by Claire Adams
“It was your friend, Brooke, who did this, ya know,” he said flatly. “I'm sure of it.”
“Yeah. You said that last night, but what makes you so sure?”
“My room is next to hers.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can sometimes hear her through the wall, talking on Skype to whoever. It's a little muffled, but I can tell it's her voice, not her roommate Leslie's.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. So, if I can hear her through the wall, she can totally hear me. And you know how… noisy things can get in my room sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know. Trust me.”
“Well, anyway. So, yeah, I'm totally sure it must have been that bitch who called the cops. It had to have been.”
Part of me wanted to punch him for calling her any kind of name—actually, a very big part of me wanted to. I wanted to defend her. It wasn't her fault Chris was a noisy, inconsiderate ass. I knew how seriously Brooke took her studies, and if it was true the wall between her room and Chris' was so thin, well… I could understand just how much she must have been putting up with since she moved into the apartment next door. I could understand why she would have felt frustrated, even angry.
But another part of me agreed with Chris. She knew how severe the consequences would be for us if the cops showed up, and she called them anyway. Couldn't she have just come over and asked Chris to turn it down like she had before?
“Yeah,” I said. “It was a shitty thing to do. But let’s not call her names, okay?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Well, I hope you're never gonna speak to that… her again after what she's done to us,” he said sourly. “Seriously, bro. If she were a guy, I would have kicked her damn teeth in by now. She's damn lucky she's a chick or I would have gone seriously medieval on her ass.”
There wasn't much I could say in response, so I let it go.
“Wanna go out and get a beer?” Chris asked.
I couldn't help but laugh. “After all the shit that's just happened, dude?”
He flashed a cheeky grin at me. “Totally, brah.”
I shrugged. “Whatever, screw it. Let's go.”
***
“One more Jägermeister shot!” Chris slurred next to me. “C-c-come on dude, just one m-m-more!”
I raised my hand above my head and cheered. “Hell yeah! One m-more!”
The bartender brought us two shots of Jägermeister, which we knocked back immediately. I felt bile rising in the back of my throat and my vision was definitely starting to swim. One more drink would have pushed me over the edge. As it was, I'd already have to sneak in to my mom’s house and get to my room without her seeing me. If she’d known I'd gone out and gotten drunk… Well, I didn't even want to imagine what sort of consequences I'd have to deal with.
I was about to stand up to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder—a soft, feminine hand. I turned around. “Melissa.”
“Hi, Emerson. Long time no see!”
“Uh, yeah, it's been a while. How have you been?” I slurred.
She smiled flirtatiously. “Oh, I've been good. But I can't deny I've been missing a certain someone.”
“Oh yeah, is that right?”
“It is.” She ran her fingers along my forearm. “You're looking especially yummy, Emerson. Been hitting the gym more than usual?”
I laughed, probably a little too awkwardly. “No.”
She stared into my eyes, still smiling with her perfect, white teeth and full lips. “Well, like I said, you're looking extremely sexy.” Her fingers were tracing invisible patterns across my skin. She started to move in closer to me. “You know,” she continued, “my roommates are away on a trip tonight. I'm all alone at my place, and I'm feeling so lonely and bored. Why don't you come over and have a few more drinks with me? I've got some tequila just begging to be drunk.”
I almost said yes. Almost. But, as angry as I was at Brooke, part of me still believed she was the person I'd fallen for, and that, somehow, the thing with the cops all had to be some giant mistake. Besides, after being with Brooke, Melissa didn’t get my blood pumping even a little bit.
I gently removed Melissa's fingers from my arm and set her hand down on the bar. “Sorry, Melissa, I've already had too much to drink tonight. I'm actually feeling kinda s-sick. Seriously. If I even smell another beer, I'm gonna throw up.”
“Well, we don't have to drink, Emerson, we can go back and do… other things.”
I stood from my barstool. “Melissa, I'm gonna have to say no. Sorry. I can't, I just can't. See you round.”
With her eyes locked on me and boring holes into the back of my skull every step of the way, I stumbled out of the bar onto the damp, windy street where I held onto a street lamp, waiting in silence for a passing cab to stop.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brooke
Four days. That’s how long it had been since Emerson and I had been together that night. That’s also how long it had been since I’d heard from him. It was Thursday and still not a word. The longer the silence lasted, the angrier I became—both with him for acting like he was, and with myself for being an idiot and buying his bullshit. How could I have been so stupid and let my feelings override logic? I had been naïve letting my guard down and allowing him to get close enough to do this to me. I should have known better. I really should have known better.
I was sitting on the living room sofa going over some notes for chemistry class—which Emerson had been noticeably absent from again—when Leslie walked in looking a little more on the weary side than usual.
“Hey, Bee,” she said in a tired voice.
“Hey, Les.”
“How's everything?”
