Sweet Little Nothing

by Farlow, LK

  As much as I hate to admit it, he’s got me, hook, line, and sinker. “Explain.”

  “Dad wanted me to play ball. Mom wanted me to get a degree. This was a middle ground. It’s Mom’s alma mater, so Dad couldn’t say no without making her feel bad. And, technically, I’m on the team. It’s a win-win. You know, aside from the actual games. Those are definitely a loss.”

  “I guess you aren’t trying to go pro?”

  “Not even remotely. I’m working toward a communications degree.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.”

  I’m so enthralled in our conversation, I don’t even realize I haven’t touched my own food, until Gabe asks if I plan on eating it.

  I pinch off a bite and pop it into my mouth, my eyes falling shut as the flavors serenade my taste buds. Cinnamon, vanilla, and a hint of orange play a symphony in my mouth. “Oh my God.” I lick some of the cream cheese icing from my thumb, moaning softly before going back for more.

  “Sweets,” Gabe groans.

  I divert my attention from what I am now calling my crack roll to him. “Yeah?”

  He shakes his head. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

  “Excuse me? Rude.”

  “You have to know you’re a total babe, right?”

  All I can do is stare at him in utter confusion.

  Gabe sighs like he doesn’t know what to do with me.

  Well, back at ya, buddy, you’re about as easy to understand as a Rubik’s Cube.

  “Emmy, I’m gonna level with you.” He drags his eyes over me in a way that leaves me more baffled than breathless. “You’re like, fuck-hot. Tall, toned, with curves in the right places. You’ve got a pretty face and pouty lips. Great hair. You’re easily a ten.”

  My cheeks blister with what has to be third-degree burns as he basically takes stock of me like I’m a piece of cattle.

  “Gabe, I—”

  He waves away my protests and bulldozes on. “You’re innocent and sweet and pretty much every college boy’s wet dream.”

  I’m all but two seconds from bolting. This brunch is easily the weirdest I’ve ever experienced, and that’s really saying something since I broke bread with Satan himself on a weekly basis, smiling like nothing was amiss.

  “I think I should go,” I whisper, pushing my chair back from the table.

  “I’m not hitting on you, sweets. Chill.”

  “Um.”

  “Listen, you’re cute. Hot, really. But I’m currently more into dicks than chicks.”

  His confession keeps me in my seat.

  “I’m... so confused. Gabe, what is... what are you... just what?”

  He sighs. “I guess I did get a little off-topic. My point was you need to be more aware. Of yourself, of your surroundings. You’re a pretty girl, and you wear your innocence on your sleeve for all to see. There’s plenty of people ready and willing to prey on that. That’s all I was trying to say.”

  “No offense, but you went about it in a really weird way.”

  “Yeah.” Gabe slouches down in his chair and scrubs his hands over his face. “Zach laughs all the time over the fact that I’m a communications major who majorly sucks at communicating.”

  I laugh at his admission. “Is Zach your...”

  “Boyfriend? Yup. For over a year now.”

  “Do you like girls, too?” I ask, immediately wishing I could stuff the words back into my mouth.

  His green eyes twinkle as he regards me.

  “Why? You interested?”

  I cough out an unintelligible reply.

  “Kidding. But yes. I’m into the person, not what they’re packing below the belt, you know?”

  For the first time since I ran into him, Gabe looks self-conscious. “I think... that’s perfect. Brave and perfect.”

  My behemoth of a friend grins. “I knew I was going to like you, sweets.”

  We chat for a few more minutes before tossing our trash and heading out. “Let’s do this again soon, yeah?”

  I nod. “Yes, for sure.”

  It’s not until Gabe’s out of sight that I realize we never exchanged numbers.

  Oh, well. I suppose if our friendship is meant to be, it will find a way.

  The weather is mild, and I decide to use the rest of my afternoon to explore the gorgeous, sprawling campus. If anything, maybe it will help orient me by the time classes start in a few days.

