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“Oh, my God. Oh. My. God.”
It was the bimbo I'd met by the dumpster. I recognized that shrill, annoying voice. She was moaning and gasping. It was muffled by the wall, but there was no doubt that it was her voice. I also heard a guy's voice grunting and groaning with both effort and pleasure.
Awesome. They're having sex. Right next to me. Emerson and that damn slut.
I was too tired to deal with it. I didn't want to even picture the slightest hint of what was happening on the other side of the wall. I got up, got Tylenol PM out of my medicine drawer, and washed it down with the last of the wine. I then plugged my headphones into my iPhone, put on some Adele, and let her voice drown out the sounds of… whatever was going on next door. Soon, I drifted off into a deep sleep, oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the wall.
Chapter Four
Emerson
“Come on, bro, smash that shot! Smash it!”
Chris' eyes were practically bulging out of his head as he urged me on. He was seriously amped. He'd hit that point, as he always seemed to do, where the caffeine-infused energy drink and the high levels of alcohol in his blood had perfectly synthesized. And when Chris hit that point, a party really got started.
Me, on the other hand… Well, I just wasn't feeling it. In fact, I hadn't been feeling it for a while. I couldn’t tell you why. Partying had kind of been my life since my senior year in high school. I’d trudge through the school week living for the weekend, and I only got more into that lifestyle once I started college. But, lately, it had lost its appeal. Partying just didn't make me feel good anymore; didn't make me feel alive the way it had in the past.
However, peer pressure is a tough thing to resist—especially when it's coming from someone like Chris who doesn't seem to understand that politely declining his invitation should mean the conversation is over. So, with Chris egging me on, I downed yet another shot of Jägermeister. I shuddered as the fiery, medicinal-tasting liquid burned its way down the back of my throat and added itself to the sloshy mix of booze already in my stomach. I was feeling more than a little nauseated.
To my right, the biting annoyance of a shrill cheer reverberated in my head. Melissa.
“Woo! Way to go, Emerson!” she shouted, her grating voice caustic in my ears.
She tried to drape an arm around my shoulder, but I slipped away from her hold, mumbling that I wasn’t feeling so great. I didn't give her the chance to complain about it; instead, I just hurried off to the bathroom as fast as I could, stepped inside, and locked the door behind me.
Once inside, I closed the toilet seat lid, sat down, and put my head in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees for support. The night was turning out to be a real shit show. The friends Melissa had brought along were even more vapid and annoying than she was—something I didn't think possible, but there they were. It seemed I was wrong.
Sitting there trying to avoid Melissa’s advances I was beginning to feel worse and worse. I wondered if it was the booze or if I was actually coming down with something. Whichever it was, the beginnings of what was sure to be a bitch of a headache started to throb behind my eyes and my throat was scratchy and raw. I hoped it was the Jägermeister. With a new semester starting in a couple of days, I couldn't afford to get sick. I really wanted to nail the upcoming semester, especially seeing as I had failed to do that in the previous few semesters—most likely because of Chris, Melissa, and the relentless partying I couldn't escape, at least not while I lived with Chris.
A knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. “Are you okay in there, Emerson? You're not throwing up or something, are you?”
Oh, God. Melissa. She was harder to get rid of than herpes. I paused before replying. I was about to say I was okay, but maybe if I said I was throwing up, she'd leave me alone. That strategy, however, could totally backfire… and I mean totally. I raced through the possible scenarios in my head, the worst being that she might insist on staying to “take care of me” while I was feeling sick, thereby setting up the exact situation she wanted—me alone with her while everyone else went out to the club.
That wasn’t a chance I was willing to take.
“I'm fine. I'm not sick,” I called out. “Just, uh, there's a lot of beer in me that's all trying to, uh, get out at once, you know? Sometimes these things can take a while if you know what I mean?”
A half-muffled giggle sounded through the door. “Alright, sexy,” she said, her voice slurred with drunkenness. “I'll be waiting for you with an ice-cold beer when you're done! Don't keep a lady waiting too long now, huh?”
“Uh, yeah. Alright.” I shook my head and sucked in a deep breath. There was no easy way out of it. I was going to have to go out there, get smashed, and hope I retained enough composure to keep Melissa away from me as much as I could for the rest of the evening.
I sat in the bathroom considering that it might be time for a change; thinking that I may need to start checking out other apartments or, more specifically, other roommates. An instant pang of guilt stabbed at me the moment the thought flew through me. Chris and I had been friends for most of our lives. He was like the brother I never had. Growing up in the suburbs with parents who both had full-time jobs and no siblings to do things with after school had made for a pretty lonely childhood. So, when Chris had moved into the house across the street from ours when I was seven years old, he had been a godsend. He and I had just clicked; we'd grown up together, been best friends. So, of course, it had been a natural progression for us to move in together when we both got into the same college.
Lately, though, I felt like we'd been outgrowing each other. Our priorities were different. We were growing up, turning into different people; people who didn’t see life the same way we once had. It wasn't that I'd been a nerd when it came to school—I certainly had not. My grades had always been sufficient, but they hadn't been nearly as good as they could have been if I'd actually put a little effort into my schoolwork. But I’d never found anything in school that really interested me. That is, until last semester when I took my first physics class. I changed my major because of that class. It had unearthed a passion I felt had been lying dormant in me for years.
Chris, on the other hand, had always loathed studying and anything academic, really. Being in college seemed to only amplify his hatred of books and learning. He was at the extreme end of the partying spectrum. I didn’t feel like I was at the other, but I was tired of the constant parties. There had to be a balance.
I suddenly thought of the new girl next door, Brooke. Maybe she was the other extreme. She didn't look at all like Melissa or any of her airhead friends. There was nothing about Brooke tha
t was textbook superficial—tanned, toned, curvy, and full only where it counted and slim everywhere else. Very artificial. Brooke was gorgeous. She had a natural beauty that was far more subtle than Melissa's. That fact alone made her more appealing in my eyes. Not only that, she seemed smart. Not just book smart, but she seemed to be genuinely intelligent, which is something that absolutely nobody could make the mistake of saying about Melissa and her friends.
But she came across as almost robotic. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever let loose like we’re expected to do as college students. So, even though the appeal was there, I found myself hardening toward her. Because, as attractive as she was, Brooke seemed cold. I'm talking ice-cold. Yes, she was smart, but I had to wonder if she had any personality whatsoever. To be honest, aside from the quick glimpse I’d gotten of her laughing at the dumpsters earlier, all I'd seen from her was an aloofness that could only be described as stuck-up. And just thinking about that kind of canceled out anything that may have been stirring inside me. Even though I wasn’t into partying like I had been, I didn’t want to be robotic. Like I said, there had to be a balance. I just needed to do less partying.
But less would be the key word. Less, not none. I mean, come on! College wasn't only about expanding your mind and working hard for a degree. It was also about expanding your social circle, trying new things, and having some fun before you got into the routine of work and having a real job and real responsibilities.
Didn't Brooke get that?
Maybe not. She was, I guessed, one of those strait-laced prudes who did nothing but study during their college years. The kind of girls who turned their noses up at guys like me, guys who actually liked to cut loose, have a bit of fun and live a little once in a while.