“Ah, you know, study, study, study,” I announced. For a moment, I contemplated telling her the whole situation with Emerson, but she didn't look like she was up for a long conversation. Besides, I didn't know if I was up for one. And after four days, I knew she was going to give me hell for not telling her sooner, which only made me dread it more.
“Yeah, me, too,” she replied. “And, I’m exhausted. At least, I've been able to sleep well enough the past two nights.”
I cocked my head to the side. Leslie was usually a sound sleeper. I began to wonder what had previously been causing her to lose sleep. “Umm. Why weren’t you sleeping? What was wrong before?”
“Huh? You didn't notice? Oh, right, you've been at the library until late these past couple of nights.”
“Yeah, I've got those three big essays due. It's just easier to write them where all of the reference books and journals are. Plus, there are no distractions like there are here. I’m just glad the library stays open until eleven a few nights a week.”
“Well, those jerks next door kept me up again on Tuesday night playing DJ and blasting their music at full volume. It was so loud that everything in my room was vibrating. I beat on the wall, but that didn’t do any good. I even tried to be nice and tell the crazy chick in the hall that they needed to keep it down. It didn’t work and I couldn't take it, so I called the cops. That shut them up.”
My mouth dropped open. “You did what?!”
“Like I said, I called the cops. I’d given those jerks enough warnings, and they didn't seem to matter, so I just did what I had to do.”
“But you know there's a ton of alcohol in their place, right? I mean… they might have gotten into a lot of trouble, Les.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “So? They knew the risk they were taking. They insisted on carrying on with the noise as if that place was a damn club or something. I'm sorry, Brooke, but sometimes people like that only learn one way—the hard way. It had to be done.”
“So what happened?”
“The cops showed up and shut the party down. That's all I know. I fell asleep a few minutes after the noise stopped.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Well, whatever. They've been quiet ever since, haven't they?”
“I guess
they have.”
“Well, BeeBee, I'm exhausted. Time for bed. I'll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, good night.”
“Night.”
Leslie walked out leaving me shocked, confused, and curious. I wondered if all of that had happened before or after Emerson got back from visiting his dad. Not that I’d have known, considering he’d been ignoring me since he left on Monday morning. What if Emerson and Chris had been arrested? Maybe that had been why he hadn't called me or had any contact.
That didn’t add up, though, when I thought about the times I'd called and messaged Emerson on Monday. That had been a full night and day before Leslie called the cops on them, and he hadn't replied to anything.
My phone buzzed just as I was considering sending Emerson another text about chemistry class and the lab we needed to make up. It wasn’t Emerson texting me, though. It was Garrett. I'd given him my number in chemistry class the day before after he asked if it would be possible to get my help with some of the concepts he was having a hard time grasping. So, I expected questions about chemistry class. What I got, instead, were photos. I opened them, and my eyes widened with surprise.
The message above the pics read: Your buddy Emerson happens to be pretty close to the dean of our faculty! Saw 'em outside the supermarket.
The photos were of Emerson hugging the Dean and getting into her car. One picture was clear and sharp. I had to admit, the woman looked familiar, but I hadn’t really dealt with anyone in the faculty who wasn’t one of my professors. I immediately opened a browser window on my laptop and went to the school’s website. A few clicks later, I was reading all about the woman in the photos. I enlarged her staff photo and studied her. That’s when it hit me. The Dean of Faculty was Emerson’s mother!
She had to be. Emerson had her eyes and a number of other similar facial features. I was a little blown away. We talked about his parents a few times before and, while he told me a lot about his father, he had been pretty vague about his mother, even when I asked straight up questions about her. I knew from our conversations that she and his dad divorced when he was ten years old, that she still lived nearby, and that he saw her fairly often.
Why the hell hadn't he told me that she was the freaking Dean of our college?!
That was a pretty big deal. Seriously. I couldn’t wrap my mind around why he would deliberately lie to me about it. Whatever his reason, all this did was add more fuel to the fire that had been blazing for four days—a fire that was burning anything I thought we might have to the ground.
I wasn’t up for discussing anything about Emerson with anyone, so I put an end to it before it started by sending a rather benign message to Garrett telling him the dean was Emerson’s mother, and then I turned my phone off. I skulked off to my room, crawled into bed, and curled up under the blankets. Somehow, through the swirling emotions, sleep managed to find me quickly.
***
Emerson didn't show up for chemistry class—again. We were supposed to do a practical together. After class, I spoke to the professor about it and she said she'd try to get in touch with him. She suggested that, in the meantime, I could partner with Garrett since he'd joined the class late and was acting as third wheel to another pair of lab partners.
Maybe Emerson's “dedication” to chemistry class had all been part of his charade, too. Just another elaborate ruse he set up for the sole purpose of getting me into bed. It seemed that since his mission had been accomplished, he didn't care anymore.
“Well done, Emerson. You succeeded there. I hope you're proud of yourself,” I muttered to myself as I left the lecture hall and shot Garrett a text telling him what the professor suggested and giving him a time to meet at the lab.
***
Garrett showed up to the lab early, looking a little more chipper than usual.
