I feel around for more lights, finding one near what looks like a small office to the right. Illuminated, the space is vast. It’s clearly used, the layers of dust plaguing the other area spared in here. Enormous scanning stations sit in the center of the room, one layered with what appear to be maps. This must be where they digitize things that are donated. The Welles historical archives are better than those of some nearby universities.
I kick out a rolling chair from an enormous mahogany desk and step into the space. Flattening my palms on the desktop, I flex my fingers and scan the room to make sure it’s truly empty. My head tilted, I let out a growling scream, my body tingling from the boiled over emotions finally escaping my body. It leaves me panting, but also somehow better.
Reaching back, I find the arm of the chair and I pull it in to sit. I lean back in the leather and lift my legs, resting my feet on the desk as I thread my fingers behind my neck. I like the way it feels, sitting in a chair behind a desk like this. I think this place is just what I need. In here, I will rule.
Chapter7
Lily
Isuspect Morgan thinks I have a thing for James. She asked about a thousand questions on our walk back to the dorm room after dinner last night, each probing my intentions from a different angle. I didn’t want to tell her the truth—that I want to tutor him so he’ll do well in the class, despite what Theo says. Instead, I’ve stuck with a much better reason, even if it’s not the real one: that I could use the distraction.
I have no idea why I’m so bent on proving Theo wrong over something so ridiculous. I don’t even know James, though he seems nice. I’d like to think I’m the type of person who wants everyone to succeed, but I’d be overselling myself. I don’t root for people to fail, exactly. I’m just too tired to invest in deep, meaningful relationships in which I may need to be a support system. And the accident didn’t make me that way. I was broken long before I met Anika.
By some miracle, I don’t have a single course with any of myfriends.The only person I was truly worried about running into today was Theo, and we crossed paths—literally—several times. I started to wonder if he made sure the registrar kept us out of sync. More than once, he was in a class the hour after me or the hour before. If we were on better terms, we could share notes and tips on tests. We’re not, though. And I’m not interested in helping people succeed for noble reasons. On the contrary, I’m a little hopeful Theo will fail and be forced to leave Welles completely.
I’ll get my first taste of forced proximity next week, when our internships officially begin and take up our Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s probably extreme wishful thinking—and naivete—to think he’ll be fed up with anything so quickly. I have a feeling he’s as bullish as me in some ways.
Survivors.
I’m stuck on that thought, on that word, when the devil himself pushes through a nearly hidden door on the back side of the Welles library across from the bench I’m sitting at. He doesn’t see me at first, his attention on making sure the door he shut isn’t fully locked for some reason. I find myself staring at him the way I do movies I’ve seen a dozen times. Invested, but not fully engaged. I pull my water bottle to my chin and wrap my lips around the straw without shifting my gaze away from him.
He glances to his left then right as he seems to be pulling vines back over the door, as though he’s covering it up. He appears satisfied with his work until he spins around and claps the dust from his hands just before his eyes find me. He stops his steps as soon as they begin and his head tilts to one side.
“What, are you following me or something?”
Huh?
I twist my face up rather than speak.
“I see. Whatever. Fine . . .stalker.” He mumbles that last word as he begins to walk around me. I laugh out loud once, a single, snarky punch. He stops a few steps beyond me and backtracks, pausing near the end of my bench where he puts one foot on the seat. Leaning in, he moves his tie to one side before folding his hands together and leaning his elbows on his knee.
“Am I wrong?”
I’m struck by how much he looks like Anika right now. It’s not only his eyes—pools of blue-like concrete that always seem to be trying to hide under squinted eyelids—but the slight angle of his head as he stares at me, and the relaxed way his body commands the space. He has that same confidence about him. It’s what I found so attractive in both him and his sister to begin with.
“I’m not following you around, Theo. If anything, I’m trying my hardest not to.” Truthfully, I’m not necessarily disappointed when I get glimpses of him. As much as the sight of him scratches at fresh scars, I’m also curious. I do want him to find peace. I want peace, too.
“Why did you paint your toes?”
I jar a bit at his strange question, then remember how he knocked me out of Morgan’s shoes yesterday. I curl my toes inside my black pumps, as if he could see through them right now.
“I . . .”
I shrug and offer nothing. I did it a few nights before we moved in because I was alone in my room back home. I’m better when I’m busy. My mom wasn’t speaking to me much, either because she doesn’t like to or because she no longer knows how. Painting my toes is something my therapist suggested after my parents divorced. Busying my hands with something other than the small cuts they wanted to make. I can produce almost any color in the world in nail polish at this point. I only brought a dozen of my favorite colors with me.
“What’s in there?” I turn the tables on him, gesturing to the door he seemed so intent on hiding. He shifts his weight and drops his foot from the bench, straightening his spine and dropping his hands in his pockets before meeting my gaze. The tip of his tongue wets the center of his lips as his mouth hints at a smile.
“Just somewhere you’re not invited.” He holds me captive with his stare for a long second before blinking once.
I shake my head slightly and breathe out a faint laugh.
“What’s new?” If he means to make me feel excluded, he’s a little late. I did that to myself when I got here. I’ve learned it’s easier to beat other people to the punch.
“So tell me, Lily. Are you planning on tutoring the new quarterback in his room when his parents aren’t home? Or maybe playing coy at the library over your favorite piles of books? I’m sure he’ll melt when he sees how fucking hard that class is you talked him into keeping.” He rolls his eyes, but I sense something else in his tone.Is Theo jealous?
“I guess that’s up to him and whatever he needs.” I form a tight line with my mouth, staving off the buzzing sensation tickling my skin. I say stupid things when I get angry, and I don’t want to spend my year sparring with Theo. I want to unknow him. I want tonotthink about him. I want to quit feeling guilty, to quit wishing for his forgiveness though I did nothing wrong. I want—
“Oh, such a heroic thing to say.Whatever he needs.Lily to the rescue.” His eyes deaden as I stare into them. My chest collapses and the air in my lungs burns.