by Claire Adams
“You believe in fate?”
“Yeah. I do, actually.”
“Like in those Final Destination movies?” I joked with a grin.
He laughed. “Man, I used to love those when I was a kid! Are they still making them? I mean, they must be up to like Final Destination 12 or 13 now if they are!”
I chuckled. “I think they stopped on number five or six.”
“Oh, you don't know how much Hollywood loves horror sequels. They'll milk it until it literally can’t be milked for another drop.”
“I think they may have reached that point in number five. It was awful,” I replied.
“Nope. It can always get lower. Always. I mean, didn't you see that South Park episode where James Cameron took a submarine into the deepest trench in the ocean to find out how far the bar has been lowered?”
A grin broke out over my face. “I did not. I don't watch South Park. It's so crude, come on. Do you really think that sort of stuff is funny?”
Emerson shot me a mischievous grin. “It's hilarious, Brooke! C'mon, you shouldn't just write it off like that without giving it a chance. It's actually pretty awesome social commentary.”
I couldn’t believe he’d just said, “social commentary.” I wasn't expecting that from a guy like Emerson. A guy who admitted to doing awful in school the previous semester. A guy who rode a motorcycle, partied, and spent more time in the gym than one guy probably should. I didn’t expect it, but I had to say it was stimulating to hear it. The more he showed me this side of him, the more attracted to him I found myself.
“Social commentary, huh? Alright, alright, maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge. Maybe I should give it a chance.”
“I've got every season on my hard drive. I'll lend 'em to you.”
“You're that big of a fan, are you?” I gasped with mock surprise.
“Yes, I am! How did we get onto this topic again, anyway?”
“Uh, fate. We were talking about fate. Then Final Destination, and then…”
“Oh, right. Yeah, got it. Well, like I was saying, I do believe in fate. Destiny. If something is meant to happen, it happens.”
I wanted to ask, “So you believe if two people are supposed to meet, they will?” But I didn't. I didn't want to be too suggestive of anything at the moment, and I suddenly realized I had been letting my defenses down with Emerson, something I had explicitly set out to not do. Things were starting to get a little dangerous and I began to question my decision to come out to eat with him. I rarely made impulsive decisions, so what had prompted me to agree to dinner?
I needed to back off a little, to cool things down because they definitely seemed to be heating up. Of course, I could not back out of dinner. We were already at the restaurant, and it would have been a bitchy thing to make up an excuse and ask that he take me home. So, for the rest of the evening, I'd just have to keep my guard up and make a conscious effort to keep some distance between us. I couldn’t keep letting myself get drawn too deeply into conversation with him. I couldn’t let myself fall for his charm—charm that he certainly had. I couldn’t allow that suggestive glimmer in his eyes or the curve of his heart-stopping smile get to me. Whatever attraction I was feeling to him, it seemed pretty certain he was feeling for me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at ease chatting with a guy. It felt like forever, to be honest. Granted, I’d had some good chats with Garrett from class, but nothing that felt quite as comfortable and easy as how Emerson and I had suddenly been chatting. It was just natural, and that’s what had me concerned. I had to wonder what exactly was happening.
Everything that I had hoped wouldn't happen, that’s what.
I made a conscious attempt to reel things back in. “Well, enough talk about what we don’t have any control over. I’m hungry, and we do have control over that,” I offered with a forced smile. “Besides, I've actually got a lot of work to do, so let's quit standing around and go inside and get some food.”
“Alright,” he agreed. “I've got a lot to get done, too, so, let's go.”
Chapter 14
Emerson
It was almost like I’d flipped channels with a remote control. One minute, the conversation was easy and fun and we seemed to be hitting it off. The next, I saw something wash over her beautiful face, and just like that, the mask returned, the armor was back on, and the walls were erect.
But for a few moments, I got to see something more. The real Brooke. The girl hiding inside that suit of armor. And I have to say, I liked her. I liked her a lot. Which might have been the problem.
