Sweet Little Nothing

by Farlow, LK

  “We can split an order. The chicken is good, too. Local, free-range, and all of that other shit people like.”

  “Oh, um. Sure.”

  Our server walks up at that very moment, and once Emmalyn orders her drink, I order our food.

  “Now then, where were we?” I ask once we’re alone again.

  “You were about to explain your personality transplant.”

  Unintentional but genuine laughter spills out of me. Who knew my little mouse was so funny?

  “Maybe I’ve seen the error of my ways?”

  “Sterling, I’m not in the mood for games. Either tell me why we’re here or I’ll leave.”

  A million shitty responses sit on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them down, bitter as they are. “I’m not playing any games.” I lean forward, bracing my elbows on the table. “It’s just...” I trail off, laying bait.

  Which she eagerly eats up. “It’s just what?”

  “Everything with Rob, no one really bothered to really hear you, and I guess it doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Oh, sure.” She nods thoughtfully. “That totally explains why you’ve been such a nasty asshole. Because you were upset my voice was minimized. Makes perfect sense.”

  Swear to God, she wants me to spank her ass.

  “Look, I won’t deny that I’ve been... less than welcoming. I’ll even go a step farther and admit my behavior is a byproduct of my loyalty to Rob. He’s been my best friend my entire life, but that doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth.”

  Her eyes are laser focused on me, not quite in a glare, but close. She’s angry, but she’s eager to hear what I have to say. She’s so desperate for someone to buy into her lies that she doesn’t even realize she’s playing right into my hand.

  “And what brought about this change of heart?” she asks after our drinks are dropped off.

  I sip from my whiskey, weighing which reply will soften her the most. Another sip, and I decide to go for broke.

  “Honestly? Rob’s a little unhinged, and I just kept thinking, what if it was my sister?”

  “You don’t have a sister.”

  “Right.” I drum my fingers over the tabletop. “But, if I did, I’d want people to listen to her. To be there for her. To support her, to stand with her.”

  “So you... you believe me?”

  Not even a little… at least I don’t think I do. She’s so convincing, I can’t help but wonder who’s actually the liar.

  “I’m starting to think there’s more to it, and I’d really like to hear your side of things, Emmalyn.”

  Right before my very eyes, she softens. Melts, practically. “Emmy. Call... call me Emmy.”

  My God, this is almost too easy.

  “Okay, Emmy. So, yeah, if you’re open to it, I’d like to hear your side of everything. And I’m not saying to spill your heart in the middle of lunch, but in time. Is that okay?”

  “I...” She licks her lips and glances around the room. “I think I would like that.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Emmy

  Sterling smiles like the cat who ate the canary.

  At this point, I’m not sure which of us is the dumber: him, for thinking I’m falling for his obvious bullshit, or me for being half tempted to believe him.

  Regardless, I’m interested in seeing how this plays out. Even if it blows up in my face, it’s not like things can get worse, right? I only have three friends as it is, and who knows... maybe I truly can sway Sterling to see the truth.

  I’ll never know if I don’t try, so here goes nothing.

  “I know you’re majoring in psychology, but what are you planning to do with the degree?” Sterling asks as a heaping plate of nachos is placed on the table between us.

  “I—I want to be a victim’s advocate.” I clench and unclench my fists, feeling a whole new kind of vulnerability as I open up to him. “I want to help other people... people like me. I want to give a voice to the voiceless.”

  I expect him to laugh, but instead he nods encouragingly. “I can see you doing that.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  He shrugs and pops a queso-laden chip into his mouth. “You just seem the type. Like you’d enjoy helping people.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I ask, taking a chip for myself. “Oh my God. This is... whoa.”

  “Right? Told you.”

  We eat in silence for a few moments, my question seemingly forgotten. Or so I thought, until Sterling says, “No, it’s not a bad thing. It’s refreshing, if I’m honest. It’s rare to see such selflessness.”

  Even though his words are most likely nothing more than spoon-fed bullshit, I still feel my cheeks heat all the same.

  I only thought my brain and body were at war before, but that was merely a battle. This, him treating me with kindness, this is the war—and I’m going to have to be extra careful spending time with him if I want to emerge the victor.

  We exchange silly, inconsequential stories as we eat, and the entire time, I’m struck by how absolutely normal it feels. Then again, he’s probably playing me for all I’m worth. Though, joke’s on him there, because after the abuse I suffered at his best friend’s hands, I’m not worth all that much.

  Much to my surprise, and despite my protests to cover my portion, Sterling insists on footing the bill for our meal. “It’s the least I owe you after the way I’ve treated you,” he says, sounding so sincere I find myself wanting to believe he really is capable of kindness.

  But I know better.

  “Can’t argue with that,” I concede, because a free meal is a free meal.

  Even though I have a sizeable inheritance from my father, I try to live frugally, preferring to squirrel most of my funds away for my future. Lord knows my mother doesn’t offer support of any kind to me, especially financial support.

  I was prepared to pay out of pocket for an in-state school, but then I was offered a full-ride here, and I leaped at the chance to escape.

  So, yeah, I’ll take a free meal.

  “Ready to head back?” he asks as he signs the receipt with a flourish.

