by Joey Bush
“That you're all a bunch of nerds?” she replied with a wink and a grin.
I laughed, feeling pleasantly surprised that the Ice Queen had something of a sense of humor, after all.
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “The other thing they say.”
“Always prepared,” she replied. “And you are?”
“Totally prepared. I've got everything you need…I mean, I need,” I stammered, trying to recover from my Freudian slip. Brooke arched an eyebrow. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead.
“Well, okay then. Let's get started, shall we?”
She headed to the cabinet to get the beakers together and started setting everything up. Straight down to business. I felt a little disappointed, having hoped to have been able to at least get a little more conversation in. On the other hand, I did want to demonstrate that I was taking this class as seriously as she was.
“Should I measure out the chemicals while you're doing that?” I asked.
“Please do,” she replied, without looking up from what she was doing.
I went about sorting the chemicals, carefully measuring the exact quantities we needed for our experiment.
“Alright, I'm all set here,” she said. “How about you? Are you good?”
I measured out the last of the potassium. “Yep. We're good on this side.”
“Great. Write that down, then we'll get it going.”
We both scribbled down the details needed, and we then put everything together in the main beaker and turned on the Bunsen burner.
“Are you writing the chemical equations under each step or have you created a separate table for them?” I asked.
“Separate table. It looks neater that way, but I think the prof is fine with either.”
We watched as the concoction started to bubble.
“Looks like the elements are starting to separate,” I remarked.
Her face remained cool and expressionless. Strictly business seemed to be her attitude about this whole thing.
“Yeah. It should only take another two minutes before the process is complete,” she responded.
“You sure?”
“I know it will.”
“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” I replied with a grin.
For the first time since I'd entered the lab she looked up and locked her eyes with mine. “What did you say?”
“Oh, nothing,” I replied, feeling deflated, assuming my joke passed right over her head. “It was just a Game of Thrones reference. Just, you know, trying to get a bit of humor in here.”
She chuckled, and I could see from the way her eyes lit up that her laughter was genuine.
“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she said, repeating my words with a smile. “He's my favorite character, you know. Him and Arya.”
I smiled, realizing I may have just struck gold.
“My favorite was Eddard — that is, until he lost his head at the end of season one.”
“Oh my God, spoiler alerts please!” she exclaimed with mock horror.
“Come on,” I chuckled, “if you know the line, you've already seen way past season one!”
“Alright, alright,” she said. “I'm just messing with you.”
I tried to keep the conversation going. It felt good to finally connect on something with this girl.
“So, as I was saying before I so selfishly gave away that massive spoiler, Eddard Stark was my favorite character, but now I'd have to say it's Tyrion.”
“A Lannister always pays his debts,” she commented. “I have to say I'm pretty fond of Daenerys, too. She's come a long way since being sold as a bride to a Dothraki warlord in season one. I feel like she's really gonna start causing some proper chaos with those dragons of hers in the new season.”
“Oh man, I literally cannot wait! She's gonna set shit on fire!”
We had gotten so into our conversation that we hadn't noticed the chemical reaction in the beaker had started to intensify and was bubbling over the edges.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Brooke as she saw this. “Looks like we're gonna set something on fire!”
I leaned across the lab table and turned off the Bunsen burner. Immediately, the mixture started to recede back into the beaker.
“Whew,” I said. “That could've been bad.”
The smile that on Brooke's face while we had been talking about Game of Thrones had vanished and been replaced by a look of icy somberness.
“It is bad. We've overcooked this. We should have been paying attention.”
“That's alright, just dump that out, I'll measure out the quantities again and we'll repeat the experiment.”
She seemed rather upset, and I couldn't help but wonder whether the fact that we'd messed up the experiment was upsetting her or the fact that she'd let her guard down in front of me. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
“Alright,” she conceded, “I'll get rid of this mess. Get those quantities measured out again and this time, no talking. We pay close attention and get things right. Got it?”
Her tone was stiff and almost authoritarian — a total reversal of the easy, open, and chatty Brooke I'd witnessed just moments earlier, and all I could do was mumble a quiet agreement.
We repeated the experiment in silence. When we had completed it successfully, she cleaned up the equipment without a word and packed it all away by herself.
Things had gone from light-hearted to severe in the blink of an eye. And somehow, I felt as if she was blaming me for the chill in the air, even though I felt like it was coming from her and her alone. I had no idea why was I feeling this way, anyway. She really wasn't my type. Having feelings for her considering how she was treating me didn’t make sense. But for some reason, there was something there.
“Got all your notes?” she asked.
“Um, yeah. I've got everything.”
“Alright, I guess that's that then. See you in class tomorrow.”
Without another word, she turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my bruised ego…and my disappointment.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brooke
I walked out of the lab wondering what had just happened. Had I just bonded with Emerson? He caught me off guard when he threw that Game of Thrones line at me. He did not seem like the type who would be into my favorite show. Initially, I thought he may have started the conversation as a way to get to me, that maybe he'd heard the show playing from my apartment as he walked past and did a bit of Googling to learn about the show.
But he knew a little too much about the characters and it didn't seem like the kind of thing Emerson would do. He may have come across as a lot of things, but he never came across as having a creepy stalker vibe. If I told Leslie about it, she’d insist it was yet another act of fate pushing us together.
I'd never believed too much in the concept of fate or destiny, but things were getting more than a little uncanny here. I wondered what I'd find out next about him — that he, too, had a little obsession with balcony gardening or only drank milk if it had ice in it?
