Page 24 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

My cheeks ache with the smile that has been plastered on my face since I left Derek’s class almost three hours ago with my brat flag waving in full wind. I’m surprised the glare he pinned me with didn’t spontaneously develop that laser vision thing Superman has and incinerate me on the spot.

The memory is going to live rent free in my head for the rest of my life.

I walked down the staircase and made direct eye contact with him as I pulled my hair out from under the straps of my backpack, then gave him a peace sign as I reached the bottom and turned to follow the flow of the rest of the students exiting the room.

I have never, ever, in my life thrown a peace at someone, but it felt perfect in the moment.

His hand twitching by his side, clearly fighting the urge to reach out to me—or spank me—was the cherry on top.

I knew he wouldn’t break and call me out in front of everyone. Derek isn’t the type of man to cave to anyone. Especially if he thinks they have done him wrong. But I haven’t. I know I haven’t. Up until this point, I have been nothing but his perfect baby girl.

Too bad they had to go and ruin my streak.

But my absolutely favorite moment was when Derek allowed the room some time to work through a few exercises on our own.

Will, who had conveniently retaken the seat behind mine, took the opportunity to tap on my shoulder.

I had, obviously, turned around and given him my attention, full wattage smile and all.

The irritated stare that was waiting for me when I turned back around was pure magic.

When the class resumed, I took every opportunity to ask questions, calling them out loud enough that it would be impossible for Derek—excuse me, Professor King—to ignore.

There were even moments when I think I surprised him with my knowledge of the material, bringing up alternate methods and asking for further explanations.

If the man doesn’t already suffer from migraines, I’m sure he has one now. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the throbbing vein in his forehead never quite went away during the entire class.

The assumption I made that he’d warned the others, when it was clear that I was not the recipient of his text message, turned out to be correct.

Hudson took one look at me as I entered his class, his icy gaze raking me from head to toe, before he turned back to his laptop.

His lack of reaction told me he’d been prepared for my outfit.

If I hadn’t glanced back over my shoulder as I walked up to my seat and saw the way he ran his hand through his perfectly styled hair, I would have been left with the impression that I’d had little effect on him. Even now, almost two hours later, he barely looks at anyone on this side of the room.

It’s taking everything I have not to swing my legs beneath me with how giddy I am at his attempts to keep his reactions in check. The reactions from both men, really.

I fucking love it.

I’m not taking the same tactic of polite interruption with Hudson, however. My plan has been to play it meek and mild. I haven’t asked a single question in the last two hours, simply taken notes and been a perfect student. Drawing zero attention in my direction.

Nothing to see here.

I glance at the time—ten minutes to go. Last week, he dismissed class early to allow anyone with questions to come talk to him. I’m going to use that time to slip away.

As quietly as possible, I start putting a few things away, prepping for my easy getaway—straight out the door that is only a few steps down from me.

“That’s it for this week. Please make sure you do the required reading. It is listed on the course work page, as well as some additional reading for anyone who is finding the content riveting,” Hudson calls out, a hint of humor in his voice.

There are a few laughs from the students, which turns to chatter and the rustling of things being put away. Immediately, I shut my laptop and start sliding it into my backpack, but before I can get the zipper shut, Hudson’s voice cuts through the noise again.

“Could I please see the following students? Benjamin Trenton. Alana Cruz. Jesús Garcia. Emery Nicholas. Gabriella Perez. Thank you.”

Hearing my name in his voice sends a surge of achy warmness from my stomach and up into my chest, but that is quickly ruined by the tiny wave of panic that he is actually about to talk to me. Apparently, the ignore-Emmy game is over.

Okay, fine, I can handle this. No, not just handle. I can do this. If he wants to talk to me, then it’s going to be on my terms. No backing me into a corner or making me feel small.

Nope.

I yank on the zipper of my bag a little more forcibly than necessary, and then I wait for the room to empty, occasionally moving my legs to the side as people scoot past me.

From my spot, I watch as the other requested students rush down to the front of the room and play teacher’s pet, but fuck that.

I’m not going to stand around, waiting for my turn to speak to him.

The asshole would probably make me stand there, waiting until the end, if I went down there. Knowing him, he’d get off on it too. Me, standing there all awkward, waiting like a good little girl.

Yeah, that is so not happening.

So, I lean back in my seat, making myself comfortable, crossing my arms and generally putting out an I don’t give two fucks attitude. Once the room is empty, Hudson finally deigns to look up from his laptop at the group of students desperately waiting for his attention.

Okay, maybe not desperately . Still, they’re all eager for his attention.

He scans the students waiting in front of him with a smile on his face, which falters when it is clear I’m not among his adoring fans. An elastic band snaps around my heart when his head whips up in my direction, his eyes narrowing when he is greeted with my smirk.

Sure, it might be a wobbly smirk, because oh shit balls , I think I might throw up from the irritation in his gaze, but he won’t be able to tell from this distance. He continues to stare, seemingly trying to use telekinesis or some shit to get me down there.

