Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (4 page)

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 trudged through
the school weeks living for the weekend, and I'd only gotten more into it once
I started college. But, lately, it had lost its appeal. Partying just didn't
make me feel good, 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 of 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. Then again, 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 like 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’d taken my first physics class. I changed my major because of
that class. It had unearthed a passion I had 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 that
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 that 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.

I shook my head.

It was ridiculous to think there was even a
possibility there might be something between her and I. We were just too
different. Regardless of any attraction that might have existed between us, it
wasn’t enough.

I stood from my seat in the bathroom, pushing all
thoughts of Brooke out of my head. After I washed my face with a little cold
water, I wandered back to join everyone laughing and drinking. I grabbed
another beer from the fridge, popped the top off, and took a deep swig of the
crisp liquid. The night was really getting started so I figured, screw it —
might as well go along with it and enjoy the ride.

***

“One more shot, E, one more! C'mon, bro, you can do
it!”

My knees started to buckle beneath me. I was wasted.
My vision was definitely getting more than a little blurry around the edges,
too. Still, I wasn't about to let Chris stay ahead of me in the shots race. I
was three behind and I needed to catch up. Melissa was hanging all over me again,
only at that point I was too drunk to care. I picked up the shot glass filled
to the brim with Jägermeister, stared at it for a while with a goofy grin
pasted across my face, and then opened my mouth and chucked the shot in,
sucking it down immediately.

As soon as the booze vanished down my throat, I felt
bile rising up in reaction. I gritted my teeth and forced the bitter liquid
back down. I wasn't about to puke and ruin the evening.

“Alright, bro, ladies, are y'all ready to hit the
club?!” Chris shouted, his deep-toned voice drowning out the pumping tune
ripping through our speakers.

“Woo!” the girls shrilled.

I heard the strange sound of my own voice, raspy and
harsh, joining the chorus of approval coming from Melissa and her friends.

“Yeah! Let's do it, then!” bellowed Chris. “An Uber
driver is on the way; c'mon, yo, downstairs, downstairs!”

Melissa hooked her arm through mine as we stumbled out
of the apartment, but I didn't really care. As wasted as I was, I knew nothing
was gonna happen between us. I was determined, even in this state, not to
let
anything happen. At least she was as drunk as I was, and I knew she couldn't
hold her liquor too well. The way I had it figured, after another drink or two,
she'd just pass out anyway, and then I wouldn't have to worry about her. I still
felt kind of queasy, but I also felt amped to dance; the energy drink I'd
slammed twenty minutes earlier had boosted a hefty dose of caffeine into my
veins.

As we were stumbling past Brooke's apartment, I
couldn't help but pause and listen for a moment. I thought I heard something I
recognized — the opening theme for
Game of Thrones
, my favorite TV show.

I couldn't help wondering who was watching it — Leslie
or Brooke?

Did Brooke actually have more of a personality than
study nerd? Was it possible that we actually had more in common than we thought
we did? I didn't know anyone besides myself who was crazy interested in
Game
of Thrones
as I was. Hell, I'd even read the books – and I'm not really one
for reading books.

I didn't have too much time to think about it because
I soon felt an impatient tugging on my arm.

“Emerson,” whined Melissa, “come on! What are you
doing just standing there? You look like you’re in a different place.”

“Um, I just, uh, I just thought I heard something I
recognized.”

She paused and listened.

“Oh yeah, I've heard that song before. That's that
show about demon hunters, right?”

“What?” I shook my head.

“It's uh, I've heard it… Wait, wait, don't tell me.”

“You don't know this.”

“I do! Just give me a second to try remember.”

I waited, rolling my eyes as she wracked her brain
trying to place the song.

“What's that called again? Vampire something. No…
Supernatural
?”

I shook my head and sighed.

“
Game of Thrones
, Mel,
Game of Thrones
.”

She grimaced with distaste.

“Oh my God, yeah. The one with swords and medieval
shit. God, what a
dorky
show! Who watches that crap? Ugh, it's like so…
complicated.
And you've
got
to
be
some sorta uber-nerd to go for boring, lame-ass stuff like that. I mean,
seriously,
 
dragons and swords and like
old-days boringness? Puh-lease. Your new neighbors must be
total
losers!”
she laughed.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head again.

“Yeah. They’re the losers, all right. Come on. Driver
is here.”

CHAPTER
FIVE

Brooke

Hangovers. The exact reason I rarely drink hard
liquor. I woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a bit of a headache…and
that was from drinking wine. I’m such a lightweight. I really should have had a
tall glass of water before hitting the sack after all the wine I drank.

The sun was already peeking through the cracks between
my curtains. And based on the angle of the shadows, it was already getting fairly
high in the sky. That meant it was way past my usual wake up time.

“Ugh, wine…I love you, so why do you do this to me,” I
muttered as I pulled a pillow over my face. “Can't live with you, can't live without
you. Sheesh, it's almost like we're married.” I tossed the pillow aside and
pushed myself up to sit on the edge of my bed. It took me a moment to get
motivated. I stood and stretched my arms and legs, glancing around my new
bedroom. There were still a few things I wanted to do, like hang pictures and
paint one wall to give the room a splash of color, but all in all, it felt as
much like home as any place could after one night.