  Twenty minutes into my exploration, I stumble upon a wooded walking trail. The temptation to venture down it is too great, and I find myself stepping off the sidewalk and onto the narrow, leafy path.

  The sounds of the campus fade away as those of nature wrap around me. Branches rustle as the wind whispers through them, carrying birdsong with it.

  In the distance, I can see the peaks of the mountains rising up into the sky, cementing the fact that I’m no longer in flat-as-a-pancake Texas anymore.

  Thank. God.

  If I never step foot back into that godforsaken state, it will be too soon.

  Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the actual landmass. But every bad memory I have happened there, and I just... I can’t handle the idea of returning. Escaping to eastern Georgia is my fresh start and I am going to make the most of it so I never have to return to the four walls that masquerade as a home.

  Eventually, I reach the end of the walking path and have no choice but to head back. As I approach the mouth of the trail, the hustle and bustle of the campus comes crashing back into focus.

  People are scattered about, but there’s one in particular that has me frozen, as fear and confusion tear through me, rooting me in place.

  I squint against the harsh light of the sun, hoping... praying... begging that my eyes are deceiving me.

  I’m hallucinating; I have to be. Even if the erratic thumping of my heart says otherwise.

  Because directly across the street, front and center, is the devil’s right-hand man. His piercing gray eyes are locked on me, and his lip is curled in a snarl.

  I want to run, or at the very least to look away, but my fight or flight instinct seems to be stalled, rendering me completely immobile.

  I’m a sitting duck in the face of a wolf. A hungry wolf, with very sharp teeth, if the way he’s glaring at me is any indication.

  My vision tunnels as he steps off of the sidewalk, moving toward me with a single-minded focus.

  Move, dammit! Run! I shout at myself, and yet, I may as well be a statue for how still I remain.

  He grins as he nears. It’s a feral sort of smile, one that promises pain, retribution, and punishment for my perceived crimes.

  He’s more than halfway to me when I finally unfreeze. I don’t think twice, I just run, the sound of his cruel laughter chasing behind me.

  Chapter Six

  Sterling

  I’ve seen Emmalyn a few times on campus now. She always looks so meek and mild and innocent.

  She’s convincing, too, with her eyes always on the ground and her soft, stuttered words. Hell, I was almost ready to call the whole thing off, my friendship with Rob be dammed.

  Until I remembered it’s all a ruse; I know the kind of girl she really is.

  Treacherous.

  Traitorous.

  A liar who had a serious case of buyer’s remorse.

  I wavered for a split second when I saw her venturing out of the walking trail with an unreadable expression on her face.

  At first, I misread it as fear, but I quickly saw it for what it truly was—guilt.

  The absolute unfettered guilt in her gaze when she saw me was all the confirmation I needed.

  And when she ran? I shake my head at her idiocy. Innocent people don’t run. Why would they when they have nothing to hide?

  If she thinks running away somehow absolves her of her sins...

  She’s wrong.

  A pound of flesh is owed, and I am more than happy to collect on Rob’s behalf. I’ll make her suffer ten times over for what she did to him.

&n
bsp; Emmalyn has no idea what’s in store for her. She foolishly thought she could upend my best friend’s life and then scurry away to Georgia, like a scared little mouse.

  Too bad for her, Rob somehow managed to arrange for her to end up here.

  With me. Her very own big, bad wolf.

  She’s backed into a corner now and doesn’t even know it.

  Game on, little mouse. Game on.

  Chapter Seven

  Emmy

  For the second day in a row, I bolt upright in bed, gasping for air while tears stain my cheeks.

  “It’s okay,” I console myself. “You’re okay. He’s not here.”

  I repeat the words, over and over, until the lingering wisps of my nightmare wither away and my heart rate returns to normal.

  Logically, I know that Sterling Abbot isn’t here, in Georgia. He’s back in Texas with all of the monsters, doing rich boy things. Like ruining lives and crushing dreams.

