Sweet Little Nothing

“I take it class was bad?”

I groan. “More than bad. It was awful.”

Stella shoots me a sympathetic glance. “Let’s get some food and you can tell me all about it.”

“Please tell me you want pizza,” I plead, fully prepared to stand in line alone if need be.

“Babe, I always want pizza.”

“Good, because I need it. Need. It.”

“Then you shall have it.” She links her arm with mine and steers us toward the entrance.

Inside, various tantalizing scents greet us, but I only have one thing on my mind.

Dough, sauce, cheese. Dough, sauce, stabbing Sterling in the face, cheese.

Okay, so more than one thing.

“So, you want to tell me what happened?” Stella asks softly, gauging my reaction.

“Well, I’m ninety-nine percent sure I just failed our first quiz.” I grab two slices of my beloved pizza. “And I’m one-hundred percent certain he set me up to do it.”

“Set you up how?”

“Remember last week when my syllabus changed?”

Realization dawns in her eyes. “That rat!”

“Yup. He’s vile.”

She nods. “All the pretty boys are.”

“Pretty boys like Samson?” I ask, hoping today’s the day she finally spills her guts. God knows I could use the distraction.

“Nice subject change, Emmy. Real subtle.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes as I swipe my card and key in my PIN.

An angry beep sounds, causing my cheeks to burn. “Oops. Must have hit a wrong number.”

The guy behind the kiosk rolls his eyes as I re-enter my code, making sure to press the correct keys this time, but the results are the same.

“Are you sure you’re entering it correctly?” he asks, sounding beyond bored.

“Positive.” I glance back at the growing line behind me. “Could you... um... enter it manually?”

“Sure.”

I pass him the card and he keys it in on his side. Whatever he sees on his side has his brow furrowing. “Your account is locked.”

“Locked? What? Why?” Uneasiness snakes its way through me.

“I don’t know. Just says it’s locked by a faculty member.”

“What?” I ask again, more in outrage than in search of an actual answer. Because there’s only one person to blame for this, and he’s already at the top of my shit list.

“You’ll have to go over to student services to get it fixed,” he says, right as Stella offers to cover my meal.

“That won’t be necessary.” My tone is low and lethal as I slam my tray down onto the counter. Turning, I stalk toward the exit, a righteous fire burning through me. If Sterling Abbot thinks he can break me so easily, he’s got another thing coming, and I plan to hand-deliver it.

“Emmy, where—”

“Talk later!” I call over my shoulder without looking back. I’m a woman on a mission, and there’s not a thing on this earth that’s going to stop me from finding him and giving him a good, swift kick in the balls.

Chapter Seventeen

Sterling

Office hours are a fucking joke.

Every single meeting thus far has been silver-spooned brats either offering to suck my cock for a higher grade or a good word with Ellison toward a referral letter.

Pathetic. The whole lot of them.

With only fifteen more minutes on the clock, I begin packing up. If anyone happens to drop by, I’ll wrangle up an acceptable excuse for my absence. Because I can’t sit here another second without losing my mind.

I half hoped for a certain little mouse to pay me a visit, but it seems she’s even more cowardly than I first imagined. She can’t even bring herself to confront me when I pretty much admitted to intentionally setting her up to fail.

She’s even more pathetic than the girls in here offering to fall to their knees. At least they’re willing to chase after what they want. Emmalyn though? She just hides.

It’s a shame, really. Then again, I’m not sure why I expected more from a woman of her caliber. Liars are inherently weak, and Princess Price all but built her throne on tall tales and falsehoods.

I check the time on my phone once more—ten minutes left. I cross the small office, raising my hand to flip off the lights and call it a day, when the door flies open with enough force that I have to jump back to keep from getting smacked in the face.

“What in the—”

“You have some nerve,” Emmalyn fumes, as if summoned by thought alone.

Her eyes are molten and her cheeks tinged crimson as her unbridled rage fills the air around us, weighting it, making it hard to breathe.

I pull a carefully blank face, careful not to show her the physical effect she’s having on me. I cock my head to the side and pout. “Aw. You mad?”

“Fucking furious.” She shoves me back and enters the room fully, throwing the door shut behind her.

“Good,” I growl, stepping into her space. I have no qualms about using my height to intimidate her. By hook or by crook, she will break.