Sweet Little Nothing

“Where are we going?”

“Just trust me, little mouse.”

“My, what sharp teeth you have,” I mutter under my breath as I follow him, praying with every step it’s not to my doom.

“This isn’t some ploy to trick you, Emmalyn.” He pauses in the doorway to his room, leaning against the frame. “The television’s in my room.”

“Oh.” Come to think of it, I didn’t see one in the living room. Weird, but not nefarious. “Okay.”

“Go on and get cozy. I’m going to change.”

And just like that, my nerves are back full force.

He waltzes into the room, disappearing into his bathroom without sparing me a backward glance. Which, I guess, I’m grateful for. At least I don’t have an audience as I wrestle myself into the room and onto his bed.

You can do this. Breathe. Just breathe.

With reluctant steps, I cross the space to his bed. Not even ten minutes ago, I was wondering at the fluffiness of his duvet, and now I’m peeling it back to climb beneath it.

The events of tonight are nearly enough to short-circuit my brain, but when Sterling steps out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, I’m pretty sure my motherboard fries itself entirely.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving past me to the other side of the ginormous bed.

“Huh?”

He leans over and pats the mattress. “Movies. What are you in the mood for?”

“Oh. Um.” I scramble beneath the covers when his gaze dips to my legs. It’s even softer than it looks. “Something funny, I guess?”

“Have you seen The Big Lebowski?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think you’ll like it.” He studies me for a minute. “Unless you’d prefer a chick flick?”

“What’s it about?”

Sterling grins. “It’s about The Dude.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

I settle back against the fluffy pillows, unease still swimming within me, while Sterling queues up the movie.

As the opening scene unfolds, I find myself very much doubting Sterling’s taste in movies.

“Just trust me,” he murmurs as he scoots closer to me, easily reading my disbelief.

I try my hardest to give the movie my full attention, but my brain isn’t having it.

Sure, it’s funny, and I laugh when I’m supposed to, but my half-drunk brain is working overtime to process everything.

Not just today, either, but the past month.

The same thoughts have been looping around my brain so often, I’m starting to annoy myself. But how? How did we go from Sterling wanting to destroy me to having movie night in his bed?

I’m so lost in my obsessive internal quest for answers that I don’t even notice the movie’s over.

“So, what’d you think?” Sterling asks.

“It was good,” I answer automatically. It’s not a lie, though—the parts I tuned in for were really good. “Not something I would have picked, but I liked it.”

“I’m glad. Next time you can pick.”

“Next time?” I yawn and snuggle deeper into my pillow, tugging the covers up to my chin.

“This isn’t a one-and-done, baby.”

“You keep calling me that.”

He nods, rustling the sheets. “I do.”

“Why?”

“Time will tell.” He winks, and I swear to God, I don’t know if I want to hug him or suffocate him.

“Or you could tell me. Now.” Another yawn slips past my lips, causing Sterling to frown.

“You’re tired. Maybe tomorrow.”

“How am I supposed to sleep now?” I whine.

“Need me to tuck you in?”

I huff out a laugh. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

“Not tonight.”

“Fine. Then tell me something else before we go to bed.”

“Anything?” he asks, and I nod.

“Is this our thing now?”

I shrug, not that he can see it since I’m wrapped up like a burrito. “Maybe.”

“Okay, fine. I...” He shifts a little closer, leaving only a foot between us. “I don’t think I want to go to work for my family’s firm.”

“Really? Why?”

He smiles at me in a way that sends a whole swarm of butterflies fluttering through me. “Growing up, it was always just...expected. You know? And I guess I haven’t been feeling it for a while—hence not being in law school—but now, I really can’t see myself doing what they do.”

“What do you mean? Like, practicing law in general?”

“No.” He shakes his head as he reaches out and skims his fingers gingerly over my cheek. “I can’t see myself representing people I know are guilty. I can’t see myself helping people like Rob. I used to think the money and prestige more than made up for the work, but now...”

“But now what?” I ask, hardly allowing myself a breath.

“But now, I’m realizing there are more important things in life than money.”

I smile sleepily, halfway wondering if this conversation is actually happening.

“Sleep tight, Emmalyn,” is the last thing I hear before my eyes slip shut and sleep takes me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Emmy

I snuggle closer to the warm body beside me, practically plastering my cheek to the warm, muscled chest. Strong arms wrap around me, making me feel safe and protected.