  “I guess so.” I push back from the table. “After all, I have some reading to catch up on.”

  For a split second, he looks taken aback by my casual joking over his deception. But in the blink of an eye, he schools his features. “I suppose you do. C’mon.” He gestures for me to walk ahead of him, but as I pass him, he presses a hand to the small of my back and falls in step beside me.

  His palm may as well be a brand on my skin, painfully hot, singeing my skin through the material of my sweater. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to acknowledge that his touch is affecting me.

  He keeps his hand on me the entire walk back to his car, and even opens the door for me, waiting patiently while I buckle before rounding the hood to the driver’s side.

  This gentleman act of his is so convincing, it’s a miracle he’s not majoring in acting. The thought gives me pause, because what is Sterling majoring in?

  “That’s a complicated question,” he says, shocking me out of my musings.

  “What is?”

  “What I’m majoring in.” He presses the start button and checks his mirrors before smoothly reversing out of our parking spot.

  “I asked that out loud?”

  He chuckles under his breath. “Sure did.”

  “Oh.” I duck my head. “Well, tell me.”

  “I’m finishing B school right now.” At my blank stare he continues, “Getting an MBA.”

  “And you’re TA-ing my psych class why?”

  He shoots me a cocky grin as he expertly navigates the winding mountain roads. “Simple. I’m the best student the department ever had.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, yeah. Bet you didn’t know there was more to me than good looks, huh?”

  I snort out a laugh. “Actually, I never realized there was more to you than sharp barbs.”

  “Funny girl.”

  �
�I think so.” I lean back against the seat and roll my head to the left to look at him. His profile is so stupidly handsome it sends a rush of flutters through me. “What are you doing with your degrees?”

  He sighs. “I’ll join dear old mom and dad in the family business.”

  I blanch at the mention of his parents. Rob lawyered up when I came forward against him, and Mr. Abbot ruthlessly represented him.

  Thank God we never went before any kind of judge, mostly because my mom told everyone I was a liar with an overactive imagination. But I don’t doubt for a second that he would have annihilated me in a courtroom.

  “Right. Why aren’t you in law school then?”

  “That’s a good question,” is all he says before changing the subject. “Are you going to the football game this weekend?”

  I want to poke and prod him for a truthful answer, but I let it go. “Yeah, we’re going to watch Gabe.”

  He white-knuckles the steering wheel as he turns onto the twisting road that leads back to campus. “Maybe I’ll see y’all there and you can introduce me.”

  Jesus, it’s like I’m in The Twilight Zone. “Maybe.”

  “What? You don’t want your friends to know me?”

  “I just figured you’d be with your friends.”

  “Well, maybe I’d rather be with yours.”

  Yep. Definitely in The Twilight Zone. He’s so convincing, it’s almost as if he actually wants to hang out with me.

  “Okay, Sterling. If that’s what you want.”

  “You have no idea what I want, little mouse,” he mumbles under his breath.

  We fall into a semi-companionable silence after that, with only the sound of the radio between us.

  Before I know it, Sterling rolls to a stop in front of my dorm, proving Gabe and Zach slightly right... because how else would he know where I live?

  “Thanks for lunch,” I say self-consciously as I fumble to unlatch my seat belt.

  “Thanks for joining me.” Sterling grins my way and before I can realize his intentions, he leans in and presses his lips to my cheek. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

  I stumble from his car in a daze, wondering not for the first time what his end game is.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Emmy

  “You ready for today?” Stella asks, her hair wrapped in a towel and a mask on her face.

  We both woke up earlier than usual—me to study a little more and her to primp.

  “Nope.” I nod. “Yes.” I shake my head. “Maybe? My God, I’m a mess.”

  “Talk to me.”

  It’s hard to take her seriously with green goop all over her face, but she’s trying her hardest to be there for me. “I don’t know. Sterling really threw me a curveball. Between kissing me and then being nice… I just...” I huff out a sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you already know I think he’s into you. Or at very least wants to get in to you.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Undoubtedly. Also, irrelevant. Wanna know what else I think?”

  “Sure.”

  “I think you should make the most of it. He wants to be nice and let you retake the quiz? Good. Ace it, and move on. Keep your guard up, but use this to your advantage, you know?”

  “Yeah, it’s just. Ugh!” I flip my laptop closed and bury my face in my hands. “He’s making me crazy.” It’s true, too; Sterling Abbot is driving me to insanity. Or at the very least, sleep deprivation.

  It seems like all I’ve done over the past day and a half is study and overanalyze every single moment between Sterling and me.

  “Babe, don’t let him get to you like this. Walls up?”

  “Walls up.”

  “Good. Now, I’ve gotta rinse this mask. Go forth and kick ass.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “There is no try, only do.”

  “Okay, Yoda.”

  Stella points to the green mask covering her face and winks before flouncing off to the bathroom.

  Left to my own devices, there’s nothing to do except obsess. At this point, I’m annoying myself. But all I can think about is what if this is just another cruel trick? What if he’s setting me up to fail again?

  Unable to stand my own whining, I throw on a hoodie, pack up my messenger bag, and head out. If I hurry, I should have time to grab a coffee before class.

