reason. I didn't want to think about that guy, or any guy for that matter—not with thoughts of Andrew still swirling around my head. It had been months; I knew I should be getting over it, but for some reason, what he had done still haunted me.
“Can we please just forget about it, Les? I'm not in the mood. Let's just get the rest of this stuff into the apartment. I've gotta get the truck back to Bryan soon.”
“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “But seriously, you’re going to have to lighten up sometime.”
Yeah, I thought to myself.
I am.
But not today.
Chapter 2
Emerson
“One more rep, E! Smash it, come on!” Chris growled at me.
I grunted under the bar as I pushed with all my might against the unrelenting weight. My arms felt like jelly and a fiery pain blasted through them as if my blood had been replaced with molten lava. Still, I delved deeper into the final reserves of strength I had left and extended my arms up until they locked, completing the rep. With a sigh of relief, I lowered the bar onto its supports and closed my eyes.
“Yeah, bro! Yeah!” Chris whooped. “New record, yo! Two hundred and eighty pounds! High five!”
With my eyes still closed, I extended a trembling hand, which he slapped enthusiastically.
“Of course,” he added, “if you would just try out a lil', you know, juice you'd be pushing three hundred and eighty pounds instead and you’d be doin’ it with ease, like me.”
“Not gonna happen,” I replied. “That stuff… I know you say it's safe, but you gotta think long term. It does a lotta damage to your body. No thanks, man; I'm just lifting to stay strong and healthy.”
“It is safe if you inject it and cycle it correctly, like I do. And, look at the results, bro! I'm ripped, dude! Bitches can't get enough of me. Yo, especially those two little hotties who just moved in next door! What did you think, man? Did they live up
to old Wally's description or what? Don’t you remember last time we went down there to sort out the rent, he told us there was gonna be two smokin’ hot chicks moving in next to us? As old as he is, he sure ain't blind. They are fine. Especially the quiet one, what was her name?”
“Brooke,” I replied as I sat up from the bench and dabbed the sweat from my forehead with a gym towel.
Chris punched me playfully in the shoulder.
“I saw you checking her out, bro. Don't deny it.”
I shrugged. “I admit, she’s gorgeous. But man, she's got a bit of an attitude, don't ya think? I mean, we hauled that heavy sofa up three flights of stairs for her and she could barely find it in her to mutter a thank you? Yeah, she may be hot, but with a personality like that, I can't say I'm all that interested in getting to know her much.”
Chris scoffed. “Why you gotta get to know her, bro? I didn't say you should date her or make her your girlfriend or nothing. Shit, just get in there, have some fun, and then move on to the next one, before things get 'complicated' as chicks always like to say.”
Because I'm not like you, Chris is what I wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, I merely shrugged. “She's just not my type, man,” I replied. “I don't wanna waste time with a chick that I would just never be compatible with in a million years. And besides, you heard her–she's gonna have her nose stuck in books the whole semester, anyway. She sounds like an overachiever. Nah man, seriously, just forget about it. And what about you, huh? Why don't you see if you can pull something off with her roommate, Leslie? She seemed like a lot more fun-loving than Brooke. A little more your speed.”
“I dunno, bro,” he said with a shit-eating grin pasted across his unnaturally tanned face. “If you're not gonna go for Brooke, I think I just might get in there myself, know what I mean?”
A sudden flicker of jealousy flared up inside me—as much as I wanted to deny it. Stay the hell away from her is what I wanted to say, but I didn't. I took a moment to try to suppress the unwarranted reaction and then replied in a tone as calm and unemotional as I could muster, “Yeah, sure, whatever. Go ahead, if you wanna waste your time on a bore like her.”
“Maybe I will,” he grinned, apparently completely oblivious to the rage bubbling just beneath my skin.
“Hey, check it out,” he said, changing the topic and pointing across the gym. “Melissa.”
I looked up and my heart sank. It was definitely Melissa—and she had seen us.
“Here she comes, bro,” Chris whispered as Melissa stepped off of her exercise bike and headed over to where we stood in the free weights section.
Melissa had a crush on me for, well, I don't know how long. As long as I could remember. We'd had one or two moments together, but they'd always been when I was drunk. It wasn't that I wasn't physically attracted to her. I mean, any guy would be. She had a killer body and was a beautiful girl, but something about the kind of person she was not only put me off, it kind of repulsed me.
Chris, though, was super into her. It was pretty obvious to everyone but him that those feelings weren’t reciprocal. For whatever reason, it was me she was into. And the more I tried to push her away, the harder she tried to get into the zone. To make it worse, Chris would encourage it because whenever Melissa would want to hang out with us, she'd bring along a bevy of hot friends, most of whom were airheads who fell head over heels for his ripped body and lame jokes. It was easy pickings for him.
I admit, they were fun to be around for a while, fun to drink with, but I didn't care for the pressure Melissa always put on me. And, it would always end up like that when we had parties at our place. Chris and the other guys would be chatting merrily away with Melissa's friends, while she would manage to maneuver me away from the crowd and get me alone.
