Love and the Library Page 7

  Instead, a set of devilish eyes runs over my face before he leans in close to whisper against my ear, “A quiet partner means more opportunities. Airplane restrooms, tent at a campground, dark corner in a crowded bar—”

  Whatever else is on his dirty list gets cut off by my hand slamming over his mouth.

  Someone overhearing might have thought he offended me.

  Not the case.

  I had to stop him before all my clothes combusted, and I was left standing in the middle of campus, naked and panting.

  Lucifer’s wicked gaze rakes over me, and then a warm, wet pressure strokes my palm.

  He licked me.

  I tug my hand back with a gasp, and Nathan unwraps himself from me, returning to our innocent hand-holding.

  But before we take another step, the bastard has to get in one last word.

  “Let me know when you want me to prove you wrong.”

  13

  NATHAN

  Hannah won, but I can’t say I’m mad about it.

  The afternoon sun spills through the glass and sets a golden cast to her skin as she types rapidly on her laptop in the coveted chair. Hannah glances up when I approach, her neutral expression taking on a triumphant smirk.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.” I wave away whatever taunt she’s about to throw at me as I head for the rigid wooden chair across the way. Instead of settling at the desk, I pick the seat up and carry it over to sit beside her.

  “Just can’t keep away from me, huh?” Her smug tone and quirked lips are too adorable.

  Before I sit down, I lean over, stealing a kiss from her sassy mouth.

  She lets out a happy sigh that warms my chest and convinces me to linger a moment longer before retreating.

  As I move back, I catch sight of her screen and the electronic form she’s halfway done filling out.

  “You applying for a job?”

  I’m busy pulling out my textbook and notes, so it takes me a few seconds to realize Hannah hasn’t answered. When I look up for the reason, I catch her chewing on the corner of her lips while she stares out the window.

  “Shorty?”

  She turns at the nickname, like the sound of it is a magnet drawing her to me. I’ll have to remember that. Problem is, when I finally catch her eyes, there’s a clear flash of guilt.

  “It’s not a job application. It’s a college one.”

  “College? I thought … aren’t you a sophomore? You’re not already applying to grad school, are you?”

  Hannah shakes her head and tugs at a loose thread on the hem of her shorts. Her avoidance tactics are starting up an uncomfortable burn in my chest, like the time my brother snuck a handful of ghost peppers into my cheesesteak.

  “No. I’m thinking of transferring. After this semester. To a school in New York.”

  Yep, it’s just like the hot peppers. The heat starts low and innocent and then rages into full-on heartburn, making my chest ache and digestive system twist in rebellion.

  “You’re transferring? Why?” I rub my sternum as if the pressing of my palm will ease the phantom pain.

  Hannah stares at her lap while she answers, “It’s been two years, and I still don’t feel like I fit here. I mean, my classes are great. But that’s not really enough for me. I guess … I’m just tired of being on my own.”

  “On your own?”

  “I don’t … I haven’t … hell, it sounds so pathetic.” Hannah presses her fingers against her closed eyelids, so I can’t see her expression when she finally explains, “I can’t figure out how to make connections here. In New York, I’ve got my family and my friends from high school who go to local colleges. Here, I’ve basically been alone for two years.”

  The words might as well be a set of blunt knives getting shoved into my stomach.

  “So, what are we then?” I try to keep the betrayal out of my voice, but she still cringes in response.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply we’re not friends or whatever. More maybe?” Hannah shakes her head and leans back against the chair, turning her chin to watch me. “I like hanging out with you, Nathan. I really do. But we’ve been on speaking terms for, what, two weeks?”

  So, now, I’m Nathan apparently. Never thought I’d hate the sound of my real name on her lips.

  “You’re one person. Awesome, annoying, and a great kisser. But—and I don’t mean this to sound harsh—I know how quickly something like this can burn out.” She’s back to fidgeting with her shorts, and I have the urge to curl those nervous fingers into mine. “I don’t think I can commit to another year down here.”

