Love and the Library

by Lauren Connolly

  As Hannah stares at me with a new shine in her gaze, my heart gives a quick kick, and I hide my grin with another sip of hot chocolate.

  HANNAH

  “Get out of my way, asshole!”

  “I hope that’s not how you normally drive. Road rage isn’t healthy.”

  I give Nathan an elbow in his side for his comments.

  “Hey! Cheater!”

  Maybe so, but it worked. On the TV screen, my colorful car swerves around his, and I’ve got a straight shot to the finish line. Unfortunately, I don’t notice the little blue shell his character has tucked in his back pocket. Seconds before I claim my victory, my car gets creamed out of nowhere, spinning into the digital grass as Nathan lets out a maniacal laugh.

  “So close! I was so close!” When I shove him this time, it’s friendlier, and he chuckles all the while. It’s probably best not to get too worked up about video games.

  My search for a movie to watch got sidetracked when I noticed a game system tucked into the corner.

  He pulled it out, revealing an old Nintendo Gamecube, and glanced between the purple game system and me. “You wanna play?”

  His hopeful expression sold it for me. We settled on a classic game I at least had some experience with, even as a novice gamer—Mario Kart.

  “You’re getting better, Shorty.”

  He goes to pick up his mug, only to realize it’s empty. His disappointed frown makes my cheeks tingle. I notice that his beer has been sitting, untouched, for the last hour. Looks like my innocent, underage ways are the real winner tonight.

  “Quit pouting. I can make another batch.”

  The smile spreading across his face freezes when the door slams open. A beefy guy stumbles inside with a scantily clad girl wrapped around him. They stutter to a halt when they catch sight of us.

  “Hey, man! Looks like we got the same idea, huh?”

  The guy, who I assume is Nathan’s roommate, nods his head my way while simultaneously cupping his companion’s generous butt. It’s a very nice ass, all round and perky, and the girl giggles happily at the gesture, so I don’t let myself get offended.

  That doesn’t mean I’m okay with our video games and hot chocolate ramping up into a Friday night grope-fest. When I glance back at Nathan, I try to convey this message with a you’d better not have the same idea brow raise.

  His apologetic grimace/eye-roll combo sets me at ease.

  “Hannah, this is my roommate, Bobby. Bobby, this is my friend Hannah. And who’s your friend?” Nathan asks the last question with an evil grin.

  I’m confused until I notice Bobby’s eyes darting between the girl on his hip and the rest of us, a tinge of panic widening his eyes.

  “Uh, yeah. Introduce yourself, babe.”

  This douche doesn’t even know her name.

  Not that she realizes. Or maybe she doesn’t care.

  “I’m Mary.” She waves and then tugs on the loop of Bobby’s jeans as she glances toward the back of the suite where the bedrooms are.

  Girl knows what she wants.

  “See ya, man.”

  The couple disappears, their exit emphasized by a door slamming.

  Nathan stands up smoothly, grabbing my empty mug on the way. “Sorry about that. He didn’t used to be such an asshole.”

  I follow him to the kitchen. “What happened? Did he get bit by a radioactive asshole spider or something?”

  Nathan snorts. “Nah. He just started going to the gym more often at the end of last year. Lost some weight, gained some muscle. Girls are interested in him now, and he’s living it up.”

  Instead of grabbing the milk from the fridge for another round of drinks, he rinses our mugs out and leaves them in the sink. The sting of disappointment is so strong that I rub my sternum. I thought we were having a fun time.

  “You don’t want any more?” I pluck the bag of cocoa mix off the counter, trying not to sound desperately hopeful. But I can’t help it. This is the most fun I’ve had on a Friday night this whole year, and I’m scared that when it’s over, I’ll have to go back to my boring loner existence.

  This past year, I’ve been fighting off the crushing loneliness of not having any close friends—or even casual friends—to spend my time with. All the hours Alexis and I spent together don’t seem to matter to her now that she has Mitchell. My other two roommates are members of the field hockey team and only spend enough time in our dorm to shower after practice before they’re off again.

