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?”
Mr. Muscles grins down at me. “Pretty sure I should be asking you that. You slammed into me pretty hard, sweets.”
I can feel my cheeks heat to near nuclear levels. “I’m fine,” I squeak.
“That you are. Got a name?”
My knees threaten to drop me on my ass, not out of attraction, but fear. All at once, it dawns on me how close this giant, strange man is. He could do anything to me, and I’d be helpless to defend myself. He’s built like a brick shithouse, nearly three times my size.
“Um.” My entire body shakes as I back away from him.
“Hey, whoa.” He holds his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweets. You’re safe.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until he reaches out and wipes away my tears.
Is it possible to die from humiliation? I scoff at myself. I know good and well it’s not, because if it were, I’d have been six feet under long ago.
“S-s-sorry,” I stammer out the single word, wishing like hell I could teleport myself back to the safety of my suite.
Mr. Muscles smiles down at me in a way that’s far too soft for his size. “You’re good, no apologies needed.” He takes a small step back, his hands still held out in front of him. “Let’s try again. I’m Gabe, and you are?”
“Emmy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Emmy.” He reaches out to shake my hand, but seems to think better of it and lets his arm drop before I can clasp his hand.
“It’s, um, nice to meet you, too. And I’m...