“Well, hey there, gorgeous,” he said playfully.
“Come off it, Garrett. We're here to work,” I said, although I couldn't deny there was a subtle smile on my lips. He had a way of making me chuckle. It didn’t hurt that he was pretty good looking, too.
“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, isn't that what they say?” he responded.
“They do, but there's a time for work and a time for play, and now's not the time for play.”
“Alright, alright,” he conceded.
We got the experiment set up. Garrett worked quickly and efficiently and with great focus. I was impressed. We finished in record time and cleaned everything up just as efficiently.
As I was packing the last of the equipment away, he sidled up to me. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“You're not seeing anyone right now, are you?”
I tried not to stop what I was doing abruptly, but his question caught me off guard. How was I supposed to respond considering the mess going on with Emerson and the scars left over from Andrew? Sure, Garrett seemed like a really nice guy, and let’s not forget that good-looking aspect, but there was no way I was going to get into anything at the moment. I had too many unresolved emotions. Still, it wouldn't be been right to lie to him either. “No, I'm not—but I'm not looking to, either. Things are… complicated. And I'm way too busy for anything like that.”
“Oh, no, no, I wasn't trying to suggest anything,” he said hurriedly.
“Oh. Alright.”
“I was just asking,” he said with a warm smile. “Because if you had a boyfriend, I wouldn't want him to get upset about you hanging out with guy friends, like me. I know some guys get super jealous about any guy their girlfriend is hanging out with, even nice, harmless gentlemen like me.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, feeling as if I had totally overreacted to his question. “No, no need to worry about that. There's no man in my life to cause any trouble if we want to hang out as friends.”
“Yeah,” he said with a big smile. “Friends. So, remember I bought those tickets from you for the film festival? Well, my buddy who was gonna go with me bailed. And that's next weekend, right?”
“Yeah, next weekend.”
“Right, so that means I've got this spare ticket.”
“Uh-huh.” I could already see where he was going.
“And was wondering if you wanted to go with me? Just as friends, of course.”
“As friends, huh?”
“Totally as friends.” He flashed me another one of those smiles.
It seemed innocent enough, but I had to wonder if there was more to it. I gave him the benefit of a doubt. “Alright,” I said. “Sounds good.”
“Excellent. So, next weekend then, after your RAG trip. You are going on that RAG trip, right?”
The RAG group had organized a four-day trip for the coming week since there would be a long weekend because of a holiday. We would be visiting some underprivileged communities in the surrounding areas to help set up organic gardens so they could grow their own food.
“Yeah, I am,” I replied. “How'd you know about that?”
“Oh, I just overheard some people talking about it.”55555555555
“Yeah, I'm pretty excited about it, actually. We're leaving tomorrow morning.”
“Awesome. I'm sure you guys will do a lot of good work.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Cool. Well, I'll see you next week when you're back. Enjoy the trip!”
“I will! See you then.”
He waved goodbye and then walked out of the lab, still wearing that strange smile on his face.
***
I returned from my RAG trip feeling pretty good—exhausted, but good. I'd stayed so busy during the trip that I hadn't really had much time to do anything other than work hard and sleep. We had risen early every morning and gone to bed late every night. I'd been dead tired by the end of each day, so there hadn't been any time to sit and stew over Emerson—who still hadn't called me or even texted. But in some ways, that was good for me. I returned feeling a renewed sense of focus, and my first class after th
e break was chemistry. That meant seeing Garrett.
“Hey,” he said with a warm smile when I sat down next to him. “How was your trip?”
“It was great!” I responded, happy to have someone enthusiastic to talk to about it.
“Awesome! I bet you helped a lot of people.”
“I sure hope we did. I learned so much, too. It was a rather empowering experience, overall. I'm so glad I did it.”
“You'll have to tell me all about it sometime. Say, is it too late in the semester to join RAG?”
“You want to join RAG?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. I've volunteered in the past. I've just been too busy recently that it’s been on the back burner, but, you know, it's something that's part of you, right? An intrinsic slice of who you are as a person. I don’t know; sometimes I think I have some sort of weird addiction to helping others.”
I smiled. “There are worse things to be hooked on.”
“True. If I had to choose between being hooked on crack and hooked on charity, I know which one I'd pick!”
I laughed, and he chuckled along with me.
“So, you are still interested in coming to the film festival with me, right?”
“Yes, I am. I didn't forget.”
“Excellent,” he flashed me that smile of his that I still wasn’t sure how to take. I admit it made me question what was going on behind it. “There are a couple of films all showing at the same time, right?” he asked. “We have to pick one out and then just watch that one?”
“Yep. There will be a few different screens set up.”
“Alright, so is there any film in particular that you want to watch? I'm alright with any of them. They all seem pretty decent.”
“Hmm,” I said, giving it some thought. “There's a student remake of an old Hepburn film that I’d really like to see on the big screen.”
“No way,” he said. “You're into classic movies?”