  Trying to branch out, I went to the first meeting of the university’s book club back in the beginning of the fall. When suggestions were asked for, I pulled out some of my favorite novels that Stella had given me.

  “Vampires? Seriously? We’re not in high school anymore.”

  After that comment—from the president of the club, no less—I officially felt unwelcome.

  Then, there was the party where I couldn’t find any nonalcoholic beverages to drink, and twenty minutes in, some sweaty guy decided to use my favorite sneakers as barf target practice. No one wants to have anything to do with the girl who smells like vomit.

  So, my attempts at socialization were rebuffed or ended in disaster.

  But I’m a strong, independent woman, I reasoned. Who cares if I don’t have a tribe of people here?

  College is a blip on the screen of my life. I’ll be done in no time. When I want to talk to someone, I can FaceTime with one of my childhood best friends. That’s all I need to get through the next few years.

  I almost had myself convinced. But being home last week for the wedding, surrounded by relatives and hometown friends, I got a strong sense of belonging. It made me realize how depressed I’d started to become here, hours away from my loved ones with no surrogate family in sight. Even though I enjoy my classes and the Virginia weather greets me like a warm blanket, those aren’t enough anymore.

  I need more from the place I’m living in. I need a tribe.

  But Nathan shakes his head. “Better not. You won’t want—”

  Whatever he’s about to say gets cut off by a loud male moan that is barely muted by the wall in between us and his roommate’s bedroom. When a female gasp follows right after, Nathan winces, his eyes apologetic.

  Suddenly, I understand his rushed clean-up and have to press my knuckles against my lips to keep the laughter inside.

  “Now, you know why I study in the library all the time.” He hurries back to the main room, scooping up my bag and holding it on his shoulder while I tie the laces on my sneakers.

  My fingers quiver from contained giggles, making my knots sloppy. Once we’re out the door, I let the laughter flow free.

  “Poor Lucifer.” I pat his shoulder as the chuckles shade my falsely sympathetic words. “The sex noises too loud for you to concentrate?”

  When I go to slip my fingers under the strap so I can take my bag from him, he bats my hand away.

  “I’ve got it, Shorty. And, yes, actually. It’s not easy to plan a lesson for six-year-olds when your roommate is plowing away on the other side of the wall. Surprisingly, those two things don’t mix.”

  I give up trying to get my bag back, instead tucking my hands into my sweatshirt pouch to keep them warm in the coolness of the spring night.

  “Too bad they don’t get sex ed at that age. Then, it’d be perfect inspiration.”

  Nathan’s glare has me cackling, and I can’t help teasing him the rest of the walk. He takes all my good-natured ribbing with fake scowls that do little to hide the involuntary curve of his lips.

  We’re almost to my dorm when I have to stop, a nagging pain in my foot growing to a point that I can’t ignore it anymore.

  “Wait a second. There’s a rock in my shoe.” I hobble over to a half-wall meant to keep students off the pristine grass, hopping up to sit on it while I reach for my sneaker.

  Nathan beats me there. Kneeling in front of me, he clasps my heel with one of his long-fingered hands and uses the other to untie my halfheartedly tied bow.
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  The gesture is intimate, and in my panic, I do what comes naturally—make a joke.

  “Are you trying to Cinderella me?”

  Probably my turning a fairy-tale character into a verb is what has him pausing in the act of sliding off my purple Converse.

  Through his unfairly thick lashes, he stares up at me for a moment before answering, “If you mean, force you to marry me and serve as my queen if this shoe fits, then yes. Yes, I am.” His playful grin sets the same hot tingles shooting through me that his mysterious Italian words did earlier.

  Nathan is flirting with me.

  My sister says I’m dense when it comes to recognizing it, but this time, I’m almost certain.

  Why else would he invite me out on a Friday? Joke with me? Touch me?

  This has to be flirting.

  Right?

