Sweet Little Nothing

“I can. And I do.”

“That’s not fair.”

Summer shrugs, unaffected. “Life’s not fair.”

Emmalyn’s cheeks redden as her anger grows.

I allow their standoff to continue for another minute before dismissing the class and returning my attention back to my laptop, in earnest this time.

A shadow falls over my keyboard causing me to glance up.

“Yes?” I ask, affecting a bored tone.

“Can we talk, please?” Emmalyn rakes her teeth over her lower lip.

“What about?”

“My partner.” She cringes, but presses on. “It’s just, I don’t think we can work together, and—”

“I’m going to go ahead and stop you there.” I push my chair away from the small desk and stand. “There will always be people who are difficult to work with, Princess Price.”

“I understand that, I do. It’s just—”

“It’s just that you’re a spoiled brat. But guess what?” I lean down and in, nearly pressing my lips to her ear. “You’re in the real world now.” Unable to help myself, I skim my nose over the shell of her ear, and she shivers, a response I file away for later. “Better get used to it.”

As if on autopilot, she nods as she backs away before turning and running for the door.

I follow her into the hallway, watching in satisfaction as she once again flees from me.

That is until she runs into a blond version of the Hulk.

“Sorry!” she cries, as the giant reaches out to steady her. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Long time no talk, huh, sweets?”

I can’t see her entire face from where I’m standing, but I can see enough to know she’s smiling warmly at him.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d run into you again.”

He reaches down and rubs the ends of her dark hair between two of his fingers. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Really? Well, you found me.”

He lets her long locks drop and then reaches into his back pocket for his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers, yeah?”

She rattles off her number, and I repeat it in my mind, committing the seven digits to memory.

“Perfect, I sent you a text so you’ll have my number. Feel free to save me as Stud Muffin or something equally charming.”

She laughs, and the sound of it grates against my every nerve.

I don’t realize how much until my jaw aches from me clenching it.

Emmalyn Price is mine. Mine to punish and mine to play with.

“Or, I could save you as Gabe?” she says with a laugh, and when he does, too, red tinges my vision.

Somehow, my reaction to seeing her interact with him... it goes beyond Rob and his vendetta, and while I know it, I’m wholly unwilling to admit it.

Princess Price and her impending destruction is nothing more than a favor to a friend. I’m angry over her talking to him, because I don’t want him to suffer the same fate as my best friend.

Once a liar, always a liar.

That’s my story, and goddamn it, I’m sticking to it.

Chapter Twelve

Emmy

“Spoilsport,” Gabe jests, grinning.

“That’s me.”

“Are you okay?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to nod my head yes, to lie and say everything’s okay. But I don’t. Because even in Gabe’s comforting presence, my anger still boils and bubbles like a witch’s cauldron.

“No,” I whisper my confession and, though we’re virtual strangers, he wraps his meaty arms around me and pulls me close.

“Let me take you to lunch.”

“It’s not even lunchtime.”

He glances down at his watch. “Brunch then, Emmy.”

“Brunch is for Sundays.” I don’t know why I’m being so difficult. I guess it’s because I don’t want a pity meal.

“Sweets, brunch is a state of mind. Now, let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“A hundred and one.”

“What?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m one-hundred-and-one percent sure I’d like you to join me for brunch.”

“Smartass.”

“Always.” He smirks. “Let me text Zach really quick.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

Gabe heaves out a long-suffering sigh and wraps his arm around my shoulders, guiding me out of the building. I’m probably imagining it, but I swear I can feel the burn of someone’s stare against my back as he leads me out into the sunshine. “You aren’t interrupting. You were invited. Plus, we’re just going to the dining hall.”

“Thanks, Gabe.”

He presses his palm to his cheek and flutters his long lashes. “I know, I know. I’m a great guy.”

As we approach our destination, Gabe drops a bomb on me. “So, you gonna tell me what had you so upset?”

“Do I have to?” I ask, halfway hoping he’ll let me off the hook and halfway hoping he’ll press for more.

“Yes,” is his single word reply.

I turn to look at him, surprised to find his lips pressed into a thin line and his face set in stone. “Um...”

He reaches around me and pushes open the door to the dining hall, letting me enter before him. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that something upset you. Bottling things up is a shit way to dealing—trust me. Let it out. You’ll feel better, and maybe... maybe I can help rid you of what ails you.”