Her laughter. Like damn musical notes to my ears.
I take a seat at one of the many tables, pull out my books, and pretend to be busy. The test coming up in biology is the furthest thing from my mind, not when she’s so close.
Forced attention on my note cards is the worst, but I push through. That is, until a chair nearby scrapes across the tiled floor. I resist the urge to look, finishing my chapter of vocabulary words first. When I write the final definition, I give in and peek at the only other person in the library.
A curtain of deep brown hair cascades down the back of a chair. Long and shiny, it begs to have fingers running through it and tugging tight. I shake my head, breaking myself from my own dark thoughts.
“Do you need something?” The familiar annoyed tone tells me everything I need to know.
Slow and calculating, I lift my head to find Palmer with her eyebrows raised like they’re pleading to ask me something.
“Just working on my note cards. Did I commit a crime or something? Or is this your library?” I sit up a little straighter and wave a hand at the doors. “Is that your name up there? I must have missed it.”
“No, but—”
“But it does say Decatur.” I tap my temple.
“Is that meant to be some kind of threat, Marek?” She fidgets in her seat. Good, she should know better than that. “I’m allowed to be here.”
I push back my chair and stalk towards her. My steps are slow, purposeful, giving me a chance to watch her swallow hard. Once in front of her, I bend down, resting a hand on the back of her chair and the other on the table. She leans back, silently begging for distance I’m never going to give her. I plan on consuming every breath she takes.
“It isn’t a threat, Palmer. I don’t make threats.” I run my finger through the hair surrounding her face. “Boys like me don’t have to.”
“You four may think you run this place, but you don’t.”
Game on, sweet thing.
“What are the odds I can get the librarian to leave us alone?” I poke my tongue against the inside of my cheek to stop from giving myself away. “I can clear this library out and do with you what I want, and no one would bat an eyelash because of who I am.”
Palmer runs her hand over her collarbone, shakes her head, and stands, forcing me to take a step back. “You have a deal. What do I win if you can’t?”
“You get your freedom.” I skim my finger under her chin. A freedom she hasn’t quite learned she has already lost.
“And if you win?” she calls out as I’m walking towards Mrs. Valentine, one of the school librarians.
I stop and look over my shoulder, piercing her with my stare. “The only thing I want, of course. You.”
Palmer is about to learn I never make a bet I can’t win. Behind the desk, Mrs. Valentine glances up from her book.
“How can I help you, Mr. Hawthorne?” she asks. Her gaze shifts behind me, no doubt watching Palmer fuss with herself in the spot where I left her.
“I’m going to need you to leave,” I demand. “Now.”
“And if I don’t?” She’s brave for an old lady.
“Would it help if I say please?” I smile sweetly at her.
There’s no world where she’d tell me no. Last year, the school was prepared to fire Mrs. Valentine. She’d missed too many days of work while helping her daughter through her cancer treatments. That is, until her six-foot-three savior stepped in and made sure that wouldn’t happen.
The boys didn’t understand why I did what I did for her, rightfully questioning my motives. Honestly, when the student body heard I had been the one to start the fuss over saving her job, most of them looked at me in disbelief. Everybody jumped in line behind me, though, solidifying the power I had on campus.
What they didn’t see was a boy who owed a debt to someone.
Freshman year, Mrs. Valentine caught Henry cornering me in the library. He wanted me to attend an alumni event, so he could tote me around like an obedient lap dog. The menacing hand wrapped around my bicep had me wincing from the pressure, stuck between my godfather and a metal door. Mrs. Valentine saw him and told him if he ever put his hands on me again, she’d make sure everyone knew who he truly was.
She had my back that day, and I had hers when she needed me.
“Don’t hurt that girl, Mr. Hawthorne.” She gathers her belongings and slings her bag over her shoulder.
“Never in a million years.” I hold up my hands to say I’m innocent.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” With the knowledge of my reputation in her head, she still leaves me alone with Palmer.
Sweet fucking victory.
I follow her to the front door and lock it after she leaves. When I turn around, Palmer is no longer at the table, but her bag and belongings are.
The two-story building is dimly lit. The dean claims it helps induce a calm workspace. In reality, he might as well have put mattresses in the back. It’s now where students go to fuck, far back in the stacks.
“Oh, Palmer.” I grin, grabbing her phone and swiping the screen. If she’s dumb enough to leave it unprotected with no passcode, then I’m going to take what I want. It’s not like this girl would willingly hand over her phone number to a guy like me. Putting it back onto the table, I check my surroundings. “Come on out, Palmer. You owe me what I’ve won.”
“Not a chance.” Her voice carries through the tall building. She could be anywhere.
I search for a minute or two, to no avail. This girl is practically a ghost. I ascend the staircase, stalking her like a killer does his victim. It wraps up on both sides, like the grand one in my childhood home. My phone vibrates in my pocket as I hit the top step, and I dig it out and click accept.
“What’s up, man?” I say. “I’m busy studying.”
“Sure you are, but I thought you might want to know she isn’t up there,” Dixon says, laughing. I search the corners until spotting the camera. “Say cheese, mother fucker.”
“Can you see her?” I whisper, hoping not to give my position away in case she’s close.
“She’s on the move,” Dixon explains. “How about we make this game a little more fun?” At his words, the lights turn off, casting the entire library in the dark.
“How the hell did you do that?” I glance around, amazed at this guy’s talents.
“Skill. Time and energy. A willingness to learn.” Dixon’s voice drips with pride. “Now, are we going to catch her or not?”
“Which way?” I ask. It’s been a while since Dixon and I’ve messed with someone together.
He gives me specific instructions, sends me up and down certain aisles, but I always come up short. It isn’t until I’ve gone up and down the stairs two times that I realize Dixon has played me.
“You’ve been sending me on a wild goose chase, haven’t you?” I pull the phone from my ear, growling my anger, before bringing it back.
“Just proving my point.” Dixon snickers. “She’s on the bottom floor, third row in non-fiction. Hasn’t moved this whole time, asshole. Go bat her around for a little while and come home when you’ve quenched your thirst.”
“You’re a dick.” I shake my head and hold up my middle finger, knowing damn well he is watching. He’s always watching.