  My lungs struggle for their next breath, as if the air is slowly being drained from the room.

  I just got her, and now, she’s telling me she’s leaving? The strong pressure in my chest demands me to shout that she’s wrong. To tell her that nothing between us will fizzle like it did with that idiot boyfriend who didn’t know what he had. Explain how I’ve been hung up on her for the whole year and that no way will these last few weeks of the semester be enough.

  I want Hannah all day, every day.

  But from the firm set of her mouth and the good-bye already forming in her eyes, it’s clear that we’re still in too early of a stage for her to believe me.

  I’m not enough to get her to stay.

  The burn continues to throb and pulse in my rib cage, marking the beginnings of a hole she’s going to leave in her place. I have no idea how Hannah has had such an effect on me already, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s taken up permanent residence under my skin. I’m not about to let her retreat up north without a fight.

  The vague outlining of a plan forms in my mind.

  She needs more than me? Maybe I can get her that. Set her up to find her place here. To want to come back to Virginia in the fall.

  Hannah’s back to typing on her computer, the click of the keys filling the silence between us. She’s probably putting the final touches on that goddamn application. A countdown has started.

  But I’m not giving up.

  “What are you doing Monday at three?”

  14

  HANNAH

  “Glad to have another member! You said your name was Hannah …” The faculty adviser holds a pen poised above her clipboard, letting my name trail off in question.

  Ready for the chaos my answer is going to bring on, I tense my shoulders and shove my hands into my pockets, keeping my sights fixed solely on the woman in front of me.

  “Hannah Smalls.”

  There’s the sound of choking behind me. I ignore it.

  But I can’t ignore Nathan stepping right in front of me, clasping both my cheeks in his hands and staring down at me with joy equivalent to me offering to buy him a sports car for Christmas.

  “Your last name is Smalls? Hannah Smalls?”

  The pleasant heat of his skin against mine isn’t enough to keep me from scowling.

  “Yeah. So what?”

  He moves as if to say something, but instead, his mouth just hangs open in a grin.

  This gloriously happy version of him is too much. My eyes are likely to burn in their sockets from facing the overwhelming handsomeness of him. Trying to extract myself, I wrap my fingers around his wrists, ignoring how the hairs on his arms tickle my palms.

  “Lucifer—”

  Whatever plan I had to move away from him fizzles to nothing when he crashes into me with a kiss meant to melt my brain and set the rest of my limbs on fire. My grip on his arms becomes vital to standing, and I let him worship my mouth as I try not to lose consciousness. We might as well be embracing in the middle of an apple cider shop because all I can smell when I breathe in is his heavy scent of cloves.

  The kiss ends abruptly with a quick nip of his teeth against my lower lip. I have to blink the lust from my eyes before I can focus on his giddy face again.

  A heavy throat clearing just off to my right has me shoving Nathan away. Guess I surprised him because he stumbles back, laughing all the while.
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  “Please don’t do that in front of the children.” The woman who started the whole mess by asking for my full name divides a disapproving look between the two of us.

  “Sorry, Professor Wesley. I’ll keep all interactions G-rated from this point on.”

  Not as embarrassed as me, Nathan tosses an arm over my shoulders before pulling me to the van a handful of other students have already piled into. People call out hellos to him as we approach, and Nathan introduces me around.

  Their friendly smiles ease some of my nerves.

  After we climb into the van and I’m sandwiched between Nathan’s hard leg and the window, he reaches out to tug on a strand of my hair. The playful gesture doesn’t hurt. Instead, it incites a riot of tingles scattering over my scalp.

  “How long did you think you could hide your full name from me?” Nathan takes up even more of my space by laying his arm on the back of the seat behind me. He’s like one of those giant Saint Bernards that tries to crawl into your lap because they think they’re still the size of a puppy, and even though you start losing feeling in your legs, you don’t have the heart to shove their furry ass off.

