Sweet Little Nothing

“For sure. Are y’all settling in all right? Getting along okay?”

I step back and let Stella take point. “We are. Emmy and I are a match made in roomie heaven.”

Melanie beams. “Glad to hear it. If you ladies need anything, my number is on the last page in your welcome packet.”

“Perfect. Thanks so much.” Stella walks her back to the door.

Our RA offers us one last smile before stepping back into the hallway.

“She seems nice,” I murmur, hating myself a little for shutting down in her presence.

Stella nods before smoothly changing the subject. “Let me get dressed and we can head to the bookstore together.”

I pop my now cold mug of coffee into the small microwave and sip on it while Stella gets ready. Luckily, she’s fairly low maintenance as well and doesn’t keep me waiting long.

* * *

The sun is high in the sky and shining brightly when we exit the dorm. It’s unseasonably warm out, which is why the chill skittering over my skin has my back stiffening and the fine hairs on my body standing on end.

It’s the same feeling as yesterday, as though someone is watching me. It’s a fight not to frantically search for the prying eye that has my skin feeling like it’s covered in ants, itching and crawling.

“Are you okay?” Stella asks, somehow tuned in to my discomfort.

As discreetly as possible, I survey our surroundings.

Once again, there isn’t anything or anyone suspicious.

I shake off the feeling and force a grin. “Yup, just got a chill.”

“Do we need to go back so you can change?” Stella nods down toward my shorts.

“No, I’m good,” I assure her. After all, paranoia isn’t something you’ll find in the weather app on your phone.

She regards me, doubt darkening her pale eyes, before finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

We fall into step together, making our way across the campus to the student center, where the campus bookstore is housed.

It takes a few minutes for the feeling of being watched to fully dissipate; luckily, Stella is a talker, and her endless chatter quickly distracts me from my demons.

“Do you plan on going to any football games?” she asks as we enter the student center.

“I don’t know. It’s never really been my thing before.” The lie rolls off of my tongue so easily it should worry me. But that part of my life is in the past, locked away under lock and key.

Plus, it’s really only a half-lie. I don’t know football from any other sport, game-wise. I only ever cheered and shook my pom-poms on the sidelines. I was too busy nailing my stunts and routines to ever bother learning the actual game.

“Well, I plan on experiencing every college-y thing there is. So that means you’re going to at least one game with me.”

“Every college-y thing?” I raise a dubious brow.

“Yes. Every.” Stella wags her brows and leans into me. “Including ditching my V-card.”

My eyes widen at her candor, and she laughs.

“Don’t look so scandalized, Emmy. It’s the twenty-first century; women can talk about sex.”

“No, right, of course, they can.” I pinch my eyes closed and shake my head, dispelling the dark thoughts that try rolling in.

“Have you”—she leans in, so only I can hear her—"had sex?"

Dread drops into my gut like an anvil, the weight of it threatening to plummet me straight into the bowels of hell.

Misreading my misery for embarrassment, Stella nudges me with her elbow. “No worries, Emmy. Just because women can talk about sex, doesn’t mean they have to.” She laughs under her breath. “My mom would love you... she says modesty is a woman’s best accessory.”

I offer her a grateful smile at her easy reprieve as we step into the bookstore.

“Let’s split up and grab our books and then afterward, maybe we can get some food?”

“Sounds good.”

Chapter Five

Emmy

Another night of peaceful sleep down, and hopefully a lifetime more to go.

Seriously, a girl could get used to not waking up sobbing or screaming.

Stella has plans with her family today, which leaves me on my own; apparently, they do a big family dinner after church.

Remembering a little on-campus cafe, I decide to throw on a slip dress and a pair of sherpa-lined Van mules. I brush my teeth, spray a little dry shampoo in my hair and call it good.

There’s a slight chill in the air compared to yesterday, but I relish the bite of it against my skin. It reminds me that I’m alive, safe and well.

I let my mind wander as I walk, not really thinking about anything in particular. Which is why it comes as a total surprise when I slam straight into a wall.

No. Not a wall, a man. Unless you count rock-hard muscles as a wall. It certainly feels like one.

“Oh, God. I’m so-I’m so sorry.” I take a step back, but still have to crane my neck to look at the behemoth of a man I just plowed into. “Are you... okay?”