Page 88 of Small Town Firsts

CHAPTER 5

AJ

T.G.I.F.,motherfucker. After what feels like the longest week in the history of the universe, it’s finally Friday, and I’m so damn ready to blow off some steam.

As Professor Doss finishes up her lecture on the themes of loyalty inBeowulf, I discreetly slip my phone from my bag and shoot a quick text to Stacia.

Me

Quixote’s tonight?

Stacia

God, yes. Pick me up at 9?

Me

No. Come over and get ready with me.

Stacia

Done. See you at 7.

Grinning, I slip my phone back into my bag and tune back in just in time to hear Prof Doss dismiss us. After I slide my laptop back into my bag, I head down the stairs toward the front of theclassroom, taking them two at a time. I’m almost to the door when Professor Doss hones in on me. “AJ. A minute please?”

So. Close.

“What’s up?” I ask, walking over to the podium where’s she’s gathering her belongings.

“I just wanted an update on how things are going with Mr. Larson.”

“They’re going.” I lift my right shoulder, the movement causing my bag to slip down my arm. She watches me like a hawk as I heft the strap up and over my head, securing it across my body.

“Going well?”

“Just going,” I answer honestly.

“Let me remind you what’s at stake, Miss Adams.”

Slightly chagrined, I nod my head, and just like that, she dismisses me.

In true Stacia fashion,it’s half past seven by the time she finally pounds on my door before letting herself in. She stumbles through the threshold with two bags draped across her chest and her makeup Caboodle in hand.

I arch my perfectly plucked and filled brow at her. “Why bother knocking if you’re going to walk in like you own the place anyway?”

Stacia tilts her head to one side, and then to another, as if she’s actually pondering an answer to my question before finally shrugging. “Habit, I guess. Now, let’s get ready.” She heads back toward my bathroom, and I trail behind her.

My apartment is another luxury Gramps’ trust afforded me. Housed in an old factory, the complex consists of only six units.The minute I toured the unit I’m in, I fell hard for the concrete floors, exposed brick, and high ceilings. It’s located within walking distance from campus and downtown, and at just over twelve-hundred square feet, it’s more than enough space for little old me—which probably explains why Stacia has so much stuff in my spare bedroom, even though she still lives at home.

While Stacia plugs her curling iron in at my double vanity, I make quick work of pulling a few outfit choices from my closet before joining her. I opt for a super messy updo that gives my hair that freshly-fucked look that boys go so crazy for. I compliment my hair with bedroom eyes and a glossy, nude lip—a stark contrast to Stacia’s bold blue lipstick, but damn, she rocks it.

Back in my bedroom, I strip out of my lounge clothes and move in front of my mirror, holding up hangers in front of me. Eventually, I settle on a skintight, white bandage dress with spaghetti straps that ends just shy of mid-thigh, pairing it with a pair of over-the-knee heeled boots.

“Damn, girl,” Stacia exclaims when she turns to look at me. I do a little twirl and then inspect her outfit of choice. The loose, black crop top ends just under her bust and she’s paired it with a black leather miniskirt and royal blue peep-toe velvet pumps.

“Back atcha, bitch.”

She shoots me a beaming smile before pulling a bag of Malibu from her bag. “Pre-game?”

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