I picked up the empty wine glass from next to my bed and
was just about to head to the kitchen to whip up a hearty breakfast. Food
always seemed to help when I had a mild hangover and I was in dire need of some
energy to get me through everything I needed to accomplish before classes began
Monday morning.

First, I ambled over to the curtains and threw them
open, basking for a few moments in the warm sunshine that flooded through the
window. I even slid a window open and just listened to the sounds of the birds.
It was a lovely morning and the view from the window in my bedroom was nicer
than I had expected considering we were in an apartment complex. Thankfully, we
had an end unit that faced a park. Right outside my window grew a tall,
sprawling oak tree that seemed to be full of birds, judging from all singing
and tittering of their morning song. It was a beautiful moment until…

I heard it. Again.

The heavily-muffled, but nonetheless audible, sound of
voices — a guy’s and a girl's — grunting, groaning, gasping, and moaning while
what I assumed was the bed thumped against the wall between our rooms at an
accelerating, intensifying pace.

“Oh. My. God.
Seriously
?!”

I hurried out of my room, dropped the wine glass off at
the kitchen sink, and then rushed over to Leslie's room where I knocked on the
door.

“Hey, Les, you up?”

“Yeah, girl, gimme a sec, I'm just getting changed.”

Leslie opened the door a few minutes later, looking
refreshed and sprightly.

“Morning, Brooke!” she said with an ear-to-ear grin.
“I slept
so
well last night! I feel like a million bucks! How about you,
did you get a good night's sleep?”

“I did, kinda. Although I think I had a bit too much
wine last night after you went to sleep.”

“Oh yeah? How much more did you have?”

“Umm. I finished a bottle.”

Leslie threw her head back and laughed. “Wait. Are you
serious? Wow, you might need to tone it down a bit, you little alcoholic, you!”

I blushed. “Alright,
Mom,
” I said. “I'll try to
be a good girl from now on, okay?”

We both chuckled, but then I got back to my original
reason for knocking on her door.

“Okay, enough about my wine addiction. There's a
little bit of a problem. It's my room.”

She raised an eyebrow. “For real? What's wrong?”

“Come on, I'll show you.”

We walked over to my room and stepped inside. Leslie
started looking around with a slightly confused look on her face.

“What's wrong, Brooke? Everything looks fine to me.
Please,
please
don't say that this place is haunted or something...”

“No. Well, depends on how you look at it,” I said.
“Just keep quiet for a minute and listen.”

We both stood in silence and I hoped I hadn’t waited
too long. Sure enough, the sounds of what was happening on the other side of
the wall started to echo through. They weren’t as loud and clear as before, but
they were audible enough to be easily recognized. Leslie's eyes widened as she
covered her suddenly-gaping mouth with one hand.

“Oh my
God,
Brooke! Are they… Surely they
aren’t…
You know!
”

I folded my arms across my chest and nodded. “Oh yeah.
They are.”

“Oh my God, it sounds like a porno.”

“Yep. Right next to my bed. Literally a foot or two
away. Nothing but this feeble excuse for a wall separating what's going on in
that room from us.”

She scrunched her face in disgust. “Eww! I mean…just…ewwww!”

Then we both paused, kept silent, and listened again.
It seemed like it wasn't going to end any time soon. We shot each other an
uncomfortable glance and then both burst out laughing. It was the only way we
really knew how to deal with the weird, awkward ridiculousness of the moment.

“Good Lord, Brooke, did you hear this last night, too?”

“Yep. I had to use my earphones just to be able to
fall asleep.”

She shook her head, her mouth still hung half-open
with an expression of disbelief and more than a little amusement.

“Do you think it's Emerson?” she asked.

A rush of something flashed through me again. I didn’t
want it to. There was no reason for it, but the thought of him tangled with that
awful bimbo doing ungodly things, his gorgeous eyes focused on
her,
on
her
of all people made me want to punch something.

“I don't know,” I sputtered a little too quickly and
harshly.

I blushed as Leslie shot me a knowing gaze, smiling
subtly at my reaction.

“Or…maybe it's Chris,” she said slowly, still staring
at me to gauge my response. She knew me too well for my own good sometimes.

“Um, yeah,” I replied, blushing furiously. “Yeah, ho-,
who knows, maybe it's Chris.”

Jeez, I couldn’t believe I almost said, “
hopefully
it's
Chris.”
Hopefully? Seriously? Why should
I even care if that self-absorbed idiot jock, Emerson, was getting down and
dirty with his skanky, plastic girlfriend?
It wasn't any of my business.

Although, the sound of it coming through the walls
into my place
did
kind of make it my business. Leslie stared at the wall
with her hands on her hips, listening to the still-intensifying sound.

“We brought that softball bat from your parent’s place,
right?” she asked.

“Um, yeah, but-”

“I'm gonna beat on the damn wall with it, let those
two fools on the other side know we don't appreciate being the audience for
their little porno flick.”

