Billionaire in Rehab: The Complete Series

by Claire Adams

  A strange flutter of nerves bounced around in my stomach as I got up to answer the door. I tried to shake it off. I hadn't been lying to Leslie. This was just returning a favor. At least, I didn't think I had lied to her. Unless I'd been lying to myself, as well.

  I gave my body another good shake, trying to rid myself of the unwelcome sensations before I opened the door. I took a deep breath and, with my heart speeding up a tad, I opened the door and smiled.

  “Hi, Emerson,” I said in as neutral a tone as I could manage. “Come on in.”

  “Hey, Brooke,” he said, giving me one of his heart-stopping smiles. “Thanks again for agreeing to help me out, it really means a lot to me.”

  “No problem. Come on in, have a seat.” I pointed to the sofa.

  I made sure to sit across from him after he sat down on the sofa, keeping the coffee table between us as a buffer. I wasn't quite ready to be in close proximity to him — not yet.

  “Anything to drink? Uh, we don't have beer, just so you know, but we do have wine, bottled water, and green tea.”

  I felt a bit like a prude the moment the beer comment slipped from my lips, but I also didn't want there to be any uncertainty about why he was there. I was doing my best to keep the encounter strictly business.

  “Just some water, thanks.”

  “Sure. Be right back.”

  As I headed to the kitchen, the notion that his eyes were roaming my body as I walked made me both a little nervous and a little excited.

  I came back and handed him a bottle of water as I took a seat.

  “Alright, so, what are you having trouble with?” I asked, getting straight to the task at hand and trying to avoid idle chatter.

  “Oh, uh, well, right here, on page thirty-seven, the stuff with these new equations. I'm not quite getting the formula that gets you from A to B, if you know what I'm saying.”

  “Oh yeah, I struggled with that one a bit, too. It took me a while to get it, but once it clicks, it's actually pretty simple.” I explained the concept, illustrating it as plainly and simply as I could. It took a while, but he eventually got it. He went on to ask a few more questions about certain new concepts that we'd just covered in recent reading. By the time I'd answered his questions, about an hour had passed.

  “Whew, time for a break,” I said.

  “Nah, that's all for today,” he replied. “I think I've pretty much got everything else down. But thanks. You're a really good teacher, you know that? You've got a knack for explaining the complicated stuff, you know, getting to the essence of it and simplifying it so that a doofus like me can understand it.”

  I blushed at the compliment, or maybe it was because of the way his gaze lingered a little when he looked at me. Either way, being around the man made me a little restless.

  “Come on now, you're not a doofus. I'm pretty sure most people in the class don't get half of these concepts. It's a tough class, and it looks like you're doing pretty well despite that.”

  “It is tough. But I gotta say, I'm really motivated to do well this semester.”

  “Good! So am I.”

  “You're lucky you've got a roommate like Leslie. I'm sure it's much easier to get stuff done in this apartment than it is in mine,” he confessed pensively.

  “Yeah, Leslie's awesome, and she's a hard worker, too. I guess you're right, it is easy to get things done in here.”

  I wanted to add, “Except when you and Chris are partying and having sex with those bimbos,” but, of course, I didn't.

  “Yeah, she seems cool.”

  “I guess it's not easy living with Chris if you're trying to work hard at college, huh,” I asked.

  Emerson chuckled and shook his head. “You have no idea. Chris is a machine. He just doesn't stop, ever. I'm worried about him, to tell the truth. He barely scraped through last semester. And, I'm talking only barely. Like by a single point. And, he wasn't even partying as hard as he is now. I don’t see how he's not gonna flunk out this semester. I feel bad, not because I feel like he's gonna drag me down with him — I know I'll pass, even with the partying he guilts me into — but because I can't seem to do anything to help him. I feel like a bad friend.”

  “Aw, that's sweet of you, Emerson. But you know a person has to want to help themselves and change themselves before anyone else can help them or get them to change. I know you care a lot about your friend, but you can't blame yourself for his choices.”

