Page 9 of Pretty Little Fears

Hewaits a few seconds, and when he doesn’t get a response, he releases the strand of hair and steps backward.Givingme a small nod with a devilish smirk, he begins retreating toward his house.Idon't dare linger for a moment longer.Thefront door shuts and in an instant,I’msprinting back towards my house.

Bythe timeIarrive at the house, the sun has risen andI'mcertain the other girls have woken up.Walkinginside,Ikick off my shoes and hurry to my bathroom to take a shower.Ineed to rid myself of the sweat on my skin and the filthy thoughts in my mind.

Turningon the water,Iwait for it to reach a temperature practically close to boiling.Steampermeates the room andIbegin to undress.AsIstep into the shower,Ihear footsteps outside of the door.Suspectingthe other girls are awake,Icommit to a quick shower.Thewater runs over my sweat-filled hair andIlet out a small moan at the calming sensation it brings over me.Mymind flickers back to seeingEmmettBlackwoodon his front porch, smoking a cigarette and committing to an early death.Oh, the thingsIwould do to be that cigarette, in between those soft, full li-

“Blair!Doyou want to grab a coffee atCozyCupbefore class?!”Aspenyells from outside the door.Myheart is racing from the shock of her unexpected yell but also from these unexpected feelings forEmmett.He’snice to look at but that’s all.Thoseicy eyes hold no love, no warmth.I’dbe crazy to even think about getting involved with him.

“Yeah,I’llbe right out!”Iyell back.Givingmyself one last rinse,Ishake out any thoughts, clearing my head of the compelling stranger.

Exitingthe shower,Iwrap myself in a fluffy white towel while wiping the mirror clean of fog.Ifeel cleaner, but unfortunately, it did nothing to rid me of any thoughts of him peppering the curves of my neck with kisses and hearing his warm, whiskey whispers in my ears.

Leavingmy hair down to air dry,Ipull on a pair of light washed jeans and a white crew neck tank top that cuts off right above my belly button, leaving some exposed skin.Iput on a pair of tan sandals then apply some mascara on my eyelashes and a little lip gloss before grabbing my bag and heading downstairs to make our way toCozyCup.

AspenandIarrive atCozyCup, pick up our orders, and head to class.Wepart ways andIanxiously find my way to my very first class atBlackwood, economics.Notthe most exciting place to be first thing onMondaymorning, but it’s for my future.It’sfor my dad.

Growingup,Inever experienced that feeling of passion or knowing my purpose.Forsome, it’s to teach or act.Forothers, it may be to serve the country or become president.Theinnate dream that people have once they’re old enough to walk or talk wasn’t present inside of me.Thatwas until my dad passed andIhad to step into his shoes overnight.

Mydad,MichaelStirling, was a strong and smart businessman.Hebuilt his restaurant,Bub’sGrubsfrom scratch.Dadworked his ass off until he was able to start his own eatery.Itwas his dream to own an establishment where people came to enjoy life and good food all at once.

Myparents were high school sweethearts, and mom always supported dad’s dreams.Shestuck by his side and believed in him like no other.SoonafterBub’sGrubscame about, so didI.Igrew up there.I’dknown every staff member sinceIwas in diapers.Beingat the restaurant with my dad was my favorite place to be.Ienjoyed spending that quality time with my father.

Momentsand memories flash through my mind of our precious time together before he got sick.Ihad just graduated from high school.Afteryears of hard work,Bub’swas at its peak and dad was reaping the benefits.Itwas the night beforeThanksgivingand dad had stayed behind at the restaurant to finish up some paperwork.

Oneof the dishwashers heard a loud thud and ran to dad’s office.Uponfinding him on the floor, he called an ambulance and ran to alert the other employees.Theyhad contacted my mother and we raced to the emergency room.

Aftermy father was admitted, they ran test after test to figure out what had happened.Hisdoctor relayed the devastating news, dad was diagnosed with cardiovascular cancer and we were able to start him on treatments the next week.

Treatmentstook such a toll on his body and his spirit.Whenhe was diagnosed, he was given a timeline, six to ten months.Dueto his condition, stress and work were automatically cut out of the picture.Momwas by his side day and night, watching the love of her life wither away.

That’swhenIbegan working long hours to keep the restaurant above water.Ihadn’t planned on going to college, butIhad no training and no knowledge on how to runBub’son my own.Momchanged after his death, which was understandable.Idid too.However,Icouldn’t let his dream die.Itwas imperative to me to figure out how to run the business while mom got back on her feet.Wehad an agreement, she would take over for now and runBub’swhileIwas in school, and after graduation, it would be mine.

Snappingback into reality,Imake my way into the building.Ithas beautiful high ceilings and stunning paintings ofBlackwoodroyalty.Iventure down the hallways until coming to the lecture hall and pull open the double doors.Idon’t want to seem too eager and sit in the front, soIsettle for a seat in the middle section, closer to the aisle.

I'mnot the first student here and more start to trickle in.Theseats fill up quickly and an older man, seemingly in his late fifties, strides to the front of the room and starts to set his stuff up.Thechattering of students dies down as he clears his throat, introduces himself asProfessorMonroe, and begins the lecture.

ProfessorMonroeis divingdeep into the conversation on different supply and demand processes when the doors to the lecture hall swing open loudly.Allthe students, including myself, turn to see who had the arrogance to show up an hour late, obnoxiously loud at that.Idon't know whether to be shocked or not-so-surprised that it’s none other thanEmmettwho stands at the doorframe.

Hedoesn't so much as spare anyone a second glance as he takes a seat at the back of the room.Theprofessor picks back up on the lecture as if nothing had just happened, like it was a regular occurrence.

Ifit wasn’t obvious enough that his last name was plastered all over the university,Aspenhad informed me thatEmmettis the son ofDeanBlackwood.Guesswhen daddy runs the school, you really can do as you please.Ifthat was any other student or myself, we would have gotten kicked out of class and maybeBlackwoodas a whole.Ilet out a scoff that warrants glances from my fellow classmates.

Icontinue to listen toProfessorMonroefor another ten minutes, but the entire timeIhave this unsettling feeling thatI’mbeing watched.

Turningaround to look atEmmett,Ifind him staring right at me with his chin resting in his palm.Hewiggles the fingers on his free hand, in a small wave andIroll my eyes before facing the front of the room again.Moretime goes by and out of curiosity,Ipeek back atEmmettagain.He’sin the same exact position, the heat from his eyes practically burning holes into the back of my head.Annoyed,Ipull out my phone underneath the desk and pull upAspen’scontact to send her a text.

Me: Guess who’s in my class…

Aspen: Omg, who?

Me: That Emmett guy. I don’t know what his problem is but he keeps staring at me.

Aspen: At least he’s hot lol. Want me to stab him?

Me: No murder, just distractions. Please.

Aspen: I guess I can do that instead. Party this Friday? Drinking and dancing, it’ll be fun!

Me: Yes, that sounds perfect. ??

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