“No, no, come on, Les, you can't do that! That'll make
it… Jeez, I dunno. It'll just make the whole thing even weirder and
more
awkward than it already is! We have
to pass these people in the hall, ya know.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have the right to just…
do
that
and make us feel uncomfortable in our own house!”

“I know, I know, but just… I dunno, just don't do
that.
”

“Well, what are we gonna do about it?”

I stood for a while, contemplating the issue.

“Let's just go fix breakfast and forget about it,” I suggested.

“No way! Come on, Bee! That's such a defeatist
attitude. We can't just let them get away with this.”

“Maybe it's a once-off thing. I mean, we heard how
trashed they all got last night at their party. Maybe this is just something
that happens once in a while, you know?”

The determination in her eyes to grab the bat resting
in the corner behind my door and smack the wall a few times with it faded a
little. I could see that she was weighing the pros and cons of what I'd said,
so I added a little more insight to help calm her down.

“It's not a great idea to start off on the wrong foot
with new neighbors when you've just moved into a new place,” I expressed,
hoping my words would help sway her opinion and defuse the situation.
“Seriously, we wanna have a good relationship with everyone else in the
building. You don't wanna be known as 'that mean-tempered bitch from 13A' now,
do you?”

The frown on her face morphed into a smile.

“I’ve been called worse.”

I cocked my head to one side and glared at her with a motherly
expression.

“Alright, alright,” she said. “We can let it slide this
time. I guess.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“But!” she added, holding up a stern finger of
warning, “if I hear that crap again, I am gonna reach for the softball bat and
give that wall a big ol' bitch slap or two! I don't want those two meatheads
next door thinking they can make forcing their…their…
porn noises
into
our home a regularly scheduled event.”

We both chuckled as we turned around and walked out of
my room. I closed the door behind me as we left in an effort to prevent the
muffled sounds from following us into the living room.

“So, what do you think about Chris
now?”
I
said, jabbing her playfully in the ribs.

She shot me a shit-eating grin. “Probably something
similar to what
you
think about Emerson. After all, we don't know which
one of the two is the stud behind that wall, now, do we?”

I felt another wave of heat rippling along the surface
of my skin.

“True, we don't know,” I replied somewhat coolly. “And,
it’s probably best that we don’t know; let's just forget about it, alright?”

“Alright. Come on, there’s bacon and eggs in the
fridge with our names all over them. And I picked up some frozen blueberries
yesterday, too. A nice blueberry smoothie is just the right way to start off a
Saturday while we cook breakfast. What do ya think?”

I smiled, still trying to force the unwanted thoughts
of Emerson and his bimbo girlfriend out of my mind.

“Sounds like a plan.”

***

The sun was starting to hang low in the sky when I
noticed my head was beginning to hurt a little. I'd been reading through the
first few chapters of my physics textbook for a while. A glance at the clock
made me realize I’d been at it for nearly two hours. I took my reading glasses
off, applied pressure to my temples for a few moments, and then stood up from
the desk and stretched. My lower back was stiff from sitting in the desk chair
too long. What I needed was a little exercise, but I hadn’t had the time to
unpack my running shoes. I did feel like getting some fresh air and sunshine
while the daylight lasted, though.

I walked through to the living room where Leslie was
curled up on the sofa with a steaming hot mug of coffee, watching a documentary
on The History Channel about ancient Egypt.

“Brushing up for the new semester, too?” I asked.

“Yeah, I thought seeing as I've got a minor in world
history, getting in some History Channel might not be a bad thing.”

I nodded. “I'm heading out for a walk. I might stop by
the supermarket down the block while I'm out; you need anything?”

“Umm, I guess we just need some milk. Though, chocolate
chip cookies would be nice, too. And, what are we gonna have for dinner?”

I laughed at her ongoing list. “I was thinking pasta
with some veggies, something nice and healthy. Especially if you’re going to
force me to eat cookies.”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that. Let's do it.”

“The cookies or the dinner?” I joked.

“Both!”

“Okay, I'll pick up some veggies, too, then.”

“Enjoy the walk. Looks like it's a beautiful afternoon
to be out.”

“Yeah, if I get back early enough maybe we should take
the bikes out for a ride? Head to the park or something?”

“Sure thing. Be careful.”

“Will do. See ya in a bit.”

I walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind
me and humming an Adele tune. Just as I reached the front walkway of the
apartment block, I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.

As much as I would have liked to say otherwise, my
heart started beating a little faster knowing that Emerson was just a matter of
feet away on his bike. I hesitated at the edge of the breezeway that ran along
the front of the apartments, peering at the street through the shrubs. I felt a
little nervous and awkward about seeing him, especially after yesterday with
that bimbo, and of course, after the sounds I'd heard coming through the walls.

I saw him straddling his bike which he had just
started up. And there, climbing onto the back, dressed in a skin-tight,
massively-revealing outfit, was that Melissa girl. I immediately stepped back
behind the door, feeling my heart thumping in my chest.

“Come on,” I whispered to myself. “You're being
totally irrational! You don't even like the guy! Why are you getting all
jealous about him and his skanky girlfriend? Just walk out, say a polite hello,
and keep on walking. Seriously! Why are you hiding like a confused
adolescent?!”