Page 86 of Small Town Firsts

We exit our vehicles—his a big, shiny, jacked-up truck…probably overcompensating for his small dick. I take him in as he swaggers toward me; his dark hair is pushed back from his face and his baby blue polo shirt—free of any wrinkles—pops against his tanned skin and makes his blue eyes impossibly bluer. I can’t help but smirk when I see he’s paired said polo with charcoal-colored sweatpants and leather slip-on boat shoes.

“Get dressed in the dark?” I ask, unable to help myself.

My body heats as he drags his eyes all over me—until his mouth opens, ruining the moment. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Dammit. I totally opened myself up for that one, but still. His eyes lingered on the exposed skin from the cut-out sleeves of my shirt—what the hell AJ? Since when do you want Brock Larson checking you out? Snap out of it!

Brock moves in closer, running his knuckles over the hood of my car. “This looks just like your Gramps’s old ride.”

“That’s because it is,” I snap, marching toward the library.

Brock wastes no time and jogs to catch up. “Damn. You don’t gotta be so snippy, Abby Jane.”

Abruptly, I stop and spin to face him. “AJ,” I clip out. “AJ. That’s what I go by now. Two letters. Surely you can handle that.”

His chiseled face splits into a wide grin. This asshole is grinning at my reprimand. “You’ll always be Abby Jane to me.”

CHAPTER 4

BROCK

The second thewords pass my lips, Abby Janes looks ready to explode. Swear, if she were a cartoon character, smoke would be billowing from her ears. Using her momentary loss of focus, I stride past her, lightly checking her shoulder with mine. “You comin’?” I ask, just to rile her up a little more.

“I swear to fucking God,” she hisses, following behind me.

For some reason, I don’t feel like sharing her, so I lead us back to a secluded table that boasts only two chairs. Wasting no time, I make myself comfortable while she gawks at our seating arrangements.

“Any reason you passed the three open four-seater tables?”

“Just wanted to be alone with you,” I croon, pushing her chair back from the table with my foot. “Now, have a seat; time’s a-wastin’.”

“You’re lucky I need that damn recommendation letter.”

Her words hang between us. Abby Jane blanches, leading me to believe she didn’t mean to divulge that little tidbit.

I hit her with my most boyish smile. “What letter would that be?”

Flexing her jaw, she pointedly ignores me. “Let’s get started. We’ve already wasted fifteen minutes.”

I’ll let her off the hookfor now…but she best believe I’m filing that shit away for a rainy day.

Much to my surprise, Abby Jane is as smart as a whip, and for the next forty minutes, we focus solely on the Brit Lit study guide laid out before us, only stopping when my cell phone begins ringing. I silence it without bothering to check who’s calling.

But sure enough, it starts right back up. After ignoring the call, I turn off the ringer and lay it face down on the table. Right as I begin to find my groove, my damn phone begins vibrating against the wood, again and again, until finally, Abby Jane snaps. “Are you going to fucking answer that?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Why not?” she asks, scrunching up her nose, just like she always did as a kid when she didn’t understand something.

“It’s not anybody I wanna talk to,” I say, hoping it’ll close the subject.

Should have known better.

“Why?”

“Why do you care?” I counter, causing her to scoff.

“I don’t.”

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