I think she sensed that. And not only did she sense it, but she felt it, too. That’s why she put the walls back up so abruptly. There was no doubt about it, Brooke was afraid of letting someone in. I don’t know who the asshole was, but someone had done a number on her in the past. She’d apparently been hurt pretty bad and her number one concern had become protecting herself. I had to give her credit, she was doing a bang-up job of that.
I wasn't sure what to do next or even what to say. The reality of it all was this: I was attracted to Brooke. Really attracted to her. In a way, I hadn't felt before. She was incredibly different from every other girl I knew, especially Melissa. Somehow, I think she knew how I was feeling and wasn’t ready for it. Maybe all she saw when she looked at me was this guy she could really connect with, who also wanted to truly connect with her. And that only made her want to reinforce those walls around her heart with even more steel and concrete.
So, as I walked into Patak's behind her, I tried to decide how the next hour might play out. I wondered if I should keep things light or address the elephant in the room and try to actually have a serious discussion with her about how I felt. How she felt. Because no matter how she tried to deny it, she felt it, too. I could see it on her face, hear it in the tremble of her voice, feel it in the magnetism between us.
I was walking a razor's edge. If I told her how I felt about her, she might shut me out completely—and permanently. Was that a risk I was willing to take?
I didn't know. And not knowing was my answer. So, I decided to keep it light. Do exactly the opposite of what I had told Brooke only moments earlier. I decided to play it safe.
Mr. Patak, the owner of the restaurant, and my friend's dad was walking out of the kitchen as we entered. He immediately greeted us. “Emerson!” he called to me, his voice colored with a heavy Indian accent. “So good to see you, my boy!”
“Good evening, Mr. Patak,” I replied.
He walked over to us with a large grin pasted across his face and extended a hand to me. I took it, and he shook my hand vigorously, grinning all the while. “How are you? And, who is this lovely young lady? Is this your girlfriend?”
He extended a hand to Brooke and shook her hand gently.
“No, no,” I insisted, maybe a bit too hastily. “She's my neighbor. Brooke, this is Mr. Patak, owner of this fine establishment.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, a real pleasure!” he said. “Such a beauty! Why are you and Emerson not girlfriend and boyfriend? You two are both so good looking. You could have such lovely-looking children.”
We both laughed, albeit somewhat uncomfortably, and I could see Brooke blushing.
“Oh, I'm just too busy for a boyfriend,” she said, her cheeks still glowing red.
He shook his head and held up his forefinger as if he was about to make a profound point. “No, no, no. Nobody should be too busy for love! Love, young lady, that is what life is all about. Without it, well, life is like eating only bowls of plain white rice. Yes, it will keep you alive, but life will be so bland and boring and flavorless that you will wonder if you're really doing anything beyond merely existing and surviving. Love, young lady, that is the spice, the herbs, the exotic dishes and flavors and aromas that make life worth living! Don't make yourself too busy with merely surviving. One has to live, as well.”
She smiled at his words of wisdom. They were delivered with such cha
rm and sweet sincerity that all she could do was beam a smile at him. Hell, even I felt a bit warm and fuzzy inside after hearing it. I knew, though, that once Mr. Patak started talking, he wouldn't stop, so I gently steered Brooke in the direction of the nearest table.
“Can we sit here, Mr. Patak?” I asked.
“Of course, of course.”
“Sorry, we're just in a bit of a rush. We're both in the same chemistry class, and we've got a lot of work to get done over the weekend.”
“I see, I see. Well, then, I won't take up any more of your time. I'll send a waiter over with some menus right now. I must get back to the kitchen anyway; we have new staff, and I have to be strict with them to make sure they get things right. You know how I… how do you say… run a tight ship?”
“That's right, Mr. Patak. And you run the best ship in town!”
“Oh, thank you, my boy, thank you! Oh, and I must tell Sanjay that you came by.”
“Yeah, please do. I was chatting with him on Facebook just the other day. Seems like he's enjoying medical school.”
