I have no idea if Isla will be there, but I have some work experience finding people and places they might frequent, and I’m relying on that experience. The paperbacks she dragged to the cabin told me she would have to either buy or borrow them.
And if not for books, she might enjoy a quiet study place, since she hadn’t done any studying during our weekend. I cross the campus looking as if I know where I’m going and as if I belong here, trying not to stand out, which is a bit hard as college girls move in groups past me, giggling.
I drop my ball cap lower over my face, stare at my feet as I climb the library steps, then reach the front desk with a plastic shield before it. In the postpandemic world, we avoid spitting into each other’s faces as much as possible.
The stairs ahead will take me to the upper floors. I use them instead of the elevators and reach the first floor, where I pause and look at the library sectionals map.Quiet study. Fourth floor.I turn away from the wall and comb through the first, second, and third floors before concluding she’s not here.
On the fourth floor, after the sweep, I pick up a romance paperback and settle into the corner by the window overlooking the campus’s yard, where Isla should move between buildings as she swaps classrooms. Waiting and watching comes with my profession, though this time, it won’t be fatal for anyone. I sincerely hope.
Hours later, speakers announce the library is closing, and I return the romance novel and head downstairs, where I do another sweep of the floors and bathrooms and almost don’t make it outside before the staff locks up.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
10
Tomorrow comes and goes.
Day after tomorrow goes by too.
Two weeks pass, and by now, I’ve grown a beard and a stellar obsession with seeing her, and I’ve made new friends, namely the male librarian who ate up my story. I’m homeless and like to read romance, so he lets me be. In the corner on the fourth floor, I sit with an open book, but I can’t read it because I have to stay alert and watch the yard.
It’s well past the lunch hour, and my stomach growls. From my pocket, I get a protein bar and chew on the nasty shit health gurus swear by. Bitch, please, I want steak and potatoes with a damn salad, and I want Isla to cook it for me. But no, I chew on shit that sticks to my teeth and watch the yard.
A group of girls exits the science building. They wear little plaid skirts with stockings, hats, scarfs, gloves, and warm jackets. They’re all brunettes with long hair, but I can tell Isla from miles away. She laughs and carries books, and immediately, I know she’s forgotten all about me. I was her one-night stand.
A slice of her life, a bit of rest and relaxation from her strict father, who happily pays for private Catholic school even though it’s way outside his budget. I respect a man who wants what’s best for his kid, although I disagree with the sheriff because I think he wants what he believes is best for her. I hate that Isla appears to have carried on with her life.
While I’m pining after her, she’s strolling around campus as if she didn’t change my fucking life only a few weekends ago.
A nice man would accept her decision and leave the girl thriving in her sheltered community. I’m not nice. I’ll remind her I exist. Jar her memory a little and see how she moves on with her nice life then.
She walks toward the library with a small smile on her pretty face. Fumes might seep out of my ears.
I wait.
No rush.
Which floor will she visit?
I’m betting on this one.
From this corner position, I don’t see the entrance, so when she rounds the stacks and walks toward me, head down, perusing a book in her hand, I stand. “Hi, Isla.”
She stops dead in her tracks, the book drops, and she runs toward me, jumps me, and starts kissing me all over my face. She knocks my hat off, yanks my hair back, and slams her mouth over mine. I hold her up, hands under her fine big ass. I give it a squeeze and kiss her back, my tongue in her mouth, kissing her like crazy.
She comes up for air first and pulls back, her gaze roaming over my face. “What are you doing here?”
“Educating myself.” I set her on her feet, and she sits at the window, eyes on the novel in my hand.
“You read romance?”
“Most ardently.” I quote the dude from the story who got the girl even after being a total asshole. Mr. Darcy gives me hope.
“Where are you staying?”
“Motel Six.” Unfortunately, I’m on the job, and while on the job, I lie low. She’s the job.
Isla twists her scarf and removes her hat, her eyes not meeting mine. “I’m sorry about my dad.”