  After sprinting all the way back to my dorm, I scoured the school’s website for any mention of him. Much to my relief, my search came up blank. There’s no trace of a Sterling Abbot at Central Valley.

  For a split second, it crossed my mind that he could be a student here, but I brushed that notion aside. Surely a man like him would go to an ivy and not a small-town private college.

  Don’t get me wrong, Central Valley is still the kind of school where money talks, especially old money. It has top-notch academics and produces graduates that go on to do great things. But in the circles my family runs in, prestige is power, and I’m not sure this charming little town offers enough of it.

  It is, however, highly unfortunate that the devil’s right hand has a doppelganger here, of all places.

  Sterling was a fixture in my childhood home. He and Rob were practically bosom buddies—with their wet nurses, because God knows their mothers wouldn’t risk sagging tits. The devilish duo grew up together and, truth be told, for a long time, I used to secretly pray Sterling would come over.

  Because if he was there, then Rob was too preoccupied to mess with me.

  Sterling sleeping over was typically the only reprieve I ever got from my stepbrother sneaking into my bedroom at night.

  Not to mention, the many times he sought me out just to say hi or ask me about my day. In such a cold, frigid household steeped in hate, he was often times my only bright spot.

  As silly as it sounds, I always fancied him a knight, sent to protect me. Now I know those were childish wishes, but at the time, the notion helped me get by.

  Seeing him though—well, seeing his lookalike—sent me into a tailspin. Those darkly familiar and striking features of his stole away every bit of safety and security I’ve acquired since arriving here. Seeing him thrust me back into the hell I’ve spent the last nine months clawing my way out of.

  Hopefully, if I’m lucky, I’ll never see him again.

  Except, when am I ever lucky?

  * * *

  A quick glance at the clock tells me I still have a few hours before I need to be up. But the thought of what horrors might await me in my slumber has me swiping open the Kindle app on my phone.

  There’s nothing like a good book to steal you away from your troubles. Truly, without the escape reading provides, I may not have survived at all. When all of my friends and family turned on me, fictional characters wrapped me in their words and fit back together my mangled, barely beating heart.

  Before I know it, I’m several chapters deep, and Stella is banging on my bedroom door, shouting for me to get up. “Girl! We’re not going to have time to stop by Holy Roasters if you don’t get it in gear. I need coffee, Emmy. Need. It.”

  I swipe out of the app and check the time. Holy crap, it’s after eight!

  “I’m coming!” I fly out of my bed and throw on my favorite high-waisted leggings, stuffing my feet into my Vans. I slip a cropped neon-pink hoodie over my bralette, toss my hair in a topknot and call it good.

  “Are you ready?” Stella asks as I race past her on my way into the bathroom.

  “Nearly!” I call back, shutting the door behind me.

  I emerge five minutes later as put together as a girl can be in under ten minutes. “Ready,” I murmur, grabbing my messenger bag from the couch on our way out of the door.

  “Are you nervous?” she asks as we emerge from the building.

  “Only a lot.”

  Her answering laugh causes me to grin.

  The sun is shining. The sky is blue. I’m safe. And today is the first official day of my future. Come hell or high water, I’m determined to make the best of it.

  Surprisingly, the line at Holy Roasters is relatively short; we’re in and out in under five minutes, with our coveted caffeinated beverages in hand.

  “Let’s get lunch after?” I ask when it’s time for us to go our separate ways.

  “Duh.” Stella rolls her eyes, as if it was a given. “Let’s meet at the fountain in the quad?”

  “Perfect.”

  She heads left down the sidewalk, while I enter the building to the right.

  The hallway is packed with students and faculty alike, but I’m far too concerned with counting the room numbers to pay them any mind.

  Ever since realizing Professor Ellison is both my Psych 101 prof and my academic advisor, I’ve been determined to make a good first impression. The man has serious clout in the world of academia. He’s supposedly working on the second book of a three-book deal.

