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TRENT: I think she’s here to ruin my life again.
It’s funny that all three of us have such different perspectives on the situation. This morning, we kinda went into beast mode when we saw her. I felt it happen, and I just let it be. We didn’t have a whole lot of time to talk about it, so I’m sure we all went to our first classes in a daze, like I was in Economics. But looking at the onslaught of texts that keep coming, it’s clear that West wants Emma out and Trent is still mad as hell at her. And why shouldn’t he be? What Emma did was completely fucked up. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. There were even some things in our past, some things Emma said that made me wonder about her.
So why is it that having her sitting next to me gives me goosebumps? I’m not even kidding. There are prickles on my skin, and the smell of her is making everything a haze. I’ve always known that I’m seriously attracted to Emma. Maybe freakishly so, but I’ve done my best to keep this under control. Sometimes my best hasn’t been good enough, I’ll admit, but I try to be a gentleman. That’s just the way I was raised. I’ve been taught to squash my baser animal instincts, however strong these instincts might be.
Looking up at Professor Sykes, I can see that he’s already getting into the subject of primatology, which is something I’ve always been interested in. I take out a notepad too and mimic what Emma is doing, because maybe she has the right idea.
Just try to distract yourself from the person sitting next to you, even though they make your heart pound.
Instead of taking real notes, I find myself scribbling on the paper. It’s probably because I can’t seem to form a coherent thought. I’m painfully aware of every move Emma makes—every time she shifts in her chair, or even worse, when she brings the back of her pen to her mouth and bites on it.
Fuck, this is driving me insane.
Then I feel her glancing to the side and watching me while I’m making notes. When she turns back to Professor Sykes, I do the same, turning ever so slightly to look at her. This dance of subtle stares continues for a while, and that’s when it dawns on me that Emma is just as affected by sitting next to me as I am by sitting next to her. There’s a weird electricity that I remember feeling before, back when we were in high school. I never told the guys about this chemistry, because secretly, I could tell that they all had a thing for her. Did they have that same spark with her that I had? Clearly, that spark hasn’t gone away, because my body keeps reacting to Emma’s every move.
Each time that I look over at her, she seems tense.
My presence makes her tense.
That realization sends two conflicting impulses spiraling through me. In a way, I want to comfort her. Emma was my friend once, after all, and I care for her. I don’t want her to feel like shit. But the baser animal in me, the one I try not to listen to, says otherwise. That part of me wants to make her as physically tense as possible. In fact, that part of me wants to make her miserable.
Trying to clear my mind, I scrub a hand down my face and shake my head. When I glance down, I catch a glimpse of Emma’s thighs beneath the fold out desk she’s resting her elbows on. She’s wearing these white shorts that I had noticed this morning because they look fantastic on her. But there’s something about seeing her bare thighs right there beside me that makes me feel like a madman.
I brush my hand through my hair, trying to get ahold of my senses, and finally tell myself in no uncertain terms that I’m not allowed to look down at Emma’s thighs like that ever again. At least not in class, not unless I plan on flunking out of university in my second year.
The texts keep coming from the guys, and I push my phone away, no longer in the mood to engage in it. It’s cruelty, the things they’re saying. I mean, some of it’s funny and makes me laugh, but it also makes me cringe. Emma probably doesn’t deserve all of this, even though it gives us satisfaction to dish out our punishment. Trent is the most upset of all, and that’s entirely understandable, considering his history with her. But sometimes that dude seriously scares me with his vindictiveness. West too, for that matter.
We butted heads about it a few times in high school, but in the end, I backed up my boy. Because even if he took shit too far, Emma’s the one who started it. She fired the first fucking shot.
As if she can hear the thoughts bouncing
around in my head, Emma glances at me again, then crosses her legs and goes back to taking notes. The movement draws my eye, and I look down at those legs once more.
Shit, now I seriously won’t be able to concentrate. Did she do it on purpose?
Emma doesn’t seem like the type that purposefully tries to taunt guys, and honestly, it makes her more attractive. There’s something unassuming about her, like not only does she not know how gorgeous she is, she actually tries to play down her looks to be as plain as possible. It doesn’t fucking work though. It’s not like she can wash away her natural beauty like some girls wash away makeup.
She catches me looking down at her legs this time, and a flush tints her cheeks, which makes me grin wickedly. I like seeing her flustered like that, but I want to reassure her at the same time that everything is okay. God, I’m a fucking mess.
As the class continues, I watch as West glares up at the clock and Trent types furiously on his phone. Emma is focused on her notepad and I stretch out my arms and place my hands behind my head, like I’m ready to take a nap. Maybe Professor Sykes and Anthropology aren’t going to be enough to capture my attention after all.
Professor Sykes finally wraps up his lecture and dismisses us, and the guys and I gather our stuff and head out the door, but not until Emma leaves first. It’s this thing with us; we like to be behind her. It’s a power thing, for sure, but it just feels so satisfying. Once we’re outside, Emma rushes away—and that’s when Trent throws the first barb of the afternoon.
“If we make you this uncomfortable now, you don’t stand a chance,” he calls with a laugh, and she doesn’t even turn, just walks even faster. I see that Trent is picking up his pace too, like he’s gonna follow her, and I put up my hand to stop him.
“Let her go, dude.” I shake my head, thinking it’s too much too soon.
There’s confusion in Trent’s eyes, but a good feeling comes over me. I think it’s the right approach for now. Just let her go. No need to rush in.
And really, the more that I think about it, we just need to leave high school back in high school. It’s best for all of us to move on.
5
Emma
The next few weeks are… surprising.
That first day, I couldn’t get out of my mind the fact that having the guys at Clearwater University was going to totally ruin my life. But the strangest thing happened after that; I began to thrive. I mean, not thrive in the “I’m acing all my classes and making heaps of friends” sense, but I am actually doing pretty well in my classes. I’m staying focused, and I’m meeting a few new friends here and there. A lot of that is probably thanks to Leslie, who just so happens to be a social butterfly.
