Sweet Little Nothing

by Farlow, LK

  Tugging on the ends of my hair, I groan. As excited as I am to have true, genuine friends, the thought of telling them what a monumental idiot I am has me wishing a hole would open in the floor and swallow me, if only to spare me my humiliation.

  “Look,” Zach says, laying his head back onto Gabe’s thigh. “We aren’t gonna judge you. We aren’t gonna think differently of you. No matter what you say, we’ll still have your back. Okay?”

  Gabe and Stella nod their agreement.

  “He.. he kissed me,” I mumble. My shoulders instantly sag without the burden of my secret weighing them down.

  “What?” Stella shouts, right as Gabe commands me to explain.

  I open my mouth to speak, to try and explain myself. But it’s no use. All I manage to do is look like a goldfish gasping for air; how can I even begin to explain what happened in that small office?

  “He kissed me,” I say again, when nothing better comes to mind.

  “Yeah, you mentioned that.” Stella pins me with a look. “I’m trying to figure out how you ended up locking lips when you left the cafeteria with stabby-stabby-murder-murder in your eyes.”

  I throw my hands up in the universal hell if I know gesture. “I don’t know. We were fighting and then, the next thing I know, we were kissing.”

  “Who kissed who?” Gabe asks, sounding a little too interested for my liking.

  “Um.” I replay the entire sordid ordeal, desperately trying to seek out who was the instigator. “He kissed me. I think. Maybe.”

  “Emmy!” Stella shrieks my name, bouncing wildly beside me.

  “I know.” I drop my head into my hands and sigh. “It’s horrible.”

  Truly, it is. Only, I’m not sure which is worse: the fact that we kissed or the fact that I liked it.

  “No!” Stella exclaims, pulling my hands away from my face. “It’s amazing!”

  “What?” Zach and I ask in tandem. At least someone else sees this for what it is—a freaking disaster.

  She looks to Gabe for support, but he shakes his head. “I need to hear your reasoning before I can decide if you’re insanely smart or just insane.”

  Stella looks at all three of us like we’re as dense as bricks. “Use this to your advantage, babe.”

  I stare at her blankly. “What?”

  Gabe slowly nods his head. “No, she has a point. He’s obviously attracted to you. Use your feminine wiles to make him be nice.”

  “I don’t know,” Zach murmurs, giving voice to my own thoughts. “Emmy might not be ready for this kind of game.”

  “That—that’s just not me. Not to mention, he probably only kissed me to mess with me. For all I know, it was some power play, just to reinforce how stupid I am.”

  “No. No way.” Gabe leans forward, locking his eyes onto mine. “Remember the second time we met?”

  “Um, yeah...” How could I forget? “Why?”

  “When you slammed into me outside of your classroom, he was lingering in the doorway, watching us.”

  “You mean that dude we saw outside of her building?” Zach asks.

  “Yeah, him.”

  “Oh, he’s definitely into you.” Zach chuckles. “He was stalking your ass like he was a lion and you were a gazelle.”

  “What? No...”

  “Yeah.” Gabe nods vigorously. “Swear it. He glared at me so hard when you left with me... let’s just say I’m glad looks can’t actually kill.”

  “Truth. After you went inside, Gabe made us walk all the way around the backside of the campus to avoid him. Dude looked like he had a bone to pick.”

  My brain can’t seem to process this new information. Surely there’s a logical reason for his strange behavior.

  “Maybe it’s not about Rob,” Stella says, her eyes immediately flaring wide with regret. “Oh my God! Emmy, I’m sorry.”

  I squeeze her hand. “It’s okay. They know about Rob.”

  “Okay.” She eyes me speculatively. “Well, then yeah. Maybe it’s not a Rob thing, but like a, jealous-school-boy-play-yard thing?”

  “I highly doubt it.” I look to Gabe and Zach for support, but they both shrug.

  “I was a total ass to Gabe when we first met.” Zach looks up at his boyfriend lovingly.

