“No,” I say. “No.” I push her away, pulling her hands off my groin. I can’t do this.
Raven’s eyes are cloudy, dazed, and she stares at me. “No?”
Dorian loves her. This is all wrong. If I let this go on any longer, it would destroy him. How could I ever do that to him? To us?
I shake my head, zip, and button. “I should go.”
13
Raven
Virtus tentamine gaudet.
(Courage rejoices in challenges.)
—Latin proverb
As I shelveanother book at the Rosette, sliding it into the gap between two faded leather tomes, I tremble with the memory of Atticus’s lips on mine, kissing me, his warm hands on my back as my hand slipped into his pants. I’m dizzy, as if the wine is still flowing in my veins, Atticus’s lips gliding over mine, the two of us a mess of entangled limbs. But then he pushed me away. Went to his bedroom and slammed the door.
I’d wanted to blame the wine, to say it was a mistake, and salvage what remained between us, but it would have been a lie. A lie to save our friendship, but a lie all the same. Then this morning, when I finally rallied to talk to him, he had gone to work before I even woke up. He obviously hates me. What now? And what about Dorian? What would he say if I told him? Would Atticus tell him? All I have now is my own shame and hours of silent work in the library feeling sorry for myself.
“Hey, Raven.” Aspen’s friendly voice cuts through my thoughts like a silver blade. I startle, turning on him, and Aspen holds up his hands. “Whoa, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I laugh, knowing I must look silly, jumping for no reason, myheart thumping like a fist against my chest. “It’s okay,” I say, a little breathless. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Apologies,” he says, glancing at the stack of books that still needs to be shelved. “Do you need any help?” He appears concerned.
“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
“Anytime,” he says, his gaze tender and warm. I’m reminded of the way Atticus looked at me last night. Before he stopped what he’d started. Ugh.
“I actually wanted to ask you something,” I say.
The way Aspen’s face lights up with expectation makes me rush to say, “Do you know where I can find any information about a former student named Adelina? Could be from a long time ago.”
That wasn’t the question he wanted me to ask, and he tries to hide his disappointment with a curious tilt of his head. “Adelina Ward?”
My heart hammers. I never doubted Dorian’s vision, but now it feels real. “Yeah, maybe! Do you know about her?”
“I remember seeing the name way back when I was starting out here and we were collating some old records. I think she came from some big donor family. Why do you ask?”
I can’t let him know about Dorian, so I lie. I’m doing that a lot lately. “A student was asking at the circulation desk. I think for a family tree project or something.”
Aspen seems to buy the lie. “Well, don’t let me stop you. I may be well-versed in the archive, but I’m not all-knowing. Maybe try the alumni records, see if you can find her there.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks,” I say, hoping he’ll depart, but he doesn’t budge.
Aspen only smiles, then he steps in closer to me. He glancesaround, checking if anyone is nearby. “You know, I had a really nice time with you the other night,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. Here’s this guy who actually likes me, who’s showing genuine interest in me, and all I can think about is Atticus—someone I can’t be with. What is wrong with me?
When I don’t reply immediately, Aspen continues awkwardly, his voice cracking. “And I really thought about what you said, about the protesters and doing the right thing in the face of injustice.”
“Yeah?” I say.
“Sure,” he says. “You’re right, I was being defeatist.”
“Glad to hear that.” I’m happy to have the subject changed. I know Aspen means well, and I feel like I’m cruel for using him. He left his key chain on the desk this morning, and I slipped the stolen key back into place easily. Will I ruin the one good thing I have left?
