Page 87 of Small Town Firsts

“Mmmk. If you say so.”

“I do fucking say so.”

“Then it must be true.” I steeple my fingers beneath my chin and held my gaze steady with hers.

“Jesus, your damn head is so big it’s a miracle you can support its weight.”

“Got something else big too?—”

Abby Jane cuts me off with an upheld hand, just like I knew she would. “Don’t even wanna hear about your teeny weenie.”

I balk at her words. “Nothing teeny about it babe, but you do you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

We both attempt to get back into our study, but my phone starts up again, the vibration causing her highlighter to roll off of the table. “Seriously? Just answer it.”

Knowing we won’t get shit done if I don’t, I snatch up my phone and swipe across my screen to answer. “What do you want, Amanda?” I ask, my voice gruff and frustrated even to my own ears.

What she means to be a breathy giggle comes through sounding so much like desperation that I cringe for her. “Just to talk, Brocky.”

I’m half tempted to call her on her shit. Girls like Amanda Burkett neverjustwant to talk. There’s always some kind of ulterior motive. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of her minions didn’t have eyes on me right now. “Don’t wanna talk. We have nothing to talk about.”

“Silly boy. We need to talk about rings.”

I scrub a hand over my face before pushing back from the table. I stalk a few rows away and try once again to explain to this little psycho that we are not now and never will be an item, much less engaged. “Amanda. Listen to me. We’re not dating. We’re not a couple. Please stop calling me,” I beg, knowing it’s useless.

She every bit as crazy now as she was the night my father introduced her to me. Apparently our parents go way back, but Amanda spent most of her time away at boarding school. I’ll never forget the way she wrapped her hands around my forearm, smiling up at me like I was a shiny, new toy she couldn’t wait to play with. For a split second, I felt bad for judging her so harshly, but then she started chirping on about wedding plans and baby names before I even knew her name. I knew right then and there she was the real-life embodiment of thesingle white femaleand she had her sights set on me.

She laughs like I’ve just told the most hilarious joke. “Oh, Brocky, don’t be silly. I know you need to sow your oats beforesettling down. Just…hurry, okay?” Amanda doesn’t give me the chance to respond before ending the call.

I make my way back to the table, muttering as I go. “Girl troubles?” Abby Jane asks, sounding sincere.

“Something like that.” And really, I’m not lying. Amanda Burkettisa girl and sheistrouble…she also happens to be the girl my parents plan for me to marry.

Unfortunately, for every ounce of loathing I feel toward the situation, Amanda feels elation. She’d give anything to have my family’s last name. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if she already has monogrammed hand towels with it.

Abby Jane snorts out the cutest little laugh, melting away some of my frustration with Amanda. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not for real.”

For a second, she looks hurt, but she recovers quickly.Like Abby Jane has feelings.“Good, because I don’t wanna hear about your latest hook-up.”

I shoot her my most lecherous smile. “Your loss.”

“Puh-lease,” she splutters, and fuck if I’m not a tiny bit offended. She continues right on though, and I crumple up the sheet of paper in front of me, fisting it so hard my knuckles are white. “I’d probably need a map and a magnifying glass to find…”

Leaning across the small tabletop, I shove the wadded-up paper into her mouth, effectively silencing her. “Gonna stop you right there, Abby Jane, on two counts. One, you should know better than to speak about things you know nothing about, and two, Iknowat some point someone’s taught you not to say anything if you have nothing nice to say.”

Pissed as hell, Abby Jane attempts to chew my head off, but the paper’s still in her mouth. “You muddafugger!” she yells, causing me to crack up. Only, my laughter’s short-lived when a giant-ass spitball hits me square in the middle of my forehead.

I flash my eyes up to the pixie-sized she-devil seated across from me. “The fuck, Abby!”

“Gonna stop you there, Brock.” Her voice sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity. “You should know the golden rule…do unto others and what not.”

“Touché, Abs. Touché.” Her cheeks pink to match her hair at the use of her childhood nickname, and not gonna lie, it does something to my gut to see her looking at me like that.

Actually, fuck that. I’m totally gonna lie. It doesn’t do shit. I’m probably just hungry. Yeah, that’s it. Thank God there’s a Chipotle on the way home.

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