Page 103 of Small Town Firsts

I step back into my bedroom and set my sandwich and glass on the nightstand next to my still buzzing phone. Agitated, I snatch it up and unlock it with my index finger. I have four missed calls from Brock, along with a slew of texts.Too bad it’s too late, Jockstrap.

I drag down my notifications bar and read the preview of his last message. And while I can’t see more thanAbby Jane, please let me expla…I already know it’s probably nothing more than him trying to pass off some half-assed apology. Yeah, not gonna happen. I tapReplyand quickly inform him that he can fuck right off before deleting our text thread and setting my phone to the Do Not Disturb setting.

The guilt for deleting our thread without ever reading his texts sets in almost immediately. God, I hate being so wishy-washy. One of the things I’ve always prided myself on was knowing what I wanted or felt and sticking to my guns about it. But since Brock’s reentered my life, I’ve turned into a second-guesser, and it’s got to stop.

I’m seated at the kitchen bar studying Wednesday night when my phone rings. It’s Brock. Exasperated with his incessant calling, I answer. “What?”

“How nice ofyou to finally answer.”

“What? You don’t like being kept waiting? Huh, imagine that.”

“Jesus. I’m trying to apologize. Hell, I’vebeentrying to apologize.” He sounds as annoyed as I feel.

I pause for dramatic effect. “I’m waiting, Jockstrap.”

“Listen, I’m sorry for standing you up. Family shit came up, and I didn’t have my phone on me. Truly, Abs, I’m sorry.”

I can hear sincerity in his voice, and I believe him that something came up, but I’m still butthurt. “Great. Thanks for letting me know. Have a nice life.”

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“No,” I say, drawing out the word. “Nope.”

Indignant, he asks, “What do you mean no?”

Why do people have such a hard time with the word no?“I mean I’m not tutoring you anymore. Let’s be honest, you don’t even need it, and we can’t seem to be civil for more than seven minutes at a time.”

“That’s not gonna work for me, Abby Jane. Plus, I happen to remember something about tutoring me for a letter of recommendation? Geez, I’d sure hate it if you didn’t get that letter….” He pauses, letting his words sink in.

He wouldn’t…

“See you tomorrow or else, Abs. Your choice,” he says before ending the call.That rat bastard…he would!

CHAPTER 13

BROCK

I getto the library fifteen minutes before our usual time and park myself on the top step. I’m not giving Abby Jane the chance to back out of this. Then again, she could always stand me up, but I’ve just gotta hope she wants the recommendation letter badly enough to show.

Guess I didn’t need to worry after all, because at five o’clock on the dot, Abby Jane whips her beast of a car into a spot across the street. I stand as she approaches, ready to greet her, but she brushes right past me and into the library. Much to my shock, she takes us back to a small, private table.Interesting development.We both take our time getting situated, but we’re only delaying the inevitable. This conversation we’re about to have has been a long time coming.

I’m the first to break the uneasy silence. “Abs, let’s talk…please?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Talk.”

Sexy, difficult woman. “Look, you know my dad’s an ass. He forced me to stay for dinner, and I didn’t have my phone on me. I should have tried harder to reach out to you. I’m sorry, okay? Please forgive me.”

Her rigid posture slowly relaxes, and internally I pump my fist in victory. She’s gonna forgive me. She blows out a long breath and gives me a small smile. “Fine. But this is strike two, Jockstrap. Three and you’re out.”

I bark out a laugh. “Abs. You know there aren’t strikes in golf, right?” She bites her lip and shrugs.Jesus. This girl.Now that I know we’re not going anywhere; I dig my phone and keys from my pockets and lay them on the table.

“You ready?” she asks, opening her book, alerting me to the fact that in my haste to beat her here, I must have left mine in my truck.

“Shit. Lemme run out and grab my book; I left it…”

She cuts me off. “Sure, Brock. But please hurry. We have a lot of shit to do before finals.”

I push back my chair, smirking at how quickly she can switch gears—from pissed to playful to strictly business in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Quickly, I dash out and grab the book, which is right where I thought it was—on my dash. I rush to get back to Abby Jane, not wanting to run the risk of upsetting her and getting more sass from that smart mouth of hers.

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