Time to put my powers of resistance to the test again—not that it would be an issue since I hadn’t been drinking.
“Well, hey there, guys,” she said as she walked toward us, exaggerating the swaying of her hips as she did. It looked like she'd just had a session in the spray tan booth. Her entire body was an even, honey-toned hue. It was hard to not to notice since most of her tanned skin was revealed in her skimpy gym outfit. It also looked like she'd just been to the cosmetic dentist; her teeth seemed impossibly white against her skin. I suddenly found myself wondering if anything on her was real. I knew her chest was fake—I won’t go into details about how I knew—and as she turned around (on purpose, I'm sure) I had to wonder if there were implants in the back, too. Such a perfectly round, firm rear just didn't seem like it was, well, real.
“Hi, Mel,” Chris said. “Working hard over there?”
“You bet. I'm a certified personal trainer now. Did you know that?” She was speaking to Chris, but her eyes were on me.
Chris replied anyway. “No way! Nice, girl, nice! So you're gonna be in the gym all day, every day now, huh?” he asked.
“That's right.”
“Damn, girl, I wish I could spend that much time in here.”
She turned to me. “And what about you, Emerson? Do you wish you could spend all day every day in here, too? With me?”
“Um, well, I like the gym,” I replied uneasily, avoiding eye contact, “but uh, I'm way too busy with other stuff to even think of doing something like that.”
Melissa rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “You're still persisting with that boring-ass science shit? You could be out making good cash right now, Emerson. You could model, for one thing. I told you, I've got connections to get you good-paying jobs. Or you could get serious about the gym and get your personal training certification like I have.”
“I'd have to drop out of college to take those jobs, Mel. They're all-day shoots, and often in different cities. And besides, I mean, thanks for the compliment and everything, but I just don't want to be a model. Science is my passion. Physics—”
“Is so lame and boring.” She rolled her eyes again. “And seriously, what are you gonna do with that when you graduate? Teach high school? There's no money in that.”
“It’s not about the money. Like I said, it's my passion and—”
“Hey, guys,” a new voice interrupted me. I glanced in its direction and saw Emily, one of Melissa's friends. She was dressed all in pink, and her bleached-blonde hair was done up in two bouncy pigtails. Like Melissa, she was well-built. And also like Melissa, I couldn't really be sure how much of it was real or how much of it had been surgically enhanced.
“Well, hey there, sexy,” Chris replied, looking Emily up and down with unabashed lust in his eyes. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, I'm totally awesome! You guys are looking good, all pumped up and sweaty, huh?”
“We've been crushing the lifts, yeah. Emerson here just broke his personal bench press record; he nailed two hundred and eighty pounds, yo.”
Emily beamed a toothy grin and me and clapped her hands with delight. “Nicely done, Emerson!”
Not to be bested, Chris had to interject. “Well, it's decent… for Emerson's standards. He's got a long way to go to get to four hundred pounds, though,” he said as he folded his arms across his chest and not-so-subtly flexed his upper body muscles to a point of bulging. “Just keep working hard, though, bro. We'll get you there.”
“Say, what are you guys up to tonight?” asked Mel.
“I'm—” I began, knowing where this was gonna go.
Chris, however, also knew where it was gonna go, and he wanted it to go there. “Nothing,” he said quickly, interrupting me before I could complete my sentence. “We've got no plans. You ladies wanna come over to our place for a drink or two? Then maybe we can head out and hit the clubs? It is Friday, after all, and the last weekend before the new semester starts.”
“Now, that sounds like a plan,” Melissa said, staring straight at me with a suggestive glint sparkling in her blue eyes. “I’ll bring the vodka.”
I needed to get out for a while. Chris had been playing Call of Duty for over three hours and I cou
ld only take so much war. The sounds of grenades exploding and machine guns firing were driving me a bit nuts, especially coming through his huge sound system. It sounded as loud in my room as it did in his, whether the door was closed or not. The walls inside our apartment were paper-thin.
I walked past his door and knocked on my way out. “Hey, dude, I'm going to get out of the apartment for a bit, maybe walk down the road. I might pick up some chips and whatever on the way back; you want anything?”
“Nah, bro, I'm good,” came the reply, almost drowned out by a hammering machine gun blast that seemed to rattle the walls themselves. I wondered if the new neighbors could hear Chris' game, too.
As soon as I stepped out of the front door, I had the chance to get an answer to that question, but I never asked. Brooke was stepping out of her apartment at the exact same time. An unexpected thrill rushed through my veins at the sight of her long raven hair spilling over her shoulders, revealed so casually through a strappy top. She was dragging what seemed to be a pretty heavy garbage bag out of the apartment.
I walked over to her and smiled. “Hi, Brooke.”
If she was happy to see me, she didn't really show it. “Hi, um…”
“Emerson,” I reminded her.
“Sorry, I'm terrible with names. I forget my own sometimes.”
