Page 298 of Small Town Firsts

“C’mon, Sterling.” Emmalyn pries one of my hands from her shoulder and drags me forward. “Let’s try to have a good time.”

I hold steady though, not budging an inch. “Ride with me?”

She looks back at me and then to her friends’ retreating forms. “Okay.”

It may be a small victory, but it feels like so much more. She easily could have refused and caught a ride with her friends. But she didn’t. She’s sitting shotgun in my car. It’s a small sign of trust, and I’ll gladly take it.

And I damn sure plan on making the most of it.

“Come on, Emmy,” Stella calls.

“We’ll meet y’all there,” Emmalyn replies as we catch up to them.

“Oh.” Her friend shoots her a look that’s so transparent even I can read it. She’s worried about leaving Emmalyn with me. “Okay. Well. I’ll text you the address.” We break apart and head to our respective vehicles.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

She looks up at me from her peripheral vision. “It was okay. I don’t know that it’s something I’d want to do regularly.”

“Sensory overload?”

“Majorly. And, it’s just a long day.”

I nod. “That it is. You got an address for me yet?”

“Not yet.”

When we make it to my car, I open her door and help her in; this gentleman facade is quickly becoming a habit.

My phone buzzes against my thigh as I walk around to join her, but I ignore it, already knowing who it is. Rob’s been texting me every hour on the hour for a few days now. It’s safe to say he’s gone off the deep end at this point.

Which begs the question—is his fragile mental state and burning anger fueled by her false accusations or is he simply a deranged sociopath?

He’s always toed the line of what’s socially acceptable, but here lately, it seems he’s self-destructing. I can’t help but wonder why. Why is he so hell-bent on destroying Emmalyn? Why is her demise worth the cost of his mental health?

That’s not to say I don’t think she deserves payback; I just don’t...Fuck!I don’t even know anymore. Either way, I need to know, and I meanreallyknow, before I do something that can’t be taken back.

I slide behind the wheel, liking the look of Emmalyn in my passenger seat a little too much.

“Oh, Stella texted.” She flips her screen my way, and I throw the car into gear.

It’s time to set phase two in motion.

By the time we make it to the football house, the party is in full swing. There are so many cars that we have to park on a side street, about a block and a half away.

“You ready?” I ask, killing the engine.

“Um. No?” She says it like a question, following it with an uneasy laugh. “I don’t... Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Is that why I found you holding up the wall at the last one?”

A pained look flashes across her brown eyes at the mention of the last party; and with good reason. I was a real jackass.

“Pretty much.”

“The Emmalyn I used to know loved parties. I remember you always going out.”

“The Emmalyn you used to know is dead.” She turns away from me, but not in time to hide her tears.

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