Sweet Little Nothing

by Farlow, LK

  “The pantry was always stocked with them when I’d come to visit Rob, but he hated them. So, that left you.”

  “Okay, not so weird.”

  “So, tell me something,” Sterling says.

  “Tell you what?”

  He sips from his still-steaming mug. “I don’t know. Anything. Something true, something meaningful.”

  I don’t know what possesses me to say what I do, but the words topple from my lips before I can think better of them. “I wanted to die. After, I mean. I wanted so badly to stop breathing, to stop being. But coming here, it’s my fresh start... my salvation.”

  Sterling swallows roughly and looks away from me. Immediately, I worry I said too much, that he didn’t mean it when he said I could talk to him. God, I’m such an idiot.

  “I’m glad.”

  Tears prick my eyes. “Glad about what?”

  “That you’re here. Alive, breathing, in Georgia, next to me.”

  “Do...do you mean that?”

  He hesitates ever so slightly before reaching out and grabbing my hand. “Yeah, Emmalyn, I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Emmy

  “So, Sterling is meeting us at the game?” Stella asks, her back to me as she digs through her closet.

  We’re in her room getting ready for our first game of the season. Well, she’s getting ready—I’m spinning circles in her desk chair, questioning my entire existence.

  “Emmy!”

  “Huh?” I plant my feet, halting the chair’s rotation.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Nope,” I say.

  “I asked if Sterling was meeting us at the game?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure.”

  “He should tailgate with us. Text him.”

  “Uh, I don’t have his number.”

  “Really? It’s not on your syllabus?”

  “Nope, just his email, and before you even suggest it, I am not emailing him.”

  “Fine. Spoilsport. Do you need to shower?”

  I shake my head. “I did last night.”

  “Okay. Well, I’m going to. Be back!” She flits out of the room like a fairy on crack and I venture out behind her, planting myself on the couch with a cup of coffee while I wait.

  If I lived with anyone else, I’d finish getting myself ready, but I know Stella will want to have a say in everything from my outfit to how I wear my hair.

  So, reality television and caffeine it is.

  I’m half an episode deep into Alaskan Bush People when my phone vibrates on the coffee table. It must be Gabe or Zach, because the only other person who would text me is currently covered in suds.

  I pause my show and grab my phone, unlocking it and dragging down my notifications. I tap on the text alert without paying the sender much mind.

  Mommy Dearest: I assume you’re settled in?

  No hello, no how are you—nothing.

  As I read her text again, I regret even picking up my phone. One of these days, I’m going to block her number. The only reason I haven’t already, is there’s a small, foolish part of me hoping she’ll have a change of heart and start acting like my mom again.

  Me: I’ve been here almost a month.

  Mommy Dearest: Are you taking your meds?

  Me: As prescribed.

  Unlike you, I think bitterly to myself.

  After Rob assaulted me, I was diagnosed as clinically depressed with a heaping side of anxiety and a dash of PTSD.

  I was distraught upon my diagnosis and utterly terrified of meds. Not entirely surprising, after seeing mood stabilizers all but turn my mother into a mindless Stepford wife.

  Luckily my therapy team was able to teach me that, when prescribed and administered properly, meds can be a good thing... a glorious thing.

  I still have my good days and my bad. Sometimes, I even think I can skip a day when I’m feeling particularly great. But deep down, I know I can’t... so I don’t.

  Mommy Dearest: There’s no need to be snappy, Emmalyn. Also, talked to Robert, and we decided it would be best for you to remain on campus over the holidays. You understand, right?

  I understand you couldn’t pay me to come back there. That’s what I understand.

  Me: Sure. Got it.

  Mommy Dearest: Oh, and, Emmalyn, please don’t cause any more trouble. Keep your nose clean and your legs closed.

  Frustrated tears dot my lashes and hurt grips my heart. A mother should support her child, fight for them. A mother should be a child’s number one advocate, and mine... she threw me under the bus in favor of keeping her rich and shiny lifestyle.

