The folded pages of my favorite scenes are as close to nirvana as I’ll ever get while being on earth. The different folds are for different emotions—the top corner folded for happiness, a deeper crease across the center for sadness, and a small fold in the bottom for spicy scenes—the holy trinity.
I sink further down into the bean bag chair, letting my body relax into the plush fabric while I thumb open to the first page. I don’t feel like reading out of order today, no matter how much my fingers itch to open to the sad scenes to make me feel a little bit better about my depressing life.
I’ll start at the beginning and let myself get immersed in the story. Two hockey players who hate each other in public but love getting it on behind closed doors, what could be better than that?
Time passes quickly while I’m lost in the fictional world of hockey.
A thump on my forehead causes me to jump, dropping the book onto the carpeted floor with a thud. I cut my eyes at the person, wondering who would be comfortable enough to get that close to me.
It’s Zoey, Brittany’s girlfriend. Her green eyes hold mine, or at least they attempt to, until I drop my gaze to the book on the floor. The cracked spine shows off a glimpse of the cream-colored paper underneath. Maybe it is time to get a new one, and I can keep this one on my shelf for safekeeping.
“Whatcha doing?” Her peppy voice echoes in the silence of the library. I quickly look around to make sure we’re not disturbing anyone from studying. I don’t even want to think about how embarrassing it would be to be shushed like a child.
“Just… You know”—I gesture to the novel on the ground—“reading.” She bends over and picks it up, and I have to hold myself back from lunging for it.
“Hockey romance? You don’t really strike me as the type.” Zoey fans herself dramatically with the pages. “You seem more like a classics person.”
“I like anything, really,” I offer up, my voice pathetically optimistic. Books are something I can talk about all day, every day, and never get bored. It doesn’t even have to be romance, even though that’s what I prefer.
“Yeah?” She’s distracted while I watch her read the first page. The dramatic start of two men facing off on the ice, and one of them losing. The building tension between them, even from page one, is astounding. “Can I borrow this?”
I sputter for a minute, wanting to tell her no. It’s mine. But that’s childish, and even if she never returns it to me, it’s not like I can’t just buy another one.
“Sure. Yeah.” I wave my hand. “Can I have my bookmark back, though?”
Zoey pulls it out from the halfway point and hands it to me. A bright blue piece of paper with painted snowflakes and a glossy finish. It was a project I started in high school, custom designing bookmarks. It never took off into a lucrative business, but a few people bought them, and that was good enough for me.
“Why are you here? I thought you had plans. That’s what you said.” She accuses me, staring at me with green eyes with a hint of something in them. Like a predator watching its prey and waiting for it to mess up.
“I finished them early.” Lie. “So I decided to come to the library to keep myself entertained.” Another lie. But I refuse to tell her that my roommate kicked me out of my own room because he was bringing a girl over and didn’t want ‘his weird roommate’ intruding. He told me to find somewhere else to stay for the night, but where the heck am I supposed to go?
“Cool, cool. So what are your plans now?” My brain stalls.
“Um…” I hesitate, because I’m not doing anything, which is made even more obvious now that she took my book. Okay, I let her borrow it, but still. It’s in her hands and not mine.
“You should come and hang out with me and Brit. Do you like documentaries? Brit always finds the best ones.”
“I don’t think—” Zoey doesn’t let me finish my sentence. She’s grabbing my bag and extending her hand to help me out of the bean bag.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. And we have snacks,” she remarks, like the absence of snacks is going to make or break my decision to hang out with them. When my real problem is the fear of being in places where I’m unwanted, and that’s how Brittany made me feel.
But that’s okay. Because I’m in the process of growing up, so no matter how much I want to avoid the confrontation of sayingno and enjoy the night with at least one person who wants my company, I can’t.
“No thanks. I really appreciate the offer. I should be getting back to my dorm, it’s getting dark outside.” Zoey’s shoulders fall as she hands me my bag. I throw it across my shoulder, offering her a hesitant smile. “I really do appreciate it. Maybe another day.” And by that, I mean never. I’m not going to force my presence onto anyone.
We walk out of the library together in awkward silence. The sidewalk toward my dorm veers to the left, and she starts toward the right.
“You sure you don’t want to come? There’s plenty of space and food.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay. Really.” I’ll be fine on my own. I always have been.
6
ADAM
Zoey comes into my dorm room, slamming the door behind her and turning to glare at me, Brittany, and Danielle. The former is propped up against the couch with her feet spread across my rug. The snacks and drinks are on the coffee table to our right—thanks to Brittany, we still met up for movie night, even though it seemed like Zoey didn’t want to.
She storms across the room and wraps her palm around Brittany’s upper arm. “We need to talk. Now,” she demands.
