Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brooke
The sound of a low rumble vibrated through the walls of the apartment. My first thought was that Chris had cranked up his music again which, of course, started me thinking about Emerson. I hadn't seen his bike parked out front since the Wednesday morning after he got back from visiting his dad. He still hadn't been to chemistry class nor had I seen him anywhere on campus. I tried not to let him get to me. I tried to push him out of my mind every time my thoughts wandered in his direction, but I just couldn’t seem to keep him from sneaking into my head. I'd been able to distract myself easily enough on the RAG trip, but being back in my apartment opened me up to thinking about him again.
The rumble pulsed through the apartment once more. I was about to head next door and ask Chris to turn his speakers down when a buzz on my phone snapped me out of my intentions and saved me from making an idiot of myself. Garrett’s message informed me that he was downstairs waiting for me.
I stepped out of the apartment and looked down only to find the deep rumble wasn’t coming from Chris cranking up his music next door; it was from a classic muscle car idling its engine out front. Sitting in the driver's seat was Garrett. He saw me and rolled down his window and grinned. “You coming down or what? We're gonna be late for the movies!”
“Alright, alright! I'm coming!” I hurried back inside, checked my makeup in the mirror, then grabbed my bag and locked up.
When I got to the parking lot, Garrett was standing by the pristine, vintage car, holding the passenger door open for me. I admired it before I climbed in. It looked like it had just rolled off the showroom floor. Its gleaming black paint didn't seem to have a single spot of dirt on it.
“Wow, Garrett, this is a beautiful car!”
“'67 Mustang,” he said, flashing his model perfect grin at me. “Classic American muscle. Way more personality and presence than those wannabe sports cars everyone drives these days.”
“I'll say. Jeez, I could feel the engine rumbling up in my apartment.”
“It's magic, isn't it? Man, that V8 growl gives me chills down my spine every time I crank it up.”
“My dad is a bit of a muscle car enthusiast,” I told him. “He took up rebuilding them when he couldn’t ride his motorcycles anymore. This thing has to be worth a pretty penny. It's absolutely spotless! Mind if I ask how did you managed to acquire such a machine? I mean, you’re a college junior.”
“I didn’t buy it like this, you know. My dad picked it up from a scrapheap when I was fourteen. It was dented, seized up—a real beater. So, we got it for next to nothing and worked on it for the next five years, restoring every part to original condition. And now… voila! The beauty you see before you.”
“That's impressive. How many hours of work went into it?”
He laughed. “Oh boy, I don't even wanna begin to try to add it all up! We spent many, many late nights in the garage working on this baby. But enough about my car, get in. We're gonna be late!”
“Alright,” I said, smiling as I sunk into the plush, leather front seat.
The inside of the car was as spotless as the outside. And just as Garrett had said, everything seemed completely original, except for a brand new sound system. I was staring at it when he climbed into the driver's seat.
“Yeah, I know,” he said as if reading my mind. “It looks a bit out of place, right? Brand new, twenty-first century technology in a ’60s vehicle. But I've gotta have my tunes, ya know? Although tonight, they’re gonna be your tunes.”
“How so?”
“You must have a playlist of your favorite tunes on your phone, right?”
“I do.”
“Take it out. This player will sync it up and play the music off your phone through the car's sound system.”
“Sweet!” I exclaimed.
He grinned. “Very. Go ahead, check your phone for a list of nearby devices to sync with. 'Garrett's Ride' is obviously what you're looking for.”
“Obviously.”
***
“That was a great film,” Garrett said to me as the credits started to roll.
I glanced at him in the dim light casting from the screen. For a moment, it appeared that his eyes were rimmed with tears. Personally, I had cried my heart out at the end. Seeing that it had gotten to Garrett a little stirred something in me a bit. I was a bit impressed by his apparent sensitivity, even though he did seem to be trying to play it off. I wanted to slap myself for wondering if Emerson would have been as moved.
Garrett stood up and reached his hand down to help me up from the blanket spread out on the grass. It looked like he wanted to say something, but just as his mouth opened, another voice interrupted.
“Hey, Brooke!”
I turned around to find one of my friends from RAG, Stacy, standing behind us.
“Hi, Stacy,” I responded.
“That was just an amazing film, wasn't it?” she asked.
“It really was,” I agreed. “Got me all teary-eyed.”
