Page 12 of Stay Toxic

I probably totally was.

“You were,” he insists with a casual shrug. “And when you’re ready to accept that, feel free to join us.”

The jerk has the gall to wink before side-stepping and entering Rose Hall.

“Ah! Noelle. Just the wonderful receptionist I wanted to see. I’m supposed to sit in on today’s meeting for my father?” he says, completely ignoring me.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Keller. The rest of the board isn’t here yet, so feel free to wait in the conference room. There are your favorite snacks,” she gushes, batting her long lashes at him.

I shake my head, and make my way out of the building.

Note to self: he’s just a huge flirt. I shouldn’t pay any mind to anything he says. Trying to melt any panties in the vicinity seems to be in his nature, that’s all.

6

I go into town that afternoon and shop for a few bits and bobs for my side of the room.

I find a large rug that we can put in the middle—it’s gray, plush, and gorgeous. I hope Ari will approve. A throw for my bed—teal—and a plant. That’s not much, but it livens up my side a bit, making it look like someone actually lives there.

My classes officially start the next day. I jump into the familiar routine, eager to get started.

My schedule is ridiculously packed. Law school isn’t exactly known to be a light curriculum, but I took a number of electives unrelated to my main course of study. I didn’t choose the field I’m studying—that doesn’t mean I can’t take The Origin of Myth, Classic Greek and Ancient Languages, and Creative Writing on the side, so I’m not bored to tears.

The languages teacher is an impeccably dressed middle-aged woman, known for her extensive published work on the subject as well as a stint as an archeologist in her youth. I’m not gonna lie: no other class is nearly as exciting this year. She cited several texts, and I opt to head over to the library right after, as that was my last class of the day. Besides, there’s a cafe on the ground floor of the building. I order a triple shot latte and down it in record time before heading up, and up, and up, following the signs to the top floor, where they keep archives, local news, and dead languages.

The library is modern, well lit, but built keeping ancient designs in mind—spiral staircase, banisters, and warm wood shelves. I seriously love it here. It takes me a while to get to the seventh story, because I’m derailed at almost every floor by an unexpected feature. An actual ancient suit of armor behind a glass case, a damn aquarium with thousands of fish on the third floor—biology—and on the sixth floor, rare books, ancient or out of print, kept in a locked, temperature-controlled room.

I’m pretty much in heaven.

I find the complete work of Mrs. Marsh, my new teacher, volumes one through seven. I already have the textbook, but reading her actual research won’t hurt, so I pile them up, and get to one of the alcoves. They’re all empty, either because it’s already nine—I wasteda lotof time going up here—or because it’s not a popular floor.

I open the table of contents of each volume, checking the chapter titles, to see which ones are likely to be the most relevant to our course of study. I must have lost track of time, because by the time I’m at book six, a slender man comes to tell me they’re closing soon.

“I thought the library was open till eleven?”

He smiles at me kindly. “It’s ten forty-five, poppet.”

“Oh.” A glance at the grandfather clock across the room tells me he’s right. “So sorry! I’ll head down right now.”

“Hard at work already, huh? We don’t normally see people this immersed until mid-term.”

“It hardly feels like work,” I admit, regretfully getting up.

I look at the pile of thick leatherbound volumes. Marsh studied ancient Roman and Greek customs in detail, from the inner workings of the government to the role of women, even prostitutes. At first glance, I’d say I only strictly need three of the volumes, but I really want to read the rest.

“How many books can I check out at once?”

“The limit’s twenty-five, but you can apply for more if needed.”

I opt to take all seven.None of them are available as ebooks, so that’s the only way to get to read them.

The librarian, Walter, tells me he studied library science right here at Rothford. “To my parents’ great distress, I didn’t want to join the family business, or become a lawyer, or a doctor.”

I sigh, relating to every word. Granted, Walter actually got to do what he wanted, while I’m well on my way to passing the bar in the next three years.

“But I’m a third child—my big brother’s working in the family’s business, and my sister’s in finance, so they just gave up on their lofty aspirations for me.”

Lucky guy.