  Probably why my attempt to push Lucifer back into his seat is only halfhearted.

  “Stop man-spreading.”

  He grins and pokes my side before I slap his hand away.

  “Come on, Shorty. If you’d told me your name from the start, I could’ve been calling you Smalls this entire time instead.”

  My hair gets another teasing pull.

  “What a tragedy. Anyway, I only had to hold out for a few more weeks; then, I’d have been gone, and you’d have been none the wiser. But my plans were foiled!” I give him my best mock glare, only to realize the goofy grin is gone from his face.

  For a brief moment, Nathan stares down at me with a frown in his heavy-lidded eyes. Then, he lets out a sigh and gives me back some of my space. He doesn’t pull my hair again, and we quietly sit next to each other for the twenty-minute ride.

  Pretending like I don’t know what upset him would make me naive, and I’d like to think I’m smarter than that.

  Nathan likes me. Possibly even as much as I like him.

  So, it makes sense that he doesn’t enjoy hearing about me planning on abandoning Virginia. Maybe he thinks part of the reason I’m leaving is that I don’t actually have anything more than a hint of a crush on him.

  Wrong.

  This guy is a drug I could easily spend the rest of my life addicted to. I want to drown myself in him. If I was guaranteed continuous doses of Lucifer for the rest of my college career, I would delete all those applications I sent out and start buying books for my next semester.

  Problem is, there are no definite outcomes when it comes to infatuation. I found that out with Derrick. And the flutters I felt in my chest around my high school boyfriend are nothing compared to the flock of seagulls dive-bombing my innocent heart right now as I’m pushed up against my former nemesis.

  When Derrick ended things, I spent a weekend crying. Letting myself fall all the way for Nathan risks a hell of a lot more pain if he decides I’m not the one for him.

  And I have no safety net here.

  Friends are good for more than just curing loneliness. One of my besties, Rachel, who I’ve known since kindergarten, was the one who coaxed me out of my house for the first time after my heartbreak. She got me laughing and convinced me everything would turn out all right. Then, we had a bonfire and tossed in all the pictures of Derrick and me. The way good friends do.

  In Virginia, I’m on my own. If I let myself fall for Nathan and he didn’t catch me, there’d be no one here to help soften the landing. I’d be left a mangled heap on the hard ground.

  I can’t risk that.

  The bus lurches over a few speed bumps before coming to a stop. Our group spills out of the van and immediately heads into the yellow brick building.

  Nathan has his smile back, nudging me and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  “This is a great group of kids. One of them, Oliver, he’s so cute. He keeps these little toy cars in his pockets all the time. And Jessie, she’ll probably ask what your favorite color is. Don’t pick something lame, like blue. She wants specifics. Think Crayola box. And then Darnel—”

  The details about the toddlers are hard to grasp when I have this new version of my nemesis to admire. His hands dance around, and his face radiates joy. Probably without noticing, he’s picked up his pace, like his body can’t wait to get into the school.

  I have to jog to keep up. We end up being the first of our group to reach the classroom.

  When Nathan told me about the Kid Kare Club he’s vice president of, I thought the idea sounded sweet. College students visit a local elementary school to hang out with some of the children who have to stay late as they wait for their parents to pick them up, giving the teachers a break.

  I thought he might just be looking for something to stand out on job applications, but it takes less than a minute for me to realize he’s in this for more than just his résumé.

  “Nathan!”

  A group of the kids scramble from the floor and barrel into my companion.

  “Jungle gym!” one of the little boys shouts as he grabs for my tall friend’s arm.

  “Okay, okay!” Nathan laughs and then flexes his biceps.

  I don’t understand what the douchey pose is for until the boy wearing a dinosaur shirt launches himself into the air and loops his tiny hands around Nathan’s right arm, swinging and giggling. A girl latches onto his left in the same way, screaming her joy. Two more boys commandeer his legs, hugging his calves as they sit on his feet.

  He is engulfed.