  Holy Roasters is packed, per usual, but I still have twenty minutes to spare.

  For the first time in a long time, it feels like things are finally going my way. If only I could shake off the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  At the counter, I decide to splurge and get a large iced coffee and a chocolate croissant.

  I’m waiting on my order when the door opens and Melanie walks in with Abigail, one of the other RAs, and a girl I don’t know.

  Abigail smiles and waves while Melanie glares at me like I just kicked her puppy. I wish I understood her issue with me. Ever since the Sterling-incident at the party, it’s like she’s a totally different person.

  She went from sweet and encouraging to nasty and mean. All because she thought I was flirting with her man.

  Oh my God! We ate lunch together yesterday... we kissed...

  And it didn’t even occur to me to ask him about her. I am officially the worst.

  At this point, all I can do is hope that they’re not together, because while I’ve been called a lot of things, homewrecker shockingly isn’t one of them. And I’d like to keep it that way.

  The barista calls my name, and I pick up my goodies. I still have fifteen minutes left, so I plan to enjoy my breakfast on one of the benches outside.

  I square my shoulders and hold my head high as I pass Melanie and company, determined not to show even a hint of fear or hurt. If she and Sterling are together, I’ll apologize and own up to my mistakes, and if they’re not, how freaking sad that she’d let a guy twist her up like that.

  As I near the trio, Melanie’s eyes narrow and her lips quirk up into a perfectly evil smile. “Whore,” she coughs into her hand, like a middle school bully.

  I’m usually not one for confrontation, but for some reason today, I find myself over it. “What is your problem?” I ask, stopping in front of her.

  “You are.” She drags her eyes over me and curls her lip in disgust. “What kind of woman hits on another’s man? It’s pathetic, really.”

  “Listen, I didn’t know y’all were together. Furthermore, I’m not interested in Sterling in that way. I’m not your competition, Melanie. He’s all yours.”

  The girl I don’t know watches the two of us with wide eyes while Abigail looks concerned, but not shocked.

  “Sterling made it official?” the gorgeous redheaded RA asks. “I thought he all but ghosted you.”

  Melanie’s entire face darkens with rage. “You bitch!”

  Abigail shrugs. “I’m just saying. No reason to invoke girl code when you’re not exactly keeping it yourself. Y’all aren’t together, and Emmy couldn’t have known you were into him.”

  “What the fuck? Whose side are you on?” Melanie demands, nearly shouting.

  “Girl, it’s not a fight. There shouldn’t be any sides.”

  “Whatever.” Melanie shoves her way out of the line, intentionally knocking into me.

  “Oh my God!” I shout as the ice-cold coffee seeps into my shirt. “What in the hell?”

  “Watch your back, slut.” She struts out of the coffee shop with a venomous smirk playing on her lips.

  So much for the tide turning. My luck’s as shitty as ever. I guess now I just have to hope this isn’t an omen of what’s to come in class.

  “Are you okay?” Abigail asks as her friend hops out of line to grab napkins. “I’m so sorry about Mel. I don’t know what’s gotten into her!”

  “Good dick can drive even the sanest girl crazy,” no-name says, pressing a wad of napkins into my hands.

  “True,” Abigail muses. “But I know for a fact they haven’t fucke
d.”

  Listening to their conversation feels weird, especially since they’re semi-talking about me.

  Even worse is the spark of hope that flares in my heart at Abigail’s words. I really am pathetic.

  “Emmy, did you hear me?”

  "Huh?"

  "I asked if you're okay."

  "Oh. Um. I'm..." Confused. Upset. Sopping wet. "Fine. I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  I know she's trying to be nice, and to help, but right now, I just need to get out of this shop. "Thanks, but I–I need to go."

  I turn and race out of the coffee shop, chunking my uneaten croissant and mostly empty cup into the trash on my way.

  My hoodie is soaked through, but my tank top underneath is mostly dry. On any other day, I'd count that as a win, but it's in the low fifties, which is far too chilly for a damp shirt with no sleeves.

  A quick glance at my phone tells me I only have eight minutes to get to class, so going home to change isn't an option. So, tank top it is.

  I tug off my hoodie and tie it around my waist, with the wet side facing out before turning and rushing to my class. I'm nearly a popsicle by the time I arrive, but I make it with seconds to spare.

  "Emmalyn, a word?" Sterling words it as a question, but his tone tells me it's a command.

  "What's up?"

  He glares at my exposed shoulders as if they personally offend him. "Where are your clothes?"

  "Um. I'm wearing them."

  "No. You're not. You have on glorified pajamas." He notices the hoodie tied around my waist. "Put your jacket on."

  "No can do."

  "Why?" he asks through gritted teeth.

  "Your girlfriend spilled coffee on me."

  "My what? I don't have a girlfriend. What are you talking about?"

  "Melanie."

  Sterling pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly. "Don't move." He bends down and riffles through the bag at his feet. "Put this on."

  "What?"

  He shoves the shirt, one of his shirts, into my hands. "Put this on."

  "Why?"

  "Emmalyn, don't test my patience. Put on the goddamn shirt and take a seat so we can get started. You're holding up the start of class."