Biker's Virgin

He looked at me, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure about that? You don’t look like everything’s awesome.”

“I've just, uh, I've just had a tough day, that's all.”

“Aww. Well, that’s no good,” he said with genuine sympathy. “What happened.”

For a moment, I considered telling him about the whole situation with Emerson. Part of me really wanted to talk about it with someone. However, I didn't know Garrett nearly well enough to be spilling about such personal things with him. So, in response to his question, I simply told a white lie. “Oh, just a bunch of tests. You know, plenty of work and not enough time to do it. Plus, I don't think I've been getting enough sleep lately. So, I'm just feeling a bit run-down.”

“You’ve gotta take care of yourself, ya know? You're a special person, Brooke. I mean that. I don’t like seeing down in the dumps. How about I take you for a smoothie? I know a great organic joint about a mile from here. They make a killer energy-boost smoothie, packed with all sorts of healthy junk. It'll make you feel like a new person, guaranteed.”

I was tempted to take him up on the offer. A part of me thought it would be out of spite though; a way to get back at Emerson for ignoring me. It was obvious by the tension between the two that Emerson had a subtle dislike for Garrett. Maybe even jealousy.

However, I decided against it for the time being, at least. “Thanks for the offer, Garrett, but I can't. I'm meeting up with some friends in a bit. But maybe another time, though.”

He smiled, showing a mouthful of perfectly white teeth. “No worries! Oh, hey, I saw you handing out flyers for the charity film festival the other day.”

“Yeah. It's a RAG event we're setting up.”

“Cool, cool. Listen, I wanna buy some of those tickets. You have any on you?”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

“Great. I'll take two.”

“Right now?”

“Sure.”

I dug around in my bag and retrieved two tickets. “That'll be twenty bucks.”

He handed me two ten dollar bills.

“Thanks,” I said. “Who are you gonna go with?” I asked out of instinct.

“Oh, I dunno yet,” he replied with a suggestive smile. “Maybe you know a cute brunette who might want to go,” he added with a wink.

Right on time, my phone buzzed. I looked down, hoping it was Emerson. It wasn’t. But it was the cavalry saving me from having to respond to Garrett’s question.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emerson

Sitting on a bench at the police station waiting for my mom

to bail me out was seriously one of the worst experiences of my life. Even though they didn't handcuff us, it was hard not to feel like a criminal when I was sitting next to actual criminals and waiting for our charge sheets to be drawn up. To my left were haggard-looking, drugged-up prostitutes. To my right, a pair of drug dealers with cut and bleeding swollen faces who—according to the story I’d overheard from the cops who brought them in—had been fighting in the streets over who was encroaching on whose turf. It was pretty awful. All I could do was sit with my head in my hands and pray it would all be over soon.

Mixed in with all the thoughts and emotions racing through my mind was one dominant emotion. Anger. Anger at Chris, firstly, for being such a selfish idiot and continuing to party and piss the neighbors off after I'd explicitly told him just how much trouble we could get in because of it. But I was also angry at Brooke for actually calling the cops when she knew how much trouble we would get in if they showed up at our place and found the alcohol.

I knew it might not seem right, but it was almost more understandable to forgive Chris even though it had been his fault. After all, he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box and the streak of recklessness and impulsive behavior that ran so strongly through his character made him susceptible to acts of stupidity.

Brooke, though… she wasn't like Chris at all. She was smart—incredibly smart. And compassionate. At least I thought she was up until I was shoved into the back of a police cruiser and read my rights. How could a person who seemed to be so compassionate do something so spiteful, so calculated? Something she knew would have devastating consequences for Chris and me? Especially after what had happened between us. I wondered if everything I thought I knew about Brooke was simply dead wrong. My blood began to boil just thinking about it all again, but my rage was quelled by the sight of a familiar figure walking into the room. When I saw her, my heart sank.

“Emerson.” Her tone was ice cold.

“Hi, Mom,” I murmured, unable to look her in the eye.

She didn't reply. Instead, she walked straight up to the desk and spoke to the sergeant on duty. After she signed several documents and spoke to two different officers, she turned her attention back to me with a cold fury simmering in her eyes. “Come,” was all she said.

I looked up at the sergeant, who nodded his head. It was clear he felt sorry for me. “You're free to go now, kid. So go on, get the hell outta here.”