  As Nathan struggles to take a step with his new toddler outerwear, I realize I’ve never seen a larger grin on his scruffy face.

  And, in that moment, I reach a deeper understanding about my nemesis.

  A lot of people come to college because it seems like the next step they have to take in their life. Maybe they choose to come in undecided, or they pick a major that sounds kind of interesting, like I did with chemical engineering. Those people might grow to love their major, or perhaps they’ll try out a new one until something fits.

  Nathan is not one of those people.

  I know without a hint of doubt that he’s meant to work with kids. Somewhere in his genes, there’s a strand of DNA labeled Child at Heart. If he had to spend his nine-to-five toiling in an office, all of this light and laughter radiating out of him would be crushed.

  Now, I’m not saying I’m at the complete other end of the spectrum, but becoming a living piece of playground equipment is not high on my fun times list. Instead, I trail behind Nathan as he shuffles across the room, weighed down by four monkeys parading themselves as human children. I enjoy watching him in his element while at the same time keeping myself separate.

  Not that my ghost act lasts long.

  “Hey, everybody. This is my friend Hannah.” Nathan finally drops his arms, and the two little climbers tumble off in a mad chorus of giggles.

  “Hannah rhymes with banana!”

  Through a wild mass of curly red hair, I make out a freckled face and a mouth with one tooth prominently missing.

  “That’s right, Chelsea.” Nathan’s praise makes the girl’s spotty grin grow wider. He glances back at me then, his smile nowhere near as innocent as the carrottop’s.

  “Don’t you dare, Lucy,” I mutter under my breath, shorting his normal nickname to its more kid-friendly version.

  Still, should’ve known that you can’t get anything past kids.

  “Lucy is a girl’s name. He’s not Lucy. He’s Nafan.” The child, who so astutely pointed out my name sounds like a yellow fruit, tries her best to correct me. Unfortunately, the lack of all the necessary incisors means her th comes out as an f sound.

  “Of course. You’re right. Silly me.”

  The two of us girls share a smile, and I’m forgiven for nicknaming her hero.

>   Nathan takes pity on me, probably noticing how out of my element I am.

  “Why don’t you read a book to whoever wants to listen? This is really just free play until the parents get here.” With two children still wrapped around his ankles, Nathan can’t walk me over to the bookshelf, but he places a hand on my shoulder and turns me until I catch sight of a display of colorful covers.

  “I can do that,” I say as I slip away to a quieter corner of the room.

  The little redhead, Chelsea, follows after me. Without prompting, she pulls out a thin paperback and pushes it into my hands.

  “Dat one. Please.” Her curls bounce as she sits cross-legged on a rug in front of a low stool.

  Guess I have my orders.

  The next hour consists of me reading book after book to a group of quieter kids while Nathan pretends to be various forms of monsters, chasing the higher-energy students around the room. The other people in the club claim activities like crafts and puppet shows. All the kids are entertained, and I have never been more in awe of teachers and parents.

  They do this for hours.

  By the time we all pile back into the van, every club member wilts in exhaustion.

  Everyone, except for Nathan. If anything, it’s like he absorbed all the energy the kids were wearing off.

  “That was fun, right? I think Chelsea liked you. And she’s a hard customer. Took me three weeks to get on her good side. Before that, she’d insisted I had cooties. Now, we’re cool though,” he rambles, facing me, hopefulness radiating from his eyes.

  The sight breaks my heart, just a little.

  I know what he wanted today to be. This was his attempt at finding a place for me. Making me want to stay.

  Problem is, even though Kid Kare is a great club, it’s not my club.

  I lean in close, keeping my voice low so we don’t disturb the few people in our group who’ve been lulled to sleep by the rumble of the van. “I can see why you love it. Those kids are obsessed with you.”

  Nathan follows my lead, losing some of his enthusiasm. “But you didn’t love it … did you?” he asks, not a hint of annoyance in his voice, but definitely a shadow of sadness.