“Me and you both,” Stacy said with a smile. “I’m glad I ran into you. I was going to call you after this anyway. Naturally, you know about the charity bachelor auction that's happening tomorrow night. You helped with the planning.”
“Of course.”
“Well, do you think you'd be able to help me emcee it?”
“But I thought Megan was co-chairing with you and she was going to emcee?”
“You didn't hear what happened?”
“Apparently not,” I stated curiously. “What’s going on?”
“Megan was in a car wreck earlier today.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “Is she alright?”
“She's going to be alright, yes. But she has some broken ribs and one of her legs was broken in several places. She's going to need surgery on her leg. She’ll be in the hospital for at least a week.”
“Oh no, that's terrible news.”
“Yeah, it is. So, obviously, she can't co-chair the bachelor auction with me tomorrow night. So, are you free? I mean, I know it’s last minute. If you've already made plans, please don’t feel…”
“No,” I replied quickly. “It's fine, it's fine. I don't have plans for tomorrow. I'd be happy to help. I hope Megan gets better soon, though.”
“Yeah, me, too. We're gonna go visit her in hospital tomorrow before we set up for the bachelor auction if you wanna come along?”
“Absolutely, count me in.”
“Great. I’ll email you all the info you’ll need to review for tomorrow night. We'll talk more about it all at tomorrow morning's meeting. I’ve gotta get going. See you in the morning, Brooke!”
“See you then, Stacy!”
After we said our goodbyes, I turned to Garrett.
“Well, it looks like I've suddenly got a lot more on my plate than I expected to have. I’m so sorry, but I suppose you'll need to take me home now if that's alright.”
I noticed a gleam of disappointment and a hint of something else in his eyes. Whatever it was, he covered it up pretty quickly as that odd smile of his returned to his face. I couldn’t help but think he might have been a little angry over my cutting the evening short.
“Not a problem,” he said smoothly. “Whatever you'd like. I'm sorry to hear about your friend, by the way.”
“Yeah, that’s awful. Megan is such a lovely person.”
“Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” he said. “It's life, sad as it is. At least she's going to be okay. It could have been worse.”
“True,” I agreed.
“Well, let's get you home. You’ve got work to do,” he said.
The drive home was pretty relaxed. Garrett and I had a good chat, but I could tell he was turning on the charm. I had mixed feelings about that. I was still kind of up in the air over the whole Emerson issue. In fact, as much as I didn’t like it, Emerson had been running through my thoughts all evening. There was no way I should or could get into anything with Garrett, even though it was becoming fairly obvious he might want me to.
We pulled up outside my apartment building, and I unclipped my seatbelt. “Thanks so much for a wonderful evening, Garrett. I enjoyed it.”
The blue backlight from his radio lit up the smile on his face. “It really has been a great night,” he said. And then he leaned across the seat and tried to kiss me.
I pulled back and placed a hand on his chest to keep him at a bit of a safe distance. “I'm… I'm sorry, I'm not ready for this right now.”
Again, that look from earlier briefly flashed across his eyes, a look that was almost rage, but again he quickly concealed it. “I'm sorry,” he apologized. “I couldn't help it. I mean, we had such a great time together tonight, and you're just so beautiful, Brooke. I couldn't stop myself.”
“No, it's uh, it's okay,” I stammered. “Let's just take things slowly, alright? I mean, really slowly. Okay?”
He smiled. “Of course. Slow. I'll take it as slow as you'd like me to.”
“Thank you, Garrett. That means a lot.”
“Whatever you need. I guess I should bid you a goodnight, Brooke. But before I do, do you mind if I come with you to the bachelor auction tomorrow?”
“I think that can be arranged,” I said.
“Great,” he responded as he jumped out of his side of the car and rushed around to open my door. “I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow!”
“It would appear so,” I agreed.
“Well, then, goodnight, Brooke.”
“Goodnight, Garrett.”
He waited until I was opening my apartment door before he put his car in gear. I watched him roar off into the night, and an eerie sensation told me that I'd just dodged a bullet of some sort.
I made quick work of getting undressed as soon as I dropped my purse off in my room. I was on my way to the shower when my phone buzzed. I guessed it would be Garrett, sending a good night message or something of the sort, so I waited until I had taken off my makeup and had a shower before I even checked it.