  “Yeah, but only because you were still in the closet. You didn’t want to admit that my fine-ass-self got your dick hard, so you acted like a macho asshole.”

  Stella gasps. “Maybe Sterling’s in the closet over how he feels about you!”

  “Not what that means,” I tell her gently.

  She rolls her eyes. “I know. I just meant, maybe he’s always had feelings for you, but has been in denial.”

  “He hardly noticed me growing up.”

  “But—”

  I cut her off. “I love you, Stella, but he’s not interested in me. He doesn’t have a crush. And I can almost guarantee he kissed me with ulterior motives.”

  I think. Right? Yeah, I have to be right. Don’t I?

  Indecision turns my stomach.

  Thankfully, Stella doesn’t keep pushing. At least not about that. “You at least have to tell us, was he a good kisser at least?”

  “The best,” I say, flopping back on the couch in disgust.

  * * *

  “Seriously, how is it already Thursday?” Stella asks as the coffee pot gurgles to life on the counter behind her.

  “Ugh,” I groan. “Don’t even get me started.” I’m honestly half tempted to skip class today to avoid Sterling for a little bit longer. But, after the quiz disaster from Tuesday and my unfortunate project pairing, I’m already going to have to bust my ass in that class just to keep my head above water.

  Like the heaven-sent angel she is, Stella passes me a mug of coffee. “You gonna be okay?“

  “Define okay.” I take a long sip, letting the caffeine wind its way through me, warming me and waking me from the inside out.

  “Let’s set the bar low. Okay, as in you won’t shove your pen through his eyeball?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Then yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Atta girl!” Stella clicks her tongue at me. “Now, let’s go.”

  We walk together, chatting aimlessly until we have to go our separate ways. Which, naturally, is when my nerves really set in.

  Will he be the same asshole as usual or was our clandestine kiss some type of fucked-up olive branch?

  Only one way to find out.

  Steeling my spine, I march into the building with my head held high. There’re so many things in life we can’t control, the actions of others being one of them. Worrying over how he’s going to behave won’t change anything.

  It’s out of your control. Just breathe.

  I pause outside of the classroom, take a few deep breaths, and then head in.

  Like always, Sterling’s behind the podium, looking disinterested. Not wanting to draw his attention, I grab the first open seat I see. Unfortunately, it just so happens to be in the front of the classroom, directly in his line of sight.

  He glances my way right as my butt hits the seat. My cheeks heat, and he smirks.

  So much for not drawing his attention.

  I want so badly to move to a desk in the back of the room, but I’m here now, and it would only make me look weak to move now.

  Also, I don’t want him to think I’m some scared little baby bird. We kissed. So what. No big deal. Or at least, that’s the lie I’m choosing to tell myself. Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll believe it, too.

  At nine on the dot, Sterling dives into his lecture. As much as it pains me to admit it, I could drown in the deep, smooth pitch of his voice.

  The upside is, I’m so tuned in to his every word, that note-taking is a breeze.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sterling

  I end my lecture with ten minutes to spare. “Please divide yourselves into groups of three and use the remaining time to discuss the four components of social perceptions and how they affect human beh
avior. This will be the main focus of Thursday’s lecture, so please be prepared to share what you discussed today.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket with an incoming text for what feels like the hundredth time.

  It’s Rob. I know it is. Without even looking, I know.

  He’s ramped up from weekly check-ins to daily. The fact that all I ever tell him is to be patient isn’t helping matters. Patience has never been one of Rob’s strong suits.

  With my class preoccupied, I slide my phone from my pocket and pull up our text thread.

  Rob: How are things?

  Rob: Any updates?

  Rob: Fucking answer me, Sterling.

  Rob: If you can’t get it done, I’ll find someone who can.

  Jesus. Talk about escalation. It’s like he’s gone completely off the deep end, and at this point, I’m not sure if I should toss him a life preserve or let him drown.

  Me: Chill out. I’ve got everything under control.

