Sweet Little Nothing

“It’s the second day of class,” I deadpan, cocking my head to the side, studying her. She’s a looker with perky tits, tan skin, big blue eyes, and glossy blonde hair.

She’s also got mean girl written all over her, and as shitty as it makes me, I’m already weighing her usefulness. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger and bats her obviously fake lashes. “Of course. This class is so important.” She licks her lips and drags her eyes over my body. “And I’m always down for a little extra credit.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her no, but alienating her certainly won’t endear her to my cause. Instead, I lean in, just enough for her to think I’m interested. “I’ll keep that in mind...” I trail off, waiting for her to offer her name.

“Summer,” she says.

“Perfect, Summer. I look forward to calling on you in class.”

She grins, like I’ve offered her a ride on my dick.

I turn back to the papers I have gathered on the podium, hungry anticipation for Emmalyn’s arrival gnawing at me.

At the last minute, she strolls into the room with her head held high and a small smile on her face.

Well, that won’t do.

Thanks to her late arrival, most of the seats are full. She heads toward an open seat in the center of the room. As she moves down the aisle, her bag knocks into Summer’s desk, sending the cell phone perched on the edge crashing to the floor.

“Stupid bitch,” Summer swears under her breath, loud enough for most of the room to hear.

I let it slide, though, because the shoe most assuredly fits.

“I’m so sorry!” Emmalyn’s cheeks are as scarlet as the letter branded on her lying little soul as she scrambles to retrieve the phone.

“Get your hands off of my stuff!” Summer snatches the device back, glaring as though Emmalyn’s touch alone has somehow tainted her phone.

Emmalyn’s eyes take on a glassy sheen, but she continues to the open desk without replying.

“Now that everyone’s here and the show’s over”—I glare at Emmalyn, and she slinks down in her seat—"let’s get started. Today I’m assigning the first group project of the semester. You’ll be grouped in pairs and are expected to work together, as a unit, to do the research and the writing. You will also be required to give a presentation."

Murmurs along with a few groans fill the room. I let them have their moment before continuing.

“For this project, I will be assigning groups.” I begin rattling off names until there are only two left. Summer glares at me, while Emmalyn’s are downcast in a sad sort of acceptance.

“Summer, you’re with—”

She cuts me off before I can finish. “You can’t be serious!”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh, but I am.”

“Sterling,” she whines.

“There will be no complaints over your pairing, nor will there be any changes. If you can’t work together like mature adults, you’ll take a zero.” I drag my steely gaze from one side of the room to the other. “Which I wouldn’t recommend, as this is worth a hefty percentage of your grade.”

Another chorus of murmurs and groans ring out, but I pay them no mind. There’s only one person’s reaction that’s of any interest to me, and much to my dismay, she’s wearing an impenetrable mask of indifference.

“For your project, you’ll be writing a research paper on social cognition.” I go on to outline the finer points of the project before telling them to find their assigned partner. “I’ll give you a few minutes to discuss the project with your partner, please be sure to exchange contact information.”

The students scatter across the room in search of their partners, save for two. Summer sits with her plump lips curled into a vicious snarl, while Emmalyn looks more like a frightened field mouse.

The two glare at one another from their desks, both unwilling to make the first move.

I already know who’s going to cave first though, and it’s not going to be the snotty blonde.

As if on cue, Emmalyn slips from her seat and trudges over to Summer.

I hide my interest in the screen of my laptop, pretending to read while discreetly watching the two from the corner of my eye.

“Um, what days are you—”

“Okay, no. Stop.”

“What?” Emmalyn’s brow furrows.

Summer rolls her eyes. “I’m not free, any days, none at all, to work with you.”

“But it’s a group project. It requires both of us.”

“Your point?”

“My point is you can’t expect me to do it all.”

I’m mildly shocked by Emmalyn’s backbone. She’s always been on the meek side, so seeing her stand up to Summer is... unexpected.

As is the reaction her fire—as small as the flame may be—is having on me.

I recline slightly against the back of the desk chair, no longer bothering to pretend I’m not watching them. They’re both too engrossed in their showdown to notice.