  “Emmy, you okay?” Stella asks.

  I sniffle. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were done showering.”

  “Just got out.” She looks at me hard, studying my face. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I shrug. “I will be.”

  “Well, you’re in luck! I know just the thing to take your mind off of whatever’s got you down.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yes! I’m going to do your makeup!” Her smile is megawatt and her tone pure joy.

  Who am I to pop her bubble? “Sounds great, Stell.”

  If possible, her smile grows wider. “You called me Stell! A nickname. We really are besties now!”

  “And we weren’t before? Rude.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Let me get dressed and then it’s on!”

  “Okay.” I click off the television and haul myself up from the couch. “Want me to come to your room when I’m done?”

  “Yes. Oh! Wait!” Stella holds up a finger and then darts into her room. She returns before I can so much as blink. “Wear this.”

  “What is it?” I shake out the silky material and grin when I see what she’s handed me. “Where did you get this?”

  “Zach had them made.”

  I snort out a laugh and clutch the jersey to my chest. “Of course he did.”

  “Just wait until you see them all together.”

  “Oh, God.”

  Stella shoos me into my room, where I change into my jersey. I layer it over a white turtleneck, also from Stella, and pair it with distressed jeans and my favorite knee-high boots.

  “You’re not going to do anything crazy, right?” I ask, stepping into Stella’s room.

  We’re dressed similarly, except she’s wearing Uggs and a royal blue zip-up jacket over her jersey.

  “Of course not.” She pats the seat of her desk chair. “Now, sit.”

  Stella gets to work, slathering my face with God only knows what. Before Rob, I loved makeup, but now, I typically stick to the basics. It makes me wonder how far Stella will try and push.

  After about fifteen minutes, she steps back and appraises her work. “Perfect.”

  “Can I look?”

  She passes me a mirror, and I’m pleasantly surprised with the outcome. I look like a slightly more polished version of me, but with my eyes painted Wildcat gold and lined in Central Valley’s signature blue. She even drew a little paw print on my right cheek.

  “I love it.”

  She beams. “Give me twenty and we’ll head out.”

  * * *

  “It’s a beautiful day for some ball,” Stella says as we step outside.

  “Cold though,” I mutter, rubbing my hands together for a little warmth.

  “You’ll get used to it.” She links her arm with mine. “Where are we meeting Zach again?”

  “He said at the wildcat statue.”

  “Perfect.” She tilts her head to look at me. “You think any of his friends are single?”

  I laugh under my breath. “You’re so boy crazy.”

  Stella scoffs. “False. I’m only a little boy crazy. You would be too, if you were me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get laid with an older brother as protective as mine? Orion is like a freaking pit-bull with Spidey senses. Impossible! Hence how I’m still a freaking virgin!”

  “Deep breaths, girl. You’re not go
ing to die with your V-card.”

  “I just wanna know what it’s like, you know?”

  I try to inhale, but it’s as if there’s an anvil on my chest. “No, not really. My only experience was torture than anything else.”

  “Oh, shit. Babe.” Stella stops and pulls me into a crushing hug. “I am so thoughtless. I am so sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I tell her, mostly meaning it.

  It’s not that I’m against sex or anything.

  I’m just petrified by the thought of actually doing it, by the thought of ever willingly being so vulnerable with a man.

  It’s really a moot point though, because after Rob, what man would want me anyway? I’m the definition of used goods.

  “Twinkies!” Zach’s booming voice cuts through my melancholy. “Well, no. What do you call three twins?”

  “Triplets,” Stella deadpans, making us all laugh.

  “Seriously, these shirts are gold.” Zach’s grin is so infectious, I find myself cheesing right alongside him.

  “We need a pic!” Stella exclaims, and Zach grabs a random passerby to snap one.

  The front of our jerseys all read “Ooh that 99, he’s so fine” with a wildcat silhouette. The back has Gabe’s name across the shoulders in glittery gold block letters.

