Page 221 of Small Town Firsts

Again, Rob appraises me for a long moment before finally nodding.

CHAPTER 2

EMMY

“A fresh start.”

I mumble the words under my breath for what has to be the billionth time as I drive up the narrow, winding road that leads to the secluded Central Valley campus.

I’ve said and heard those three stupid words so many times over the past nine months, I almost believe they’re true.

God, I hope they’re true.

My breath catches as the campus comes fully into view. The brochure in the welcome packet definitely sold this place short.

Nestled into the side of a mountain, the campus is spread over a lush valley, perfectly hidden away behind a thicket of trees.

Honestly, it’s charming, which only fuels my hope of this place being my redemption.

The grounds are overflowing with students and their families, and laughter rings through the air as old friends reunite after a long summer.

If I had to sum up the Central Valley campus in one word, it would behappy. This place radiates happy and maybe… just maybe… all of this bustling life and laughter is a good omen of what’s to come.

I guide my Honda—while a nice ride to the average person, it may as well be a jalopy compared to most of the cars in this lot—into a free spot and kill the engine.

All around me are students decked out in the latest name-brand fashions. They look golden and shiny and untouched by the darker side of life. But I know, probably better than most, not to judge a book by its cover.

I manage to suppress my doubt before stepping out of the car, nearly hitting a passerby with my door. “Sorry?—”

“Oh my God! Fucking watch it, you broke bitch!” the gorgeous blonde screeches as she shoves past me, effectively knocking me back into the driver’s seat.

“Sorry,” I whisper in her wake, willing myself not to cry. This is my fresh start, and I refuse to let one mean girl ruin it.

After a deep breath, I lock my fragile emotions back into their little heart-shaped box and exit the car. As I lean back into the car to grab my messenger bag, a creeping sensation washes over me, simultaneously prickling my skin and causing sweat to bead on my hairline.

Someone’s watching me.

“Just breathe,” I mutter to myself, securing the strap of my bag over my shoulder.

Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath for two counts before exhaling. I repeat this measure twice before ducking back out of my car and peeking around.

There are people everywhere, but none of them are paying any special attention to me.

I am no one here, andI know no one here, and this is still my fresh start.

I quickly smooth down the soft jersey fabric of my favorite sweatshirt—a second-hand thing I scored from the local thrift store back home—and grab my duffel bag from the trunk. Aside from a silken stuffed rabbit given to me by my paternalgrandmother at birth, my pillow, and a winter coat, all of my belongings are on my person.

Eighteen years on this planet, and all of my worldly possessions fit into two bags and a pillowcase. It’s kind of sad, really.

I keep my gaze on the ground in front of me as I make the trek across the parking lot to my dorm building.

While mommy dearest hasn’t ever done much for me over the course of my life, she managed to score me one half of a two-person suite—rare for a freshman, or so I’m told.

As thankful as I am for the privacy it will afford me, it in no way makes up for the fact that she all but pawned me, and my wellbeing, for a cushy lifestyle.

The dorm building looks more like a mountain lodge from the outside, with its stone and wood exterior, steeply pitched roof, and massive windows. Here’s to hoping the inside is as nice.

Plastered across the front, right over the grand entryway, is a banner that readsWelcome Wildcats!Beneath the banner, there’s a desk, and behind the desk, there’s a pretty redheaded girl, with a bored look on her face.

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