  Rob: Where are you?

  Me: In class.

  Rob: Fine. I want an update, a real one, by Sunday, Sterling.

  Me: You’ll have one.

  With less than a minute left, I dismiss everyone and settle back into my seat to wait.

  After all, timing is everything.

  I watch Emmalyn like a hawk as she packs away her belongings and hefts her messenger bag up, slinging the strap over her shoulder. I wait until she is nearly to the door before calling out her name.

  She turns to look at me, her eyes wide with trepidation.

  “A word, please.” It pains me to tack on that last word, but if she’s to believe I’m turning over a new leaf, manners are a must.

  Indecision paints her every feature, before she finally turns and comes to me, just like I knew she would.

  Summer glares at her as she walks by, intentionally knocking her shoulder into Emmy’s.

  I cover my smirk with a yawn before adopting a carefully neutral expression, as I file away a reminder to employ Summer’s particular brand of bitchy before all’s said and done.

  “You wanted to see me?” she asks.

  I wait until we’re alone before replying.

  “I did. I wanted to see if you’d like to retake the quiz on Tuesday. That’d give you the weekend to go over the correct materials.”

  “What’s the catch?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

  Smart girl.

  “Why do you assume there’s a catch?”

  “Nothing in life is free, Sterling. Especially not your kindness.”

  I can’t help but grin at her candor. “I suppose you’re right. This offer does come with strings attached.”

  Her eyes flit between me and the door as she debates whether or not she should hear me out.

  Finally, after what feels like an excruciating eternity, she says, “Name them... your terms, that is.”

  A pleased feeling stirs inside of me, even as I suppress my grin. “Lunch.”

  “What?”

  “Let me take you to lunch.”

  “What?” she asks again, parroting herself.

  “If you want to retake the quiz next week, let me take you to lunch today. Do try and keep up, Emmalyn. They say you’re smart.”

  She snorts out a derisive laugh. “Definitely smart enough to know going anywhere with you is a bad idea.”

  “Are you scared?” I ask, half taunting and half genuinely curious.

  “Women are taught from a young age not to intentionally put themselves into dangerous situations. Something tells me being alone with you is most definitely dangerous.”

  “But we’re alone now,” I press, needing her to take me up on this offer. My entire plan hinges on her cooperation.

  “Do you swear this isn’t just another game?”

  “It’s not a game, Emmalyn.”

  Hook.

  “And you swear I’ll get to retake the quiz?”

  “I guarantee it. I can put it in writing if you’d like.”

  Line.

  “And you’re not like... luring me away to murder me?”

  I throw my head back and laugh.

  “While the idea of my hands around your throat holds merit, I have no intention of killing you,” I mutter under my breath, willing my mind to dispel the pretty picture my words are painting.

  “What?”

  “No, Emmalyn. I am not luring you away to kill you. I simply think we need to have a talk, and lunch seems like a good way to go about doing it.”

  “Okay. Sure. When?”

  Sinker.

  “Now’s great for me.”

  “Oh, um. Today. Wow. Um.”

  “I know you don’t have any other classes today. I know you don’t have a job or internship. So, whatever bullshit excuse you’re concocting in that pretty little head of yours, save us both the trouble and don’t.”

  Her eyes flare at my demanding tone, though with heat or shock, I can’t say.

  “Okay.” She flexes her fingers, clutching and releasing the strap of her bag. She’s nervous, and the predator in me likes it. “Today is good.”

  “Great. I’ll drive.”

  “We’re... going off campus?” She gulps, and my eyes hone in on her delicate throat. My brain buzzes at the memory of how soft she is there, how sweet she tastes.

  I give her a dull look. “Yes, Emmalyn. Surely you didn’t think I was taking you to the dining hall.” I rise from my desk and head for the door, not bothering to make sure she’s following. I know she is.

  No one pays any mind as we traipse across the campus to the parking garage.

  Her lips quirk up into a smile when the large structure comes into view. “Fancy.”