It was a good thing I was sitting on my bed when I opened the message app because I probably would have lost my balance from shock if I'd been standing when I saw who it was from.
Emerson.
My pulse instantly began to race. After everything that had happened in recent days, how could it not?
I paused for a moment, trying to decide if opening the message was even the right thing to do. I wasn’t convinced he deserved even the time of day. However, I had more questions than answers and Emerson was the only place I was going to get those answers. Granted, there was a chance he was merely going to spout a pack of lies and excuses. Or not.
An array of emotions whirled through my mind as I sat staring at the little green unread message icon next to his name—fear, anger, hope, excitement, suspicion. Each one spinning in a madly-shaken cocktail.
There were only two options: delete the message without even reading it and never speak to Emerson again, or give him the benefit of the doubt and see what he had to say for himself.
It was a battle of heart versus head. In the past, I’ve always lead with my head rather than my heart. And, I knew what my head was telling me to do.
I hovered my thumb over the little red delete option and then quickly tapped it. A message appeared on the screen: Delete message. Are you sure? OK or Cancel.
My head was still in charge here. It had to be for my heart’s sake.
To my head’s surprise, my heart still had some fight left in it; it wasn't going to give up so easily. My thumb shifted toward OK but then suddenly stopped, suspended just above the screen for what felt like an eternity, paralyzed with indecision as my heart and head battled it out in a ferocious duel.
The heart won.
I pressed cancel instead and opened the text. A very long message scrolled down my phone screen.
Dear Brooke,
I know you must hate me right now. And you're totally justified in feeling that way. I admit it, I messed up. I messed up bad. But please just hear me out. I've realized there has been a gigantic misunderstanding and not getting back to you sooner might have been the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life.
I only hope it’s a mistake I can fix and not one that’s going to have permanent consequences.
Let me start by explaining why I didn't contact you during the two days I was at my dad's. My phone fell out of my pocket somewhere on the highway on my way there. I didn’t get a new phone, or any of the messages you sent, until a couple of days ago.
I'm so sorry. I wish I could've somehow gotten word to you that Monday that I’d lost my phone. I thought about you the whole ride to dad’s. And, I was missing you. Just so you know, Dad's surgery was successful, and he's going to make a full recovery. But back to you and me.
I drove back the next day fairly late after Dad’s surgery.
When I arrived & walked into my apartment, I was promptly arrested because the cops had been called on Chris for the noise and of course, they found all the alcohol.
Now here's where I really messed up.
First, I wasn’t upfront with you. I didn't tell you my mom is Dean of Faculty. It's not something I tell many people because I feel like they'll just assume I got into this college because of her or that she's doctoring my grades or something. You know how people jump to assumptions. Assumptions I really don't want people making about me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know you're not the kind of person who would’ve judged me based on who my mom is.
My second major mess up was making assumptions myself. And this was the WORST mistake I made. I assumed that you were the one who called the cops. Please let me explain why I thought that.
One day in chemistry class, I overheard you and that Garrett guy talking about the noise from my place. He recommended you call the cops on us and you seemed to agree. Then Chris said he saw Leslie leave that night, so he was sure it was you who called the cops since Leslie wasn’t home.
I’m sorry I jumped to that conclusion. I should have talked to you, but I was pretty upset about that, because of… well, because of what had been going on between us. I had grown to trust you and thought you trusted me, too. I thought maybe you cared about me as much as I do you, and then that happened. I know I was wrong to assume you called. I can't believe I was so stupid and made such an epic error in judgment.
I know you didn’t call the cops on us and--
A sound I hadn't heard for a while interrupted my reading.
Grunting, groaning, moaning. A headboard pounding against the other side of my bedroom wall.
My blood began to heat. Anger, jealousy, and the bitter feeling of betrayal began rising in me. He had some serious nerve sending me an apology message, and yet right next door, just on the other side of the wall, he was back in bed with another woman, his hands and lips all over her, his beautiful body smothering hers, his cock--
No. Just, hell no.
I put my phone down and closed the message. I wasn't going to bother with him anymore. He was showing me exactly what kind of person he really was and there was no way he was going to sweet-talk his way around that. All the proof I needed was echoing through the wall.
“Sorry, Emerson,” I said to the phone, “but you've blown your cover. I hear you loud and clear. I hear you.”