Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (24 page)

“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?”

“Yeah, I love old movies, especially musicals.”

“Ever seen
Singin’ in the Rain?”
he asked with
a grin.

“I have to admit I have not.”

“What?! And you call yourself a fan of musicals,” he
said with a mock scoff.

I chuckled. “Hey now, I didn't say I was some kind of
expert, just that I liked them.”

“Well, you absolutely have to watch
Singin’ in the
Rain.
Seriously. It's one of the best musicals I've ever seen, period. It
is Gene Kelly at his finest.”

“Sounds like something I need to watch, then.”

“I've got a projector at my place and a killer
surround sound,” he said with a grin. “And, what is possibly the comfiest sofa
in the northern hemisphere. Not to mention, I make a mean bowl of popcorn. You
should come around sometime for a movie. It's better than going to the theater,
guaranteed.”

Class was about to start, so I leaned over to get my
books out of my bag and out of the corner of my eye saw Garrett staring at me
with that same peculiar smile on his face.

“Sounds like it could be fun,” I said. “I'll think
about it.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT

Emerson

It had been a week since I had last talked to Brooke.
I knew she was out of town on the volunteering trip she had told me about a
couple of weeks back while we were working on a lab. I also knew I’d been a
complete ass for not calling her before she left. But the truth was, I didn’t
know what to say. Knowing she had likely been the one who called the cops and
turned us in made it a bit difficult to want to face her.

I had spun it around and around it in my head,
wondering of maybe I'd been wrong. After all, there were a lot of variables and
there was always a chance I was totally off base in jumping to the assumption
that she had made the call.

I tried to justify it to myself by saying I couldn’t
get in touch with her if I didn’t have my phone. But then, I had also missed
chemistry class the day after being arrested when I probably could have gone.
And because I still couldn’t bring myself to face her, I skipped Friday’s class,
too.

I'd finally gotten my replacement phone in the mail Friday,
but by the time I was able to make it to the store to have them switch
everything over, Brooke had already left for the weekend. Not that it mattered.
I was still pissed at that point and uncertain if I even wanted to talk to her.
I hadn’t even opened the text messages she’d sent while I was at Dad’s or
listened to my voicemails.

Not having class for the next few days seemed to be in
my favor, considering the circumstances. Not only did it mean I had a stay of
execution when it came to facing Brooke, it also meant I had a few full days to
put a dent in the community service Chris and I had to pull because of the
whole getting arrested fiasco.

Somehow, Mom had managed to smooth things over a
little regarding the underage possession incident, thanks to some of her
connections. I felt kind of bad about that, almost ashamed. After all, if my
mother hadn’t had connections, I’d have been up a creek without a paddle. It
really didn’t seem all that fair in the overall scheme of things. But then
again, I didn’t turn down her help, either — help that came with stipulations.

I'd been stuck at my mom's house since the arrest.
Initially, she’d said I would have to move back home and stay there until I
graduated. I knew she had my best interest in mind, and that scenario would
likely have been great for my wallet and my grades, but it would have been hell
on my social life and my sense of independence. Luckily for me, after nearly a
week of having me back home, she calmed down some and changed her mind. Of
course, those stipulations were still in play. There was a condition to her
support in my moving back out on my own: I couldn’t move back in with Chris or
any other “boozehound roommates” as she’d put it. It was a compromise I could
easily live with.

Of course, moving out of the apartment I had with
Chris meant I would lose my half of the deposit, but Mom reminded me that
sometimes hard lessons were expensive. She also gave me the speech about being
an adult and dealing with the consequences of my actions. When I tried to
explain that I hadn’t actually even been at the apartment when everything went
down, she quickly reminded me that the alcohol had been in the apartment for
much longer than the two days I’d been gone and I was just as guilty and
responsible for it being there as Chris. As much as I hated it, she was right.
So, with a heavy heart, I had to man up.

I posted my motorcycle for sale on Craigslist. It was
the only thing I could do to get enough cash to pay the deposit and several
months’ rent for an apartment of my own on short notice. I decided I’d have to
use part of the money from selling my bike to buy an old truck to get around
in. It would suck compared to my motorcycle, but being responsible was what
growing up was all about…right?

***

“Well, that's the last of my stuff,” I announced as I
dropped the box on the living room floor by the door.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Chris asked. He looked a
little sad.

“Dude, I told you, it’s part of the deal. I don’t know
how she did it, but Mom saved our asses from some much more serious charges,
and this is the price I have to pay for it. I have to be a man and accept
responsibility for my actions, and part of accepting that responsibility is
doing this. Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving the country or anything. I’ll
just be ten minutes across town. ”

“I get you, bro, I get you. I know you're doing the
right thing, but this place won't be the same without you around.”

I put the box down and gave him a hug. “I'll catch you
later, man,” I said.

“Later, bro,” he muttered gloomily.

I picked up my box and headed out of the apartment. I
couldn't resist pausing outside Brooke's apartment. I wondered if she was in
and contemplated knocking on the door, maybe talking this whole thing over. But
instead of knocking, I stood frozen for what felt like an eternity. I agonized
over the choice in my head. I extended my hand and took a deep breath. I
couldn't let things end with so much unsaid, I just couldn't.

But, just as my fist was about to rap on the door, I
stopped, slumped my shoulders, sighed, and skulked away. I just couldn't face
her.

