“Hyper-focused?” he repeated.
“Yeah, like obsessed, to the point where it’s hard, if not impossible, for me to concentrate on anything else.”
“I understand.” Yom frowned over at me in a way that appeared more thoughtful than judgmental. “This is why you give so much attention all weekend to puppy you rescued.”
“Exactly.” I let out a breath of relief that I’d managed to get my point across in a clear and coherent way, which was not always a given, considering how my brain was set up.
“So maybe you can see why my study environment has to be on point and super-specific. No noise. No distractions—visual or auditory. Notice I picked a carrel facing a blank wall. Also, coming back to the same carrel day after day is good for me. It acts as a cue for my brain to work and concentrate. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” he answered. “The library is, as you call it, safe space. And I am taking this safe space from you.”
“You were mad.” The nice part of me wanted to wave off losing the library when he was determined to punish me. But the part of me struggling to keep up with my assignments since he dropped into my life like a nuclear bomb had to agree. “But yeah. Basically. I’m behind in all my classes now because my study haven is gone.”
Yom went silent, and I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t speak again until we pulled into the shelter’s parking lot.
And then it was only to command, “Stay in your seat.”
That morning, I’d scrambled out of his truck and tried to run off to class as quickly as my much shorter legs would carry me. But Yom caught up easily and, to my shock, took me by the hand with, “Remember item number six on the Anything List.”
I didn’t have the list completely memorized, but I knew he was referring to the rule about him walking me to my first class of the day.
Escorting me into work wasn’t on the Anything List, but I stayed put as instructed while Yom crossed in front of his truck’s massive grill to open my door for me—like an ever-scowling gentleman.
“You are forgetting your coat,” he said, scanning me up and down as I climbed out.
“Yeah,” I admitted, hugging myself as I shivered in the frigid Minnesota winter air. “I’m a frequent visitor to every lost-and-found center on campus. Plus, a lot was going on back at the student center.”
Yom made a sound in the back of his throat, a cross between a hum and a harrumph.
Then he began unwinding the scarf from around his neck. It was the only winter accessory he’d bothered with—apparently, being impervious to the cold was one of his many physical talents.
“Oh, you don’t need to?—”
He lifted my dreads and started wrapping his thick scarf around my neck before I could finish my protest.
Leaving me no choice but to accept his gift of manly scented warmth with a nervous, “Okay, thanks.”
I cleared my throat when he was done. “Anyway, thanks for the ride. What time did you want to pick me up from the library?”
“I am having to attend extra practice tonight,” Yom answered with a flex of his jaw. “I cannot drive you back to lake house.”
“Oh, that’s totally cool,” I assured him. “I can just?—”
“So, Rina will pick you up,” he finished before I could offer to catch the college bus, which may or may not go to Gemidgee Lake.
“Okay, do you want to give me her number so we can coordinate the pick-up?”
Yom flicked his gaze down to his watch. “You should get inside. In five minutes, you will be late.”
He didn’t wait for me to reply before returning to the driver’s side of the truck.
I stood there, still wrapped in the warmth of his scarf, watching him pull out of the parking lot. My breath misted in the cold air, but my mind felt even foggier.
What had just happened? Yom had been nothing but cold to me, even when he was technically being kind. And yet, I could still feel the heat of his hands lingering where they had touched my skin.
I was no closer to understanding him now than I had been this morning. And for some reason, that unsettled me even more than having everyone in the food court stare at me while he commanded them not to call me Restraining Order.
Lydia
