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“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 Ch
ris 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 seemed 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.
