Free Working Girl by A. E. Woodward Page B

you have the chance.” We both know what she means. Big Earl will find out soon enough, and it will change the course of my life without a doubt.

EVEN WITH EVERYTHING GOING ON at home, I manage to make it through my first semester. Not only did I score A’s in all my classes, I’ve been able to keep Emerson at a safe distance. Neither has been easy, but I’m thankful beyond belief when I hand in my Bookkeeping 101 final.
    I share pleasantries with my professor and start making my way out of the lecture hall, but I don’t make it far before I hear my name.
    “Presley!”
    It’s his voice, and for a moment I consider stopping. Instead, I pull out my headphones and pop them into my ears, blasting music in order to drown him out.
    I’m thinking he’s given up as I approach the library, but the hand that grabs my arm lets me know that I am sadly mistaken. Spinning around so that I am face to face with Emerson, I hold my breath. His jaw flexes as though he’s trying to bite back his annoyance and I take out my headphones, stuffing them back into my pocket, studiously avoiding his gaze. “Why are you avoiding me?” he asks, slightly breathless from the chase I just put him on.
    I shrug. “I wasn’t aware that I was avoiding you.” I barely recognize my own voice, dripping with venom.
    “That’s bullshit. You’ve barely said anything to me since the day we went to the movies.”
    My throat dries out and feels like sandpaper as I swallow. How is he so in tune with everything? It’s infuriating. “Well, I have said something to you. Avoiding you would constitute totally ignoring you.”
    “What is it with you?” he asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
    “I could ask you the same.”
    “Jesus Christ, Presley. I just want to get to know you.”
    “Why?”
    “Well, at first it was because I thought you were cute, I’ll admit that. But now . . . well, now I’m not so sure myself.”
    His brutal honesty strikes me. I owe him the same courtesy. Honesty. Be honest. Tell him, Presley . “I’m trying to do you a favor.” I back away from him, hoping to create a little distance between us. His cologne is intoxicating and it’s clouding my mind. “I don’t have time to deal with someone who’s just chasing me.”
    “Who said anything about me chasing you? Yeah, sure, that may have been my game in the past, but maybe—just maybe—I actually see something in you. Something that makes me want to know you. Something that makes me think we can be better, together.”
    Part of me believes him. Or rather, wants to believe him. But the other part of me, the realistic side, knows it’s a crock of shit. A line that I refuse to listen to. “You just like the idea of me—the mystery. You like that I won’t give in to you. Golden boy can’t seem to get the shy girl to give him the time of day. It’s nothing but the thrill of the chase.”
    He shakes his head in disagreement. “Don’t tell me what I’m doing.”
    “Then leave me the fuck alone.” Biting my bottom lip, I turn and bolt into the library before he has the chance to say anything else. Every word I said, I believed. There’s no reason for this nonsense to have gone on this long. Why would a boy who could have any girl he wanted want to get to know me? It just doesn’t make any sense, and I’m not about to take a chance based solely on lust.
    Finding a seat in the back, I throw my stuff on the table, drop into the seat and attempt to calm myself. Somehow he always manages to work me up. It can’t possibly be good for me to react in such a way. But I do because I can’t control my emotions around him.
    Once my breathing steadies, I pull out my book and start doing my reading for class. I attempt to study for the next few hours before I have to take my last final but thanks to Emerson, I can’t seem to focus on anything but him. It’s maddening, and it makes me hate him for real. Even though I keep my attention on the pages in front of me,