Page 295 of Small Town Firsts

His steel eyes flare with heat. “Not what I’m craving, but it’ll do... for now.”

CHAPTER 25

EMMY

During the first quarter,I try to keep my focus on the game, on Gabe and his teammates, but my mind is too busy obsessing over Sterling and his odd behavior.

All day he’s been glued to my side, attentive and caring and charming. It’s honestly freaking me out. Even my brain is starting to question if this is all a game to him. The more time we spend together, the more I find myself wanting to believe him.

Add in all of his small touches, and heated looks... yeah, I’m a mess. A confused, terrified, and mildly turned-on mess.

By the second quarter, I give up all pretenses of paying attention. Luckily, Stella and Zach are too engrossed in the game to notice.

Sterling, though—he’s so tuned in to me, my every thought and feeling, we may as well have some kind of sci-fi mind link thing going on.

“You okay?” he asks, bumping my shoulder with his.

“Fine. Just...”

“A million miles away?”

“Maybe only a thousand.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Here?” I look around the stands, which are packed to the brim with Wildcats fans decked out in gold and blue.

He does this adorable neck-bob-shoulder-shrug thing that makes him look so boyish. “Sure, why not?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out.” As soon as I say the words, I wish I would have lied. He probably thinks I’m nuts.

“Tell me what you want to know, Emmalyn.”

I’ve already started digging myself a hole, so I may as well keep shoveling. “Why are you being so nice to me? I know you said you’re turning over a new leaf, but I just—I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He tips his head to the side and adopts a wounded look. “You don’t trust me?”

“I want to,” I confess, since apparently, I’ve lost my mind.

“Guess I’ll have to try harder.” His words are the exact same ones he said to me after the quiz incident. I can’t help but wonder if it is a coincidence or a deliberate choice.

I smile weakly, not knowing how to reply. He has me flustered to the point of not trusting my own judgment. And when he reaches over and clasps my hand, twining our fingers together, I very nearly stroke out.

“What are you?—”

“Shh,” he cuts me off, rubbing small circles over my hand with his thumb. “We’ve got the ball.”

The buzzer for halftime sounds, and the players hustle off the field. Stella tries drawing me into conversation, but it’s hard to hear her over the marching band doing their thing.

Shaking my head, I point to my ear, but Stella’s not having it. She stares pointedly at mine and Sterling’s clasped hands and then slips her phone out of her bag, her fingers flying over the screen.

Sure enough, my phone buzzes two seconds later. With my free hand, I wiggle the device free from my pocket, unlock it, and swipe open our thread.

Stella

BABE! Dish.

Me

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