  And while I hate the dog and pony show of the society I grew up in, I know having something as small as a recommendation letter from Professor Ellison could be potentially game-changing for my academic future.

  After passing it twice, I finally find the number I’m looking for. First day jitters hit me full force as I enter the classroom.

  Psych 101 is the first step to securing my future as a victim advocate, and I’m willing to do anything, to face anything, to make this dream a reality. Even if that means stepping out of my comfort zone—i.e., sitting in a room full of strangers.

  The inside of the classroom is nothing special; it’s your basic setup, with rows of desks on either side of a central walkway. At the front of the room, there’s a podium, as well as a projector screen.

  Behind said podium is Professor Ellison himself. He’s thoroughly engrossed in something on his laptop screen, not paying any attention to the students entering the room.

  Many of the seats are already filled, but I manage to claim a desk near the center of the room. Close enough to the front to have a good view, and far enough from the back to show I’m no slacker.

  At nine on the dot, Professor Ellison strolls over to the door and closes it before returning to the podium. He stares out, his gaze moving over the room like a cool breeze.

  He clears his throat and introduces himself. “Welcome to Psych 101. I’m Professor Ellison.” His voice is the kind that commands attention. He nods to a guy in the front row. “You there, pass these out.”

  The kid scrambles out of his seat and grabs the stack of papers, handing one to each student before hurriedly returning to his desk.

  “Before you is your class syllabus. It covers everything you need to know for this class. Please take a moment to read over it. If you have any questions or concerns, please first ask my TA. If he is unable to assist, you may then email me with an appointment request to discuss it.”

  The room falls silent as we all scan over the pages. Only, I never make it past the third section, a name from my nightmares is typed neatly in bold letters that practically jump off of the page.

  Teaching Assistant/Coordinator: Sterling Abbot.

  I scrub at my eyes with the heels of my hands before blinking and reading the page again. Surely my eyes are playing tricks on me. They have to be. Because, if they’re not, that means my past—the one I’m so desperately trying to escape—is catching up with me before I’ve even had a chance to truly be free.

  But when I look down at the page again, his name is
still there, mocking me cruelly.

  My palms sweat as I clutch the sides of my desktop, debating whether or not I should flee. My breaths come in short pants while my heart hammers in my chest like someone stabbed me with a syringe of adrenaline.

  I can feel moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes; I’m about to break down crying in the middle of my first college class.

  Central Valley was supposed to be my fresh start, but it’s becoming clear this is nothing more than a long-distance prison—that the freedom was just a carrot to lure me into a trap.

  On autopilot, I begin shoving things back into my bag. I can’t... the thought of facing him is pure agony. Maybe I can get transferred to another class?

  I sling the strap of the bag around my shoulder and shoot out of my desk, ready to make my escape. I barely make it to the end of the aisle before the door swings open and Sterling waltzes in.

  He’s even more imposing up close, with his sharp jaw and hawk-like gray eyes. He’s tall and brooding, and utterly lethal.

  The sight of him, up close and personal, has me swaying on my feet. My skin somehow is pebbled with gooseflesh and sweaty at the same time.

  Instinctively, I avert my eyes from his, hoping I’ll be able to slip past him without any resistance.

  I should have known better.

  “Emmalyn Grace Price.” His voice is low, a taunt meant only for me. The sound of it sends shards of ice through me, freezing me from the inside out. “Going somewhere?”

  “Um... I, um,” is all I manage to stammer out.

  He grins, but it isn’t a kind gesture. In fact, it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, detached, and brutal. He steps closer and leans down into my space. “You thought you’d get off scot-free? That you’d run away and hide your sins?”

  I shake my head back and forth, adamantly wanting to refute him, but I can’t seem to find the words.

  “Not on my watch. You ruined him, his entire life, and now…I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to dismantle everything you’ve ever loved. I’m going to dissect you, take you apart, and scatter the pieces.”