Page 282 of Small Town Firsts

"Are you sure?"

I know she's trying to be nice, and to help, but right now, I just need to get out of this shop. "Thanks, but I–I need to go."

I turn and race out of the coffee shop, chunking my uneaten croissant and mostly empty cup into the trash on my way.

My hoodie is soaked through, but my tank top underneath is mostly dry. On any other day, I'd count that as a win, but it's in the low fifties, which is far too chilly for a damp shirt with no sleeves.

A quick glance at my phone tells me I only have eight minutes to get to class, so going home to change isn't an option. So, tank top it is.

I tug off my hoodie and tie it around my waist, with the wet side facing out before turning and rushing to my class. I'm nearly a popsicle by the time I arrive, but I make it with seconds to spare.

"Emmalyn, a word?" Sterling words it as a question, but his tone tells me it's a command.

"What's up?"

He glares at my exposed shoulders as if they personally offend him. "Where are your clothes?"

"Um. I'm wearing them."

"No. You're not. You have on glorified pajamas." He notices the hoodie tied around my waist. "Put your jacket on."

"No can do."

"Why?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"Your girlfriend spilled coffee on me."

"My what? I don't have a girlfriend. What are you talking about?"

"Melanie."

Sterling pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly. "Don't move." He bends down and riffles through the bag at his feet. "Put this on."

"What?"

He shoves the shirt, one ofhisshirts, into my hands. "Put this on."

"Why?"

"Emmalyn, don't test my patience. Put on the goddamn shirt and take a seat so we can get started. You're holding up the start of class."

Anger, disbelief, and embarrassment burn my cheeks, but I shrug the button-down on all the same.

Immediately, his scent surrounds me, making me want to inhale deeply and hold my breath all at once.

The implications of our little spat don't really hit me until I turn around to find a desk only to find the entire class gaping at me. Well, except for Summer–she's glaring daggers.

I duck my head and rush to an open seat, sliding my laptop from my bag, determined to ignore the whispers. But Summer isn't content to be ignored. "I heard she's sleeping with him for an A, but after they fucked, he told her the best he could do was a C."

My eyes fill with tears, but I don't speak up in my defense. If high school taught me anything, it's that giving them a reaction, any kind of reaction, only makes it worse.

Apparently, Sterling's never learned this lesson. "Miss Winters, my desk."

Yes, her name is Summer Winters. I’m completely not surprised.

Summer saunters his way, her hips swaying like a pendulum. He crooks his finger, beckoning her closer.

Something akin to jealousy curls in my gut, but I squash it down. Sterling's free to talk to whomever. He's not mine. Hell,we're hardly even friends. I need to get a grip. Up until this week, he's been a grade-A asshole.

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