  “Well, we both know what I’ll demand as my throne if I’m to serve as queen.” I give him my haughtiest look. I don’t know if he finds my joking response equally as flirtatious, but it’s all I’ve got in my arsenal, so he’ll have to take it or leave it.

  “Ah, yes. The coveted chair. Well, if you are my true queen, you may have whatever your heart desires.” He upends my shoe, a pebble—too small to rightfully cause the amount of pain it was—tumbling free. “The moment of truth.”

  I can’t help my eye roll, even as his antics delight me.

  And of course, my shoe slides on. Perfect fit.

  “Amazing! It’s fate!” Nathan even goes so far as to tie my shoe for me before standing. His boyish grin is almost too adorable to handle. “You know what this means, right?”

  “Uh, my car is going to turn into a pumpkin?” I move to stand up, but he leans over me, bracketing me in by bracing his hands beside my hips on the wall.

  “Wrong. This means, we are betrothed.” Nathan uses an official-sounding tone, getting way too into this scenario.

  I have to admit, the guy commits to a joke.

  “Betrothed? That’s some fancy vocabulary. Are you a Downton Abbey fan? Big reader of historical romances?”

  He slowly shakes his head, the brush of his nose against mine showing just how close he’s gotten. Suddenly, the air in my lungs doesn’t seem like enough, and I have to suck in a bit deeper just so I don’t get light-headed.

  “I know. It’s intimidating. Meeting Prince Charming face-to-face.” His dark eyes flicker wickedly when I snort. “But I think we need to mark this special occasion.”

  “Oh, really?” When did my voice get so breathy? I clear my throat.

  His nose brushes mine again as he nods. “A royal engagement isn’t official until …” As his words trail off, I find myself swaying forward in hopes of following them to their conclusion.

  “Until?”

  My answer is the soft caress of his lips against mine. He’s gentle, briefly pressing his warm kiss to my mouth before retreating to meet my eyes. He smiles down at me, but the joking nature of the exchange is gone, and only a question remains.

  I answer back by hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt and tugging him down to me.

  This time, he lingers, exploring my mouth, sending happy jitters along my spine as he massages and gently sucks my lower lip.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed; I forgot how much I enjoyed it. When people talk about being drunk, this is what I always compare it to. The way sharing a breath with someone else can make my mind go hazy and my muscles turn liquid. The scent of cloves teases my nose, and a hint of cayenne still sits on his tongue when I open my mouth enough to taste him.

  I trace my fingers up his neck, twining them in the silky mess of his short hair. With that hold, I’m able to pull him closer, delighting in his smile against mine and the hot pressure of his hands on my waist as he also tries to eliminate the space between us.

  A blinding light acts like an electric poker, breaking us apart. My butt hits the brick of the wall hard as I plop back down, only realizing then that Nathan started to lift me up. My make-out partner stumbles back a step, hand shielding his eyes as muttered curses drop from the lips I just got to sample.

  “What’s going on here?” The deep voice from behind the light holds a sense of authority, which automatically assures me I did something wrong. Only after a second of contemplation do I realize that neither one of us was breaking any kind of rules other than maybe the social norms of PDA.

  “Goddamn it. Mike? Is that you? Stop shining that fucking flashlight in my face. We’re not drunk.”

  Nathan’s angry outburst has the mystery person lowering the light enough that I can make out the form of a campus safety officer. Specifically, one of the student officers who got the job because they’re criminal justice majors.

  “Nathan? Sorry, man.” He turns to look at me. “You all right there?”

  I chuckle, not too mad about the interruption. Getting drunk on a guy’s kisses in public is not my norm.

  How did we go from enemies to sucking face in one night?

  “I’m good. Just heading home.” Too quick for Nathan to protest, I snatch my bag off his shoulder and wave at the two of them. “Have a good night, Officer. Till we meet again, my liege.”

  In the ambient glow of the flashlight, I can see the unhappy clench of Nathan’s jaw. The sight of his discomfort adds a gloating skip to my walk. As I approach the entrance of my building, I can hear him berating poor Mike.