  “Yeah, I know. I still feel bad about it, though.”

  “I can understand. I've been there myself.”

  “You have?”

  “Yeah.” The sting of memories rushed back. “I had a friend in high school who developed anorexia. I know it's a totally different situation than yours, but in some ways there are similarities. We all saw what was happening as she got thinner and thinner, and we all desperately wanted to help her. But she wouldn't even acknowledge that she had a problem, much less that she needed help, even when we tried to stage an intervention. Eventually, it got so bad that her family had to pull her out of school and put her in hospital.”

  “Oh man, that's terrible.”

  “I know. And, all of us felt so guilty, like it had been our fault because we hadn’t stopped her somehow. But it wasn’t that we hadn’t tried so, so hard to get her to see herself differently. One of the saddest parts was that she was beautiful before the disorder. But nothing we ever said or did could convince her of that. Nothing.”

  “That is sad. Man, I guess my situation with Chris doesn't even compare to something that hardcore.”

  “Oh, no. I didn't mean to make light of your situation or to suggest that it wasn't a serious problem. I was just trying to show you that you shouldn't blame yourself if he doesn't want to change or get help. I know you probably feel like you're not trying hard enough or not doing the right things to change him but, like I said, there's only so much you can do if he refuses to want to change himself.”

  “I appreciate that, Brooke. That's good advice, actually. And, it does make me feel a little less guilty about the whole thing.”

  He looked at his watch and stood up. “It's getting kinda late. I guess I should go. Thanks again for the help. I really, really appreciate it.”

  His eagerness to get the hell out of dodge caught me a little by surprise. It usually seemed that he was trying to start conversations with me. But here we were, I had just opened up to him, and he was shutting it down and heading out. Still, as much as a part of me wanted to tell him to sit down and stay longer, another part was reminding me that this was exactly what I needed — to keep things formal and maintain a distance between us.

  “You’re welcome,” I said as I stood. “It was my pleasure to help.” I went over and opened the front door to let him out. “I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

  He stopped next to me and stood there a moment. There was a bit of an awkward pause in which I couldn't decide whether to hug him goodbye or not. And, judging by the way he looked down at me, it seemed that he, too, was wrestling with the decision. A jolt of adrenaline passed between us as our eyes met. Then, as if he’d been a gawky schoolboy, he merely waved goodbye, walked out, and headed back to his place.

  I shut the door and headed to the kitchen, more than a little confused over the feeling that lingered after every encounter with Emerson. I needed a glass of wine. Or some chocolate. Maybe both. After a snack, I packed my books away and then started my nightly routine and made my way into my bedroom to climb into bed.

  That's when I heard it.

  Again.

  Grunting, groaning, moaning, thumping.

  Well, that explained why he wanted to get home so suddenly. I guess Melissa had been waiting for him.

  I walked back to the kitchen, poured another glass of wine to help me sleep, and then climbed back into bed, feeling a little sick to my stomach for reasons I really couldn’t explain.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Emerson

  I plunked down in my usual
seat right behind Brooke, only to find that she was engaged in what seemed like a pretty in-depth conversation with Garrett, which, I hate to admit, annoyed the hell out of me. It really shouldn't have, but it did. She glanced over her shoulder and saw I was there, but all I got was a quick, emotionless hello before she returned to her conversation with Garrett.

  The fact that she seemed to be doing a lot more smiling and laughing when talking to him than she did during our conversations only added to my aversion for him.

  Thankfully (for me) the professor walked in and they had to shut it down. As the lecture began, instead of paying attention like I needed to do, I began to wonder why I was feeling so annoyed. It wasn't that I was trying to pursue Brooke. I’d even given her the distance and space she so obviously wanted by leaving directly after we’d finished our study session the night before. So what was going on here? I mean, I knew she had some sort of attraction to me. I could sense it every time our eyes met. Yet, at the same time, she seemed determined not to let me get closer to her.

  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 see
med 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 be 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.