Did that sound…cocky?
“You already have all ofthatmemorized?” she questions, eyeing my books suspiciously.
“I, uh, well…I have a photographic memory.”
She laughs, a little sarcastically, but it’s a melodious sound that sends goosebumps cascading down every limb. “Of course you do.”
We fall into another bout of silence because I can’t find something to say to that. I’m overthinking every word that leaves my mouth, the way I sound, the way I look. My hyperfixation feels doubled when I talk to her because I’m so worried that she’ll think I’m a freak. Other people do. I’ve noticed the stares and the whispered comments when they think I can’t hear them. I wonder what they see? A guy who can’t keep eye contact,fidgets with his fingers, and focuses on keeping calm breaths when someone does talk to him.
Maeve’s books slamming shut pull me out of yet another haze, and I look up tentatively as she sighs, standing from her chair.
“You passed.Today,” she says, giving me a pointed look. But I think there’s amusement there, or maybe I’m wrong. “See you tomorrow, Tate.”
“Yeah,” I rasp. “See you.”
My body sags in the chair as I watch her leave the library.
CHAPTER THREE
MAEVE
Wednesday, December 15th
2.73 miles.
It’s not what I would usually run, but it’s all I had time for before meeting Tate in the library. Normally, I try to get at least four miles every day. It helps keep my head focused, especially with finals just two days away, but I mostly do it to drown out the noise.
The noise being the constant voice in my head telling me I’d only ever amount to the things that Landon said I would. That everything he ever said about me was right.
You’re such a fuck up, Maeve.
It’s your fault that I got so angry, Maeve.
No one will ever want you, Maeve.
Just as they start to creep back in, they dissipate as I fling open the door to the fitness center and step outside. Snow falls from the grey sky in fluffy little flakes, just starting to coat the grass and bare trees around campus. The air is crisp as I suck a deep breath into my lungs, watching it puff out around me when I release it.
Cedar Grove Cafésits between the fitness center and the campus library, and I’m pretty sure they know me by name and have my coffee order memorized, considering I stop there almost every day. It feels like a crime not to get one on cold days like this, but that doesn’t mean much when I get it year-round.
On the way to meet Tate, I stop in for my usual: a large, hot vanilla latte with almond milk and two shots of espresso.
Yesterday, I was a little nervous to meet Tatum in the library again, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s not a weirdo. He’s just a little shy. He couldn’t hold eye contact, and when he did, his cheeks would redden almost immediately. By looking at him, you wouldn’t think he’d be the quiet, smart type, but I found it kind of sweet that he was.
When I enter the library, I spot him in his usual seat, his books stacked neatly on the table but not open. He’s wearing a grey hoodie and some jeans, his dark green Converse moving swiftly up and down as he bounces his knees. His legs are so long that he almost looks cramped in that tiny wooden chair. His head lifts as I approach, and one of his large hands reaches up to push his glasses up his nose.
I can’t fathom how someone of his stature can be so…awkward.
Shrugging off my coat and beanie, I watch little melted snowflakes drip onto the carpet. My fingers comb through my hair in hopes of taming it as best as I can before sitting across from him and taking a sip of my coffee for some warmth.
“It’s freezing outside,” I say.
“It’s actually only thirty-eight degrees,” Tate says, with more confidence than I’ve seen thus far, but it falters as he peeks up at me. “The snow won’t stick unless it’s thirty-two d-degrees or below. It’s, uh, supposed to be below freezing tomorrow?—”
Someone drops something.Loud. A book, probably. It’s not even the noise that stops Tatum from finishing his sentence, it’sbecause I jump so hard in my chair that my coffee sloshes from the little drinking hole onto the table. My heart pounds so hard in my chest, I can hear it in my ears.
It was just a book.
You’re okay.
