I huff. “By all means, catch my mono.”
The hitch of Trevor’s eyebrow tells me he doesn’t believe my claim about having mono. Which, yeah… I don’t. But who just…
Andnow he’s walking away with my latte.
“You’re welcome,” I call after him, cursing myself for checking out his ass. Which is perfect, of course, just like the rest of him. “Ugh.”
So this day is shit. It’s fine. It’sfine. It’s not like I have a major test this morning that accounts for a quarter of my overall grade.
The manic laugh I hear in my mind is both unwelcome and entirely unhelpful.
Closing my eyes, I take a moment to center myself. I think about where I am. My quiet corner of the library, where the smell of books is strong and the morning sun is starting to light my face. I imagine I’m in my own library, if such a place existed. With towering bookshelves and an actual ladder I’d have to use to reach the top of the stacks. Not because I’msmallbut because the shelves would simply be that high.
I imagine sitting down on a comfy couch in the middle of the room, reading or writing, perhaps, dry paper between my fingertips and the air around me filled with poetic words, so tangible I can hear it like a whisper.
The thought has my shoulders coming down, tension leaving me. When I open my eyes, I feel a little better. I uncap my highlighter and begin reading again.
I’ve managed to internalize some of the subject matter when Trevor returns, lowering himself steadily into the seat next to me. I avoid eye contact, not wanting to break my concentration.
But the man sets a to-go cup on the table and pushes it toward me. “Here.”
I stare for a long couple seconds at the cup before shifting my gaze to Trevor. “What is this?”
“A new latte,” he says, already back to typing on his laptop. “Hazelnut, right? It’s caffeinated this time.”
For once, my mouth has no witty retort. He got me a new latte? Seriously? “Why?”
Trevor shrugs, his massive shoulders lifting an inch. “Seems like you’re having a bad morning. Figured it might help.”
My swallow is rough. “How do you know I’m not this much of a bitch all the time?”
That seems to amuse him. His lips twitch, and he shrugs one shoulder again. “Guess I don’t. But you showed up with one pant leg wet and your hackles already raised. So I’m betting whatever is bothering you started long before you met me.”
“Oh, you’re definitely a big part of it,” I assure him.
He snorts, completely unruffled.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you for stealing my table,” I mutter, turning the latte enough to see the messy scrawl labeling it as hazelnut. And above that… “Red?”
Trevor’s eyes shift to me, a dark, dark brown. “You never gave me your name.”
“So you picked ‘Red.’ Because I’m a ginger?”
“No,” Trevor says with a small shake of his head, theclack, clack, clackof his keyboard quiet. “It’s the color of the sea floating beneath your freckles.”
The hitch in my breath matches the one in my pulse. “I’m not…blushing.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“It’s cold outside. And I had a long walk here.”
Trevor hums his acknowledgement. I can’t tell whether or not he believes me.
Carefully, I bring the latte to my lips. Part of me is convinced it’s going to be decaf again. Just as a way for Trevor—or theuniverse—to fuck with me. But it’s not. It’s caffeinated. Gloriously, wonderfully caffeinated.
Trevor chuckles at my low groan. “Didn’t expect you to be so easy to please.”
My eyes shoot his way, but he’s focused on his laptop, his dark hair falling a little messily over his forehead, those tattooed fingers tapping away.