I raise an eyebrow and hope he can’t see how my hands are trembling against my biceps. His eyes rove all over the half of my body that isn’t blocked by the table and seat in front of me. I let him have his fill. Because this is the whole point, right? To let them know what they are missing out on.

Hudson doesn’t call me out. He starts having one-on-one conversations with each of the students, and I simply wait. It seems they’d actually needed to talk to him, and he was making this shit up to get me to stay back. One by one, they file out of the room, until it’s just the two of us.

The last student, Gabriella, I think, glances at me with confusion before walking through the door. When it’s shut and we’re alone, Hudson finally looks back to me.

“Could you please come down here? I’d prefer not to yell what I’d like to ask you.” He walks around his podium and does that sit-lean thing against the edge of the table, hands clasped over his lap.

Whatever emotion is on his face, it’s hard to read. I haven’t seen it on him before, but it’s almost like he is nervous.

But nervous about what? That I won’t come to him? That I will come to him? That he’ll be caught talking to me? What would the issue with that be? I’m his student. He could be helping me out with my additional reading or whatever.

I force myself to keep my breathing even while every single one of my organs is vibrating. I uncross my legs, stand, and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I don’t rush as I carefully fluff my hair around my shoulders, then make my way down to him.

I have a huge lack of confidence in my voice coming out steady, so I stop a few feet away, one hand holding the strap of my bag, and remain silent. Neither of us speaks for a few seconds, my nerves ratcheting up with every second of silence that passes.

Hudson stares at me, his gaze tracing every inch of my face and body. Tension takes over his face the longer he looks, until he finally turns away, letting out a breath.

My throat feels thick and uncomfortable, and I honestly can’t stand here anymore, being so damn fucking close but unable to touch. So I do the only thing I can—I turn to leave.

I only make it a few steps away when a hand closes around my wrist and I’m pulled to a stop. “Kitten, wait, I…”

My entire being freezes over and defrosts within the two heartbeats it takes for him to say those three words. His warm chest presses into my back, and all I want in the entire world is to feel him wrapped around my body.

Slowly, I turn to face him, heart in my throat, and I know everything I am feeling is written all over my face. But I don’t care. He called me kitten. Not Emmy. Not Emery.

Kitten. His kitten.

Lines have formed between his brows. I reach up and smooth them away, both of us standing in this bubble that is just for us, just for this one moment.

“How are you? Are you okay?” His words are a whispered request, tinged with hints of pain and frustration that is mirrored by the sadness in his blue eyes.

I match his whisper, mostly because tears are burning my throat and I don’t think I can find my voice, anyway. “I’m…I’m okay. I wasn’t at first, but I’m working on finding my happiness again.”

Not a lie. I’ll have my happiness again once I have them back in my life the way I want them.

Hudson nods as he slides his hand down my arm until his fingers wrap around my hand in a loose hold. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You are supposed to be ours.”

Pain pulses from my center all throughout my body, and I have to swallow several times to get a response out. “I want to be yours. I’ll do anything to be yours again.”

Hudson closes his eyes, shielding the ice blue from me, and takes several deep breaths. When he opens them, they are closed off from me again, sheets of one-way mirror glass, and he takes two steps back, our fingers breaking apart.

I let my hand fall back to my side.

“We have seven rewards left to gift you, and I was hoping you would allow me to take you to purchase a few items whenever you have some free time,” Hudson states, his voice the least animated I have ever heard it.

He stares at me, waiting for a response, but if he thinks he can be an asshole, toying with my emotions like that, and then cut me off, he can think again.

I lean back on one leg, resting my weight on my hip and return his stare. “Was there a question in there you needed me to answer?”

His lips purse, and there is a flicker of…something before he overly enunciates each word in his response. “Emery, will you come shopping with me?”

More one-on-one time with him? Even if he is going to treat me like trash, I’m taking it. I need as much time with him as I can get to make sure my plan works. Wearing each of them down until they can’t say no to me.

I grin. “I’d love to come shopping with you.”

His smile is a flat line. “Thank you. Does this weekend work?”

I pretend to contemplate it. Technically, I am free this weekend, but sticking to the plan is more important right now. “Actually, I have plans this weekend. Does next Tuesday afternoon work for you? I have class in the morning.”

Those icy blues narrow in on me, and it is very clear he wants to know what my plans are, but like hell will I tell him. That would ruin all the fun.

“Next Tuesday afternoon works. I’ll pick you up from the parking lot near the dorms.”

Nodding, I take a few backward steps. “See you then, Professor Gold.” I really purr that last bit, because I can.

He shakes his head, and I pretend to ignore the smile that forms on his face as he turns to start gathering his things. Grinning uncontrollably, I head toward the door, but as I place my palm on the cool wood, I turn back because there’s something I need to tell him.

“Thank you for the teddy bear. I named him Blue, because of the heart.” I reach up and bop my own nose.

Hudson looks up from his bag, recognition on his face.

Smirking, I raise my free hand and give him a spirit finger wave. “See you next week, professor.”

I push through the door and leave, the mystery of who is sending the rewards solved.