  “Seriously? This is how you repay me after getting you through our Comm class?”

  “I didn’t know, dude.”

  A stupid grin sits on my face as I swipe my key card to unlock the door.

  “Shorty!” Pounding footsteps sound behind me. “I don’t have your number!”

  The last word is muffled by the glass between us as the door swings shut and locks automatically. Only the people who live in this dorm have key cards that can open it. A heavy knock rings through the lobby, and when I turn to glance over my shoulder, there he is, just outside, hands on hips, eyebrows sitting high on his forehead.

  I smile and wave before pointing my feet toward the stairwell.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I’m torn. Denying Nathan’s demands is a hell of a lot of fun, giving me a rush of triumph and cockiness. But the sight of the dark stairwell, leading up to a room with girls who don’t really care to know me and a bookshelf full of novels that have been my only friends for months, reminds me that winning isn’t going to make me happy for long.

  Behind me, there’s someone waiting. A guy who just wants to have a way to get in touch with me again. Someone who actually wants to spend time with me.

  That doesn’t mean I need to let him know how much I crave his companionship.

  When I turn toward the door again, I find his eyebrows are in a dramatic downward slope, and a hint of a frown is at the corner of his mouth. Then, he has the gall to lift up his hand, extend one finger, and curl it toward himself with slow deliberation.

  The bastard is beckoning me.

  Why do I love it so much?

  Visibly dragging my feet, I make my way back to the door, hesitating just a moment before opening it to establish my power position. I push on the cold metal bar and let in the chilly night air along with his disgruntled words.

  “You didn’t give me your number.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “And did you want my number?” I can’t help teasing him. It’s like a knee-jerk reaction that only Nathan brings on.

  He stares up at the ceiling and lets out a huge sigh. For a moment, I think I’ve pushed our silliness too far, but when his eyes meet mine again, the devil has on a rueful smile.

  “Pretty please, can I have your number, Shorty?”

  11

  NATHAN

  When I walk into the coffee shop, Hannah is already at the front of the line, one person away from ordering. I’m about to join her when her eyes stray to mine. The smile that puffs her cheeks is a better boost than any kind of caffeine.


  She waves me away before I can move closer. “I got this. Grab that table. Quick!”

  I roll my eyes so dramatically that there’s no way she can miss it, even across the room, letting her know what I think of having commands shouted at me.

  “Asshole, we’re gonna lose it!”

  A quick glance around the shop shows that the place is pretty crowded, and there’s only one free table left. I guess Shorty’s always right.

  “Flavored coffee of the day, cream and sugar,” I call out my order, ignoring the other patrons watching our exchange with a range of amusement and annoyance.

  She nods and shoos me toward the table, her panicked gaze taking in a pair of girls walking through the door, who glance around the shop with searching expressions.

  Their eyes alight on the table, but they’ve got no chance. I’m already halfway there, and I’ve got experience with fighting tougher competition than them for coveted space.

  Said competition is currently laughing at something the barista said to her. In any other situation, I’d love the sight of Hannah’s eyes creased in humor, white teeth flashing in an openmouthed smile. Problem is, the barista is a halfway-decent-looking guy who seems to have more than Shorty’s coffee order on his mind. He actually leans an elbow on the counter to get closer to her, an answering smile forming when she goes to whisper something in his ear.

  What. The. Fuck?

  Is the guy her boyfriend or something?

  Hannah doesn’t seem the type to go around kissing dudes and then bringing them to the place where her guy works. Maybe he’s just her friend.

  Her gay friend, hopefully.

  The dude slides two cups across the counter to her with a wink.

  My stomach churns, and my head burns hot. I hate to admit it, but I’m pretty sure my sudden onset of flu-like symptoms is actually a result of jealousy.

  The emotion is new, and I’m not a fan.

  It’s not that I haven’t been attracted to girls in the past. There’ve been a few relationships over the years. But I guess they were all pretty casual because I never felt particularly invested. Things always ended easily enough.