My eyes jerked up from the paper, unfocused and blurry, until they landed on him.
Graham stood in the narrow aisle, leaning a shoulder against one of the tall bookcases, watching me.
For a second, my tired brain struggled to process why he was there. The haze of exhaustion faded, bringing those blue eyes into sharp focus—steady and unreadable.
He hadn’t sought me out in the library before, even though we were often here at the same time. I’d catch glimpses of his car inthe tiny parking lot, or inhale a faint trace of his scent—spicey amber and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on—as I passed through the maze of shelves on my way to the bathroom or searching for a book.
My brow furrowed. He stood there, framed by the stacks in this hushed, solemn place we both seemed to find refuge in. There was something about his expression…although it was controlled, I noticed a flicker of anxiety there.
“What do you want?” I meant for it to sound cold and dismissive, but the words came out almost…fragile.
His jaw hardened. He glanced at the empty chair across from me.
“You know,” he began slowly. “This used to be my favorite spot to work in.”
My eyes narrowed. “Okay?”
He stiffened. “Since you keep coming here, I wanted to know if we could share the space.”
“No,” I said immediately. The response was almost reactionary.
His brows rose, though he didn’t look angry. “No? Has someone made you the owner of this room?”
I sat up straighter. “I work in here.”
He inspected the chaos spread before me—open folders stacked unevenly, my laptop half buried under papers, pens scattered among the sticky notes.
“I see that.” He didn’t comment on the mess, though. “But I also like to work in here.”
“I’m not leaving.”
His face went strangely blank, but there was a tightening of his features.
Then he moved, coming right to the table and sitting at the chair across from me. He crossed his arms over his chest.
I glared at him.
He arched a brow. “What?”
He knew exactly what was wrong, but I ignored him. I shrugged like his presence did not annoy the hell out of me. “Nothing,” I said.
“Good.”
He set his briefcase on the table and took out a computer, pushing over my mess until it was all contained on my side of it. Like there was such a thing. My stomach sank. He really was going to do this, wasn’t he?
My question was answered as he ignored me and focused on his computer screen.
Fine. I could play this game. I dragged my attention back to my own work, trying to get back into a flow state.
It didn’t work. After almost twenty minutes, I was barely able to make any progress.
“How’s your head doing?” Graham’s voice disrupted the silence.
I glanced up, grimacing at the memory of getting clocked right in the forehead by Calliope, the library’s resident menace. Strangely, I hadn’t seen the cat much in the week since that incident. Maybe even she knew to keep her distance.
“If it’s all right with you, Doctor, I really don’t want to chat.”
“You can call me Graham,” he said.