“Oh, he is! And, he is doing so well! His mother and I are so proud of him. Anyway, off with me! I'll send a waiter over.” With that, Mr. Patak hurried off and shortly after a waiter arrived with menus.
“You know him pretty well, huh?” Brooke remarked.
“Yeah, like I said, I went to school with Sanjay, his son.”
“He seems like a really nice man.”
“Oh yeah, but he'll talk your ear off if you let him.”
She chuckled and I hoped that meant the walls might be coming down a bit. “I can see that,” she replied, the smile fading as quickly as it had appeared.
Back to business, it seemed.
“So, what do you recommend?” she asked. “They don't take too long to prepare the meals, do they?”
“Nah, Mr. P will get them done quickly because I just told him we're in a hurry. Um, man, there are so many great dishes here, it's kinda hard to pick a single one to recommend. I'd say the korma curry or the dhal makhani. Those are my go-to dishes. With garlic naan bread or butter naan. And maybe some samosas on the side, too. They make to-die-for samosas.”
“What's a samosa?”
I gave her a mocking shocked glare. “What?” I teased. “You don't eat Indian that often, do you?”
She allowed herself a smile. “Not too often, I confess.”
“Samosas are awesome. They're like these little pastry triangles filled with potato curry. But they’re like a hard, crispy kind of pastry. Deep-fried. I guess they're not that healthy, but as a once-in-a-while thing, they're a real treat.”
“I'm sold. Let's get some of those. And, I guess I'll go with the veggie korma. It looks pretty amazing on the menu, at least.”
“You won't be disappointed. Everything they bring to the table looks just like the pics in the menu and tastes just as good as you imagine, too.”
“Cool. Let's do it then.”
I called the waiter over and ordered our meals. I knew there would be a good twenty-minute wait before the food arrived. They were fast, but not that fast. The question running through my head was how I might pass the time if Brooke was avoiding eye contact and I was avoiding spooking her even more than I seemed to have already.
That’s when fate stepped in.
A couple around our age walked in. I didn't recognize either of them, but Brooke clearly did. Her eyes grew deer-in-headlights wide.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped.
I cocked my head to the side and looked over at her. “What is it? Everything okay?”
“No. Ben and Jess.”
“Uh, who?
She held the menu up to hide her face as they walked past us. “Did they see me?” she whispered from behind the menu.
“Umm, not that I could tell,” I replied. “They walked past without even looking. Looks like they're going to sit at a table at the back. You can come out now, they can't see you from there.”
She slowly lowered the menu and peered over the top then sighed with relief. “Whew. Thank goodness. So anyway, what about dessert? Is there anything go-”
“Whoa, hold up, hold up, missy! You can't act like you’re hiding from the cops and not tell me what that was about!” I cocked an eyebrow at her curiously and narrowed my gaze. Waiting. I halfway expected her to try to weasel her way out of explaining, but to my surprise, she obliged my request.
“That's Ben Smout and his girlfriend Jessica Avery. They were…” She stopped as if trying to get her thoughts together before she continued. “Well, that guy, Ben, he's the best friend of my ex, Andrew. I haven't seen him—Ben, I mean… Well, or Andrew—so, I haven't seen either of them since the breakup. And, I don't want to see them. Ever.”
“Oh, I see,” I said uneasily.
The waiter walked by our table just in time to keep me from having to think of something to say. Which was great because I didn’t have a clue what to say in the situation. When the waiter continued to walk away, he left us to the awkward silence.
“You know, uh,” I began, “you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. We can just forget those two are even here. Eat quick and leave quick and they won't ever see you.”
She was silent for a moment. I imagined she was struggling with whether she wanted to shut this whole thing down or not. After a few moments, she looked me dead in the eyes and did exactly the opposite of what I had expected her to do. She opened up.
“Andrew was my first love. We started dating in high school. I fell head-over-heels for him and he had me convinced he felt the same way about me. I thought—and I know this is gonna sound stupid, but it’s how I felt—I thought he was going to be the guy I married, the guy I’d spend the rest of my life with. He’s the reason I’m even here. I could've gone to a better college. I'm talking Ivy League. I could have… but I didn't. I chose to stay here, in this town, because of him. I couldn't bear the thought of being away from him for weeks at a time.”