  “They are perfect,” I say as we scroll through the photos.

  “Right?” Zach laughs. “Gabe’s going to die.”

  “He doesn’t know?” Stella asks.

  “Nope.”

  “This is amazing!”

  “C’mon, ladies.” Zach wraps an arm around each of us. “There is tailgating to be done.” He guides us over to where his friends are already partying hard.

  “Ooh, cornhole!” Stella murmurs as we pass a group of fit-looking guys tossing beanbags. “You wanna play?”

  “Eh.” I shrug. “Hand-eye coordination’s not really my thing.” You’d think as a former cheerleader it would be, but nope. It seems that was the only exception to the rule.

  “Do you mind if I go?”

  I nudge her with my hip. “Don’t let me stop you from having a good time!”

  Stella studies me. “You sure?”

  Zach answers her before I can. “Girl, go. I’ll keep our Emmy company.”

  Stella’s pink-glossed lips tip up into a huge smile. “Be back soon!” She practically skips away, giddy as can be for her first college football game experience.

  “Feeling a little overwhelmed?” Zach asks. He is way too perceptive for my liking. “Let’s sit.” He weaves through the crowd, leading me to a cluster of chairs.

  Or I’m not hiding the anxiety clawing at my skin as well as I thought I was. “Maybe a little.” I scan the area, looking for Stella. Sure enough, she’s having the time of her life with the cornhole guys.

  A particularly muscled specimen currently has his front molded to her back under the guise of helping her with her toss.

  Judging from the megawatt grin she’s wearing, she’s loving every second, the shameless little flirt.

  “You want me to grab you a drink? Water, Coke?”

  “Water would be great,” I say, even though I’m not particularly excited about Zach leaving me on my own.

  Maybe I’ll just offer to tag along...

  But before I get a chance to offer, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Yo! Renski!”

  In the blink of an eye, a ginger-haired guy pops up out of seemingly nowhere. “Yes?”

  “Get the lady and me a couple bottles of water.”

  “On it!” He gives a jaunty salute before hustling away in search of our drinks.

  “How’d you manage that?”

  Zach bounces his shoulders and smiles. “Must be my award-winning personality.”

  “Must be.”

  “Back!” Renski hollers, a condensation-covered water bottle in each hand. “Need anything else?”

  “Nah, we’re good, my man,” Zach says, politely dismissing him.

  “Thank you,” I call after his retreating form.

  Without looking back, he flashes a peace sign our way over his shoulder.

  “Now, drink up so we can calm those nerves and get you in the Wildcat spirit.”

  I shake my head and crack open my bottle of water, sipping from it slowly.

  Zach does his best to entertain me, but eventually, I send him off to have fun. Just because I’d rather sit and chill doesn’t mean I want to be a wet blanket for my friends. They should still have a good time.

  Plus, this is prime people watching if there ever was any. All walks of student-life are here and en masse. It’s crazy the way everyone sort of meshes together in a big show of school spirit. Stoners, jocks, nerds—people who wouldn’t be caught dead together in high school—are all here.

  I’m deeply invested in the Stella-cornhole saga when my phone buzzes in my pocket. After my unexpected and supremely unwanted exchange with my mother earlier, I’m hesitant to check it again.

  Another alert buzzes through, and I decide at the very least I can set it to silent.

  But when I check the screen, the messages are from an unknown number.

  Unknown: Why do you look so miserable?

  Unknown: I don’t like his name on your body.

  What in the ever-loving hell?

  My hands shake as I tap out a reply.

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: Who do you think it is?

  I suck in air through my teeth as my vision swims.

  Me: Answer my question.

  Unknown: Who do you want it to be?

  It feels like there’s a hummingbird trapped inside of my chest, my heart is beating so hard.

  Me: This isn’t funny.

  Unknown: It is a little. Come on. You know who this is...take a guess. If you’re right, I’ll give you a prize.

