Page 234 of Small Town Firsts

He grins as he nears. It’s a feral sort of smile, one that promises pain, retribution, and punishment for my perceived crimes.

He’s more than halfway to me when I finally unfreeze. I don’t think twice, I just run, the sound of his cruel laughter chasing behind me.

CHAPTER 6

STERLING

I’ve seenEmmalyn a few times on campus now. She always looks so meek and mild and innocent.

She’s convincing, too, with her eyes always on the ground and her soft, stuttered words. Hell, I was almost ready to call the whole thing off, my friendship with Rob be dammed.

Until I remembered it’s all a ruse; I know the kind of girl she really is.

Treacherous.

Traitorous.

A liar who had a serious case of buyer’s remorse.

I wavered for a split second when I saw her venturing out of the walking trail with an unreadable expression on her face.

At first, I misread it as fear, but I quickly saw it for what it truly was—guilt.

The absolute unfettered guilt in her gaze when she saw me was all the confirmation I needed.

And when she ran? I shake my head at her idiocy. Innocent people don’t run. Why would they when they have nothing to hide?

If she thinks running away somehow absolves her of her sins...

She’s wrong.

A pound of flesh is owed, and I am more than happy to collect on Rob’s behalf. I’ll make her suffer ten times over for what she did to him.

Emmalyn has no idea what’s in store for her. She foolishly thought she could upend my best friend’s life and then scurry away to Georgia, like a scared little mouse.

Too bad for her, Rob somehow managed to arrange for her to end up here.

With me. Her very own big, bad wolf.

She’s backed into a corner now and doesn’t even know it.

Game on, little mouse. Game on.

CHAPTER 7

EMMY

For the secondday in a row, I bolt upright in bed, gasping for air while tears stain my cheeks.

“It’s okay,” I console myself. “You’re okay. He’s not here.”

I repeat the words, over and over, until the lingering wisps of my nightmare wither away and my heart rate returns to normal.

Logically, I know that Sterling Abbot isn’t here, in Georgia. He’s back in Texas with all of the monsters, doing rich boy things. Like ruining lives and crushing dreams.

After sprinting all the way back to my dorm, I scoured the school’s website for any mention of him. Much to my relief, my search came up blank. There’s no trace of a Sterling Abbot at Central Valley.

For a split second, it crossed my mind that he could be a student here, but I brushed that notion aside. Surely a man like him would go to an ivy and not a small-town private college.

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