He gets to the library doors first, using his shoulder to shove one open while balancing the box. He shifts his weight, holding it long enough for me to pass through. It’s such a simple gesture, but coming from him, it feels like he’s showing off.
I hesitate for half a second, then walk past him without making eye contact.
We step into the library, and the librarian’s eyes lock onto us from behind her desk.
“I was about to send someone to hunt you three down,” Ms. Rowan says, her voice pitching up and down like a startled parakeet.
Jax lifts the box slightly. “Where do you want it?”
“Oh—well—over there is fine,” she waves vaguely at a cart. “Put it anywhere. The whole cataloging system died years ago. Yes, right there.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Jax slide one tape out of the box and tuck it into his jeans like it’s no big deal. Before I can call him out, Ms. Rowan claps her hands, pulling my attention back to her.
“Shelves in the back! Alphabetical by author, then genre. Fiction first, then nonfiction. No creative expression, please.”
We head to the back. Ivan keeps glancing at the shelves like he’s afraid he’s doing it wrong. Jax leans against the cart, barely looking at the books, flipping one open like he’s simply killing time.
All that effort to keep my distance, completely wasted. Ten minutes trapped in here with him and I’m already forgetting every reason I had to stay away.
I reach for a book at the same time Jax does, and our hands almost touch. I pull mine back, but his fingers brush mine anyway as he takes the book, slower than necessary, his eyes lingering on me a second too long.
I take the next book instead, focusing hard on the titles in front of me.
Jax says something to Ivan, but I barely hear it. My attention drifts back to his voice, low and careless, close enough that I have to read the author’s name three times before I actually process it.
It’s infuriating how my heartbeat speeds up. I force myself to focus on the shelf, on the books, on anything that isn’t him—but I’m still painfully aware of exactly where his hands are.Too close.I mentally curse myself for reacting like some pathetic girl with a crush. I need to shut this down. This is exactly why I’ve spent three years avoiding him.
I reach past him for a book and catch the smell of his shampoo.Great. Of course he smells good. Because why wouldn’t he? Perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect scent. It’s like he was designed in a lab to make my life difficult.
I look away.I need to get it together.I already know exactly what he is—and I’m not allowing myself to feel anything but disdain for him and his family. Disdain. That’s it.
“So,” Jax says, sliding a book into place. “What’s your crime?”
Ivan stiffens. “Crime?”
“Yeah. What’d you do to end up here with the two coolest people in school?” He nods at himself, then at me.
I roll my eyes hard.
Ivan nearly drops a book.
“Why are you in detention?” Jax presses.
Ivan goes rigid beside me.
Great. Apparently, I'm carrying this conversation.
I exhale. “Fine. I… shoved someone.”
Ivan blinks. “Someone?”
“A girl.”
Jax’s eyebrows shoot up. “Damn. Why?”
Not gonna say I was pissed she got the part I’ve been bleeding for. “She kept saying ballerinas aren’t athletes,” I say, sliding a book into place. “So I proved her wrong.”
Jax lets out a low whistle.