I trudged down the stairs feeling like it might be the
last time I'd ever be there. It wouldn't, of course. I was certain I'd come to
visit Chris, but it sure felt final. I stopped on the way down the hall when I
saw Jenkins mopping the floor. He glanced up and smiled when he saw me.

“Young Emerson! Well, how are you doin', boy? That's a
big ol' box ya got there. Is it heavy? Need a hand?”

“Nah, it's just a bunch of clothes.”

“Oh, off to get some laundry done?”

“No,” I admitted. “I'm moving out, actually.”

Jenkins looked surprised. “Movin' out? Why?”

“Remember you warned me that one of the neighbors
would call the cops if we kept on making a racket?”

“Uh-huh?”

“We kept on making a racket.”

“Ahhh. I see.”

He leaned on his mop and shook his head. “I'm sorry it
came to that,” he replied. “Guess this means the cops showed up?”

“They did.”

“You boys get busted? Have to pay a big-ass fine,
permanent record?”

“No, thankfully just got community service. I mean, we
got a record, but it'll be erased after six months if we pull our community
service and don't commit any other offenses.”

He nodded. “Lucky kids. Well, I expect you'll at least
come 'round to visit your friend Chris, won't ya?”

“I will.”

“Good, then this won't be the last I'll see of ya.”

“No, sir, it won't.”

He smiled a toothless grin. “Well then, go well, young
Emerson! I hope you've learned a lesson from all of this!”

“That I have. Take care, Jenkins. I’ll see ya around.”

I waved goodbye and walked toward the parking lot to
my mom's SUV, which I had borrowed to move all of my stuff in case it rained.
After I had packed my boxes into the car, I stopped for a while to look at the
clear, starry sky above.

Just as I was about to get into the car, a familiar
figure walked around the corner, heading for the apartment building. She was
messaging someone on her cellphone, but when she finished she peered up and
looked straight at me. She hesitated and almost stumbled, as though she wasn’t
quite sure what to do — she seemed kind of shocked.

Or maybe she seemed
guilty
.

“Uh, hi, Emerson.”

“Hey, Leslie.”

“What are you up to? Is that your car?”

“No, I'm just borrowing it.”

“Oh.”

She came across as distinctly uncomfortable talking to
me.

“So, what happened to your bike?”

“I had to sell it.”

Leslie cocked her head to the side in surprise. I
retained an emotionless, distant coolness in my expression. “Why’d ya have to
do that? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Well, after Chris and I got
arrested,
I had a
few bills to pay and needed cash pretty quick. So, I did the only thing I could
do — I sold my favorite possession.”

She looked away, the heat from her blush radiating
over her face.

“I'm…I'm sorry to hear that,” she said.

“Oh well,” I continued, “sometimes shit happens, huh?
I mean, you wouldn't think a couple of twenty-year-olds having a few beers at
their place would be such a big deal, but some people do, apparently.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“It also seems I might have to drop a couple of
classes because Chris and I have to do community service, and it looks like it
might interfere with my schedule.”

Suddenly anger flared up in Leslie's face.

“Stop trying to guilt trip me about that!” she
snapped. “If you guys cared so much about your damn grades, you wouldn't have
been doing all that partying in the first place!”

“Um…” I tried to say something, but she kept going.

“We did warn you before about the noise, yet you two
didn't give a damn. Ya’ll just carried on! Do you know on the night the cops
came, the bass was so loud that everything in my room was vibrating? I mean
vibrating to a point that things were falling off the damn table! I had three
tests that next day, three! If you two hadn't been such inconsiderate, selfish
jerks, you wouldn't be in this mess!”

“Hang on a minute there,” I interrupted her, my own
anger starting to surface. “I wasn't even there when the cops were called. I'd
been away for two days visiting my dad, who had major surgery. A procedure that
could have killed him. And then I rode my bike all day, only to get back here
and get arrested as soon as I stepped into my apartment. I told Chris, dammit,
I told him to stop making so much noise. It was him, not me.”

“Well, well… I
had to
call the cops,” she
spluttered. “There was nothing else I could do! I went and knocked on your door,
but it was so loud nobody even heard me!”

The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Hold up —
you
called the cops? You?”

She folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “Yeah.
I called 'em, and I'd do it again. Your roommate, well…
ex-
roommate
now I suppose, is a total
asshole! I will
not
hesitate to call them again if he tries that DJing
crap late at night again.”

“So, it wasn’t Brooke who called the cops?” I didn't
care about anything else she was rambling on about. The only thing running
through my mind was the fact that
Brooke hadn't called the cops.

“Umm, that’s what I said,”
Leslie retorted.

“Just…just wait,” I stammered, “was Brooke even
there
that night?”

“No. She was studying at the library. And while
she's
okay with doing that,
I
want to study in the comfort of my own home, alright? Don't think you can
justify that noise by saying, ‘Well, if Brooke can study in the library, why
can't you?'”

I grinned like a madman. “It wasn't Brooke,” I
muttered just before I broke out in laughter. “It wasn’t Brooke.” I hugged
Leslie out of impulse. “It wasn't Brooke!”

“What the hell are you talking about? Have you gone
crazy?”

I flashed a huge smile at Leslie and then ran around
the SUV to the driver’s side.

“Maybe I have,” I shouted, “maybe I have. Thank you,
Leslie!”

With that, I slammed the door shut, cranked the motor,
and sped off into the night.

This changed everything.

Everything.