Page 232 of Small Town Firsts

“Oh, yeah? Is the program good?”

His cheeks spread into a shit-eating grin. “Nope.”

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s got me, hook, line, and sinker. “Explain.”

“Dad wanted me to play ball. Mom wanted me to get a degree. This was a middle ground. It’s Mom’s alma mater, so Dad couldn’t say no without making her feel bad. And, technically, I’m on the team. It’s a win-win. You know, aside from the actual games. Those are definitely a loss.”

“I guess you aren’t trying to go pro?”

“Not even remotely. I’m working toward a communications degree.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

I’m so enthralled in our conversation, I don’t even realize I haven’t touched my own food, until Gabe asks if I plan on eating it.

I pinch off a bite and pop it into my mouth, my eyes falling shut as the flavors serenade my taste buds. Cinnamon, vanilla, and a hint of orange play a symphony in my mouth. “Oh my God.” I lick some of the cream cheese icing from my thumb, moaning softly before going back for more.

“Sweets,” Gabe groans.

I divert my attention from what I am now calling my crack roll to him. “Yeah?”

He shakes his head. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me? Rude.”

“You have to know you’re a total babe, right?”

All I can do is stare at him in utter confusion.

Gabe sighs like he doesn’t know what to do with me.

Well, back at ya, buddy, you’re about as easy to understand as a Rubik’s Cube.

“Emmy, I’m gonna level with you.” He drags his eyes over me in a way that leaves me more baffled than breathless. “You’re like, fuck-hot. Tall, toned, with curves in the right places. You’ve got a pretty face and pouty lips. Great hair. You’re easily a ten.”

My cheeks blister with what has to be third-degree burns as he basically takes stock of me like I’m a piece of cattle.

“Gabe, I?—”

He waves away my protests and bulldozes on. “You’re innocent and sweet and pretty much every college boy’s wet dream.”

I’m all but two seconds from bolting. This brunch is easily the weirdest I’ve ever experienced, and that’s really saying something since I broke bread with Satan himself on a weekly basis, smiling like nothing was amiss.

“I think I should go,” I whisper, pushing my chair back from the table.

“I’m not hitting on you, sweets. Chill.”

“Um.”

“Listen, you’re cute. Hot, really. But I’m currently more into dicks than chicks.”

His confession keeps me in my seat.

“I’m... so confused. Gabe, what is... what are you... just what?”

He sighs. “I guess I did get a little off-topic. My point was you need to be more aware. Of yourself, of your surroundings. You’re a pretty girl, and you wear your innocence on your sleeve for all to see. There’s plenty of people ready and willing to prey on that. That’s all I was trying to say.”

“No offense, but you went about it in a really weird way.”

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