All I could do was nod sympathetically in response. I was already certain this story wasn't going to end well. After all, she’d been hiding behind a menu.
“So, I made a big sacrifice for him, for us. I gave up my chance to attend Dartmouth so I could be with the guy I thought was my soulmate. I really thought that he was The One.”
“And then, you found out he wasn't,” I stated softly.
Tears began to well up in her eyes. The sight of her hurting gripped my heart and squeezed. “You don't have to tell me about this,” I assured her. “Seriously, if it's painful to talk about, we can talk about something else.”
“No,” she replied, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the edge of a sleeve from her sweater. “It’s okay. Les keeps telling me I need to stop avoiding it, so, this is me not avoiding it.”
I nodded. “Alright.”
“So, last year, Andrew and that guy over there, Ben, went on a fishing trip one weekend. Andrew picked up my tablet by mistake thinking it was his, which meant he left his tablet in its place. And, he left it unlocked. Normally, he was super strict about privacy and had everything protected with passwords, so that was highly unusual. I guess that fact alone should have clued me in that something was going on.”
“I see where this is going,” I murmured.
“Yeah, I'm sure you do. So, well, I kinda knew I shouldn't do it, but because he was so crazy about privacy and never let me even touch his tablet or computer or phone, I just had this burning curiosity. And there his tablet sat… all mine for the weekend. I fought with myself over it. So, I went into the settings and completely disabled the password, but then I left it for the first day. I resisted the temptation to snoop. But there was just something gnawing at me. This gut feeling. Like a knot in my stomach. The next day, after I’d had some wine, I caved. I opened it and started looking through the pictures. That’s when I found…” She paused, took a deep breath, composed herself a little, but tears had already began to trickle down her cheek. “I found videos
.”
My forehead scrunched. “What? Like porn videos?”
“No. Well, yes. I suppose so. Videos of him.”
“Oh wow.”
“Videos of him having sex with other girls.”
“Wait. Girls? As in plural?”
She nodded. “Yes. He wasn't just cheating on me with one girl. He'd been cheating on me with at least five other girls.”
“Holy hell. Five?!”
“Five.”
“Damn. So, what did you do?”
“What could I do? I ended it. Right there and then. I packed up all of his stuff. Since I had a key, I drove to his place and hooked up the tablet to his giant TV and I left the videos he’d made playing on a loop so he'd see them as soon as he opened his front door when he got back from his fishing trip. I packed up anything of mine that was at his apartment and as I left, I dumped all of his stuff just outside of his door in a pile. I didn’t even bother to lock the door as I left. I drove straight to the maintenance office for my apartment and got my locks changed since he also had a key to my place. I told the security guy at my building not let him in. That was it.”
“You guys didn't talk after that?”
“No. He tried calling, but I wouldn’t answer. What could I say? What could he say? The evidence was there. And it was obvious it had been going on for a long time, it wasn't like it had just been a single, drunken one-night-stand or something. You know, something excusable—not that something like that is really excusable, but it would have been way more excusable than repeatedly banging a different girl every night and videoing it.”
“Yeah. That's a real scumbag thing to do.”
“Understatement of the year. Bottom line, it broke my heart and my spirit for quite a while.”
I wanted to reach across the table and take her hand, but I wasn’t sure if that might be overstepping a boundary and we were just making progress, so I decided against it. I didn't know what to do or say. The story took me a little by surprise. I’d expected him to have cheated the minute she said he’d been private about his tablet. I hadn’t expected to hear that he’d been an amateur porn star. It pissed me off. If a guy wanted to be free to sleep around, then he shouldn’t have been stringing anyone along, lying to them, putting them at risk for God knows what. The guy was a douchebag. Plain and simple. The more I thought about it, the hotter my blood boiled. Before I even realized what I’d said, the words just seemed to slip out of my mouth.