I tried to force the thoughts out of my mind; this was exactly what I didn't need. This semester was all about focus — total concentration. I was going to nail it, get straight As, be top of the class. Throwing some fleeting attraction to a guy into the equation could wreck everything. Last time I fell hard for a guy, things came apart rather quickly and in an incredibly spectacular manner. There was no way I could open myself up again, not after having my heart ripped into a million shreds by Andrew. I'd been sewing those shreds back together with painstaking care for a long time, and I didn't want all that hard work to come unraveled.
So many thoughts swirled around my head as I walked home. I was fried, in part because of the incident at the lab that had ended my hectic day, so it was only by the time that I reached my apartment building that it suddenly hit me — I had left my phone in the lab.
“Shit!” I swore. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Ughhhh. How could I be so stupid!?”
Panic
hit with alternating flashes of clarity. I needed my phone, but would it even still be there? The lab wasn't locked until six o'clock in the evening and, as far as I had seen, there weren't any security cameras, which meant anyone could just walk in, pick up my new iPhone and pocket it without there being any evidence of their crime. Of course, what had me so upset wasn't that the phone itself would be stolen. It was expensive, yes, but it was an item that could be replaced. What had me upset was the idea of what was on it that was irreplaceable — especially, photos and videos of my grandfather who had passed away only a year before.
I sat down on the steps of my apartment building and put my head in my hands. It was one of those moments you can’t explain when it feels like everything that’s gone wrong in your life floods back in at once and you just want to break down. I felt defeated. It took all I had to keep myself from bursting into tears right there. Of course, I could turn around and run back to campus to see if the phone was still there or check to see if some good Samaritan had picked it up and turned it in to campus security. But in that moment, there was no way I could handle a jog back to campus.
I was moments away from a breakdown when a familiar sound stopped me — a motorcycle roaring down the street.
Emerson.
He pulled in to his usual parking spot and dismounted, running a hand through his hair after he removed his helmet. To make matters worse, he saw me and made a beeline straight for me.
Great.
He was the last person I wanted to see, but I was going to have to deal with him because I didn't have the energy to get up and make an excuse to leave.
My heart started beating faster, way faster, when I saw that he was pulling something from his pocket as he approached. My phone!
“Hey, Brooke, you left this in the lab! I saw it lying on the floor near the stool you'd been sitting on as I was leaving. Must've fallen out of your bag or something.”
Relief hit me with tsunami force. Before I could stop myself, I sprang to my feet, ran up to Emerson, and threw my arms around him. I probably held on a couple of moments longer than I should have. The warmth of his arms tightening around me, after a moment of shock on his part, made me realize what I’d done. I quickly disengaged. His gaze locked on me as I slid my arms back to my sides. There was a look of total surprise on his face. He hadn't expected that any more than I had.
We stood with gazes locked for a few tense moments. I broke the trance by reaching for my phone, but that only intensified the awkwardness when our hands touched. I swallowed hard to compose myself.
“I, umm, thank you so much, Emerson,” I finally said, calming myself. “I was so worried. I thought it was gone for sure.”
He lightened up, becoming his usual chipper self after our moment of whatever it was.
“No worries. Just looking out for a friend. Just be a bit more careful next time, huh?”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“And maybe don't rush to get out of the lab? Look, I know you're busy and focused and everything, but you need to breathe a little,” he offered with a sympathetic smile.
“I know, I know. Sometimes I feel like I'm way too stressed about school and so focused on classes and studying that I forget about everything else. And then I do stupid things…like leaving my phone in a lab.”
His laugh was warm and endearing. “Don't worry about that,” he said with a wink. “You've got me there to cover you!”
I couldn't hold back the smile that took over my cheeks. “Thanks again, Emerson.”
“Not a problem. Hey, um, I was wondering…there are a few things I'm really not too clear about in some of the reading for chemistry class tomorrow. It always helps me to talk about it with someone, kind of hash it out. Gets the neurons firing. Would you, um, would you be able to help me with some of it later?”
“Emerson, you just rescued my phone. Of course I'll help you.”
He grinned. “Awesome. I'll come over at eight then, if that's okay?”
“That's fine. See ya then.”
“See ya!” he reaffirmed, and then jogged toward his apartment as I wondered what I'd just gotten myself into.
***
“So you and Emerson are gonna be study buddies as well as lab partners, huh?” Leslie intoned, flashing me a cheeky grin. “I wonder what the next step is?”
“Come on, Les, you know there won't be a next step. And, we're not study buddies, alright? I'm just helping him out this one time. That's it. It's a once off thing. I mean, he rescued my phone. One student returning a favor to another.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
I crumpled a ball of paper from my notebook and tossed it across the room at her. She barely managed to duck and avoid it.
“That's enough from you, smartass!” I said in a tone of mock authority just as there was a knock on the door. Les checked her watch and shot me a knowing glance.
“Well, he’s either punctual or eager. I’m going to go with both! Should I let Prince Charming in with your glass slipper?”
“You will do nothing of the sort. You are banned from the kingdom for the evening.”
She giggled. “Fine. I'll go sit in my room. I gotta memorize a whole bunch of lines for tomorrow's audition, anyway. You two can have the living room to yourselves. Don't get too rowdy in here, though,” she said with a wink as she got up and went to her room.
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 i
t.”
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.”