  I roll my eyes but tell her, “You couldn’t pay me to park my baby out in the elements. The paint job’s custom.”

  “Of course it is.” I grin as I make a big show of opening the door for her.

  “It’s nice, I’ll give you that.” She skims her finger over the buttery leather of the seat before buckling her seat belt.

  I stroll around to the driver’s side, but before I can open the door, my phone buzzes with another incoming text.

  Sliding it out, I quickly check the screen. It’s Rob. Again.

  Rob: Don’t fuck this up, Sterling.

  Me: Just trust me, man.

  I switch off my ringer, pocket my phone, and slide behind the wheel. “Ready?”

  Emmalyn chuckles nervously. “As I’ll ever be.”

  I find my attention divided for most of the drive. While I know I need to watch the winding mountain roads, I want to watch the woman riding shotgun in my F-Type Jag.

  The way she squirms in the seat, the way she’s so careful not to look my way, the way she’s content to sit quietly rather than talk to me. All of these things combined only make me want to push her that much further.

  But I’ll play nice. For now, anyway.

  “Have you eaten here?” I ask, inclining my head toward our destination.

  “Café on the Corner.” She reads the sign and then shakes her head no. “I haven’t really explored town much. I’ve mostly stayed on campus.”

  “Why’s that?” I whip into a parking spot a few shops down from the café.

  She bites her lip and scratches at her chin. She’s nervous. “Um.” She laughs, but it is lacking all humor. “Sorry, I can’t help but think you’re going to use anything I say against me.”

  I adopt an understanding expression. “I can see why you’d feel that way. But, believe it or not, I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, Emmalyn.”

  Her big dark eyes study my face, looking for signs of insincerity. When she doesn’t find any, I send up a small thanks and offer her a small, encouraging smile.

  “Can new leaves even grow from rotten roots?”

  “Guess we’ll find out. Now, let’s go.”

  I fall back as we walk down the sidewalk, allowing Emmalyn to walk a step or so ahead of me. My eyes definitely drop to her ass more than once; devious bitch
or not, the girl’s got a backside you could bounce a quarter off of.

  She doesn’t wait for me to open the door—not that I was planning to—and marches straight to the hostess stand.

  “Hi, how many?”

  Before Emmalyn can answer, I step up behind her. “We have a reservation for two, under Abbot.”

  “Of course. Your table’s ready.” She grabs our menus and silverware rolls. “Right this way.”

  We follow her in silence, but I can tell Emmalyn is stewing over something.

  “Here you are. Your server will be by shortly. Our specials are listed on the board.”

  My lunch date glares at me from her seat across from me.

  “What?” I lean back into my seat, smirking.

  “I just think it’s awfully presumptuous of you to make reservations before asking me to join you.”

  “You’re the one being presumptuous.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, drawing my eyes to the hint of cleavage her sweater shows off. “How so?”

  “For starters, I have a weekly reservation here. You joining me today is pure luck.”

  “You said it was for two.”

  “Who’s to say I eat alone?”

  “Nice.” She clenches her jaw and flicks her eyes to the side before studying the menu like it’s her own personal bible.

  “Jealous?” I ask, more amused than annoyed with the attitude she’s throwing my way.

  “As if!” She scrunches her nose and damn, if it’s not cute as hell. “Why on earth would I be jealous?”

  I shrug. “You seem awfully upset over the thought of me bringing someone else to lunch.”

  “I’m not upset. Or jealous. I just think it’s... tacky.”

  “Well, this isn’t a date,” I say slowly, watching her face like a hawk. “Just a meal between two... friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “Acquaintances?”

  “That’s closer.” She closes her menu and nibbles her lower lip. “Why are we really here, Sterling?”

  “Let’s order first and then we can talk, okay?”

  “I guess. What’s good?”

  “The nachos,” I answer without hesitation. “They hand-cut the chips and the pico is made fresh for each order.”

  “Sold.”