  Me: Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing. But I’m about to block your number.

  Unknown: Come on, little mouse, live a little.

  Oh. My. God.

  Instantly, my entire body relaxes. And while that’s a concerning reaction in and of itself, I’m choosing to focus on the positives right now.

  Me: Sterling.

  “You got it, baby.”

  My eyes fly up, and sure enough, Sterling Abbot stands before me, looking like a god.

  “You really freaked me out.” I glance down at my lap, where my hands are trembling. “I–I thought it was... not many people have this number...” I trail off, unable to bring myself to say his name.

  But Sterling knows exactly whose name was poised on my tongue. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath before reaching down and hauling me up from my chair and into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Emmalyn. I wasn’t thinking.”

  It feels weird, him holding me like this, out in the open for all to see. But more than that, it feels... right. Like his strong arms were meant for me.

  Which is insane, because I’m still not sure he’s not playing some sick, twisted game with me.

  “It’s okay,” I mumble the words against his chest, secretly loving the way the hard planes of his body feel pressed against mine.

  What is wrong with me?

  Eventually, Sterling pulls away from me. “Truly, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I-I overreacted.”

  His gray eyes flash with some unknown, fleeting emotion. “I’ll be more careful, okay?”

  I try to smile, but then, a thought pops to the forefront of my mind. “Hey, Sterling... how did you get my number?”

  “A magician never reveals his tricks.” He winks.

  “Sterling—” I press, but Zach walks up and interrupts.

  “You gonna introduce me to your friend, Emmy?”

  “Oh, um.” His request flusters me, because I know that he knows exactly whose arms I was just in. “This is... um...”

  “Sterling Abbot,” he says, reaching past me to shake Zach’s hand. “And you are?” There’s an edge to Sterling’s voice I don’t fu
lly understand. If he were anyone else, I would call it jealousy. But that’s preposterous.

  “Zach Williams.” He clasps Sterling’s hand in his own, unflinchingly.

  “Well, Zach Williams, tell me, how do you know my girl?”

  A whole swarm of butterflies take flight within me.

  No! Stop it! You aren’t his anything, much less his girl.

  I open my mouth to tell him just that, but he wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me into his side.

  “We’re old friends,” Zach murmurs cryptically, not giving an inch.

  Sterling’s chiseled jaw clenches. “As long as you’re only friends.”

  Finally, Zach cracks, and laughter pours from him. “Drop your club, caveman. I’d be more likely to go for you than Emmy. You know, if I weren’t already in a committed relationship.”

  “Oh my God, Emmy!” Stella squeals as she stumbles into our little bubble of testosterone and awkwardness, effectively popping it. “You have to come play—oh, hello there.” She drags her glimmering gaze over him, eagerly noting his possessive hold on me. “You must be Sterling.”

  As soon as she speaks, I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Now he knows I’ve talked about him to her. How mortifying.

  “In the flesh.”

  “I’m Stella, Emmy’s suitemate.” Her eyes dart down from his to where our bodies touch. “What’s up with this?” she asks, gesturing vaguely toward us.

  “Just a little show of masculine prowess,” Zach replies, his voice full of humor.

  “Well, whatever. I’m hungry.”

  “Grill’s this way.” Zach nods his head, signaling us to follow him.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask Sterling.

  He drags his teeth over his lower lip as he regards me. “Sure.”

  “Okay.” I chuckle nervously. “Um, I think they have burgers and stuff.”

  His steel eyes flare with heat. “Not what I’m craving, but it’ll do... for now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Emmy

  During the first quarter, I try to keep my focus on the game, on Gabe and his teammates, but my mind is too busy obsessing over Sterling and his odd behavior.

  All day he’s been glued to my side, attentive and caring and charming. It’s honestly freaking me out. Even my brain is starting to question if this is all a game to him. The more time we spend together, the more I find myself wanting to believe him.