Page 23 of Keep Me

“They’re good for studying,” he said, opening his laptop again. He typed something quickly, then looked back up at me, entirely casual. “Hey, give me your number.”

I paused. Finn noticed the hesitation, and his expression shifted. “Just for the future,” he explained. “If you want, I can save you a seat, so you don’t have to fight the crowd. I spend a lot of time here. Just text me when you get to the building. I can save you one of the good outlets.”

“Oh,” I said, a small wave of relief washing through me. “Right. Yes, that would be great. Thank you.”

I typed my number into his phone when he passed it over. When he took it back, he just saved it, set the phone next to his bio-stats notes, and took a sip of his coffee. We went back to working side by side in silence, until twenty minutes later when he stood back up.

“Well,” he said quietly, looking back at his textbook. “See you next time then.”

The second the door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in the small perimeter of our study space, my phone vibrated against the wood.

The screen read: Dad.

I let out a short, stressed breath through my nose, checking the time at the top of my laptop screen. 2:40 PM. The final draft of my corporate branding paper was due by five, and I was still two pages short of the required limit. I pressed my thumb against the green button, slipping my headphones on to keep my voice down.

“Hey, Dad,” I murmured, leaning over my keyboard to look like I was just talking to my screen. “I’m actually in the library right now. I’m right in the middle of a final pass.”

“Oh,” he said. The word came through the speaker lower than usual. “I won’t keep you long then. Just wanted to let you know the lawyer got the forms. Everything is sealed up.”

“Oh, great. That’s good news. Thanks for letting me know.” I kept my fingers hovering over my keyboard, my eyes scanning the paragraph I had been tracking before the interruption.

“It’s a nice afternoon here,” he said mildly. He didn’t hang up, which was the first real departure from his usual phone rhythm. “The hummingbirds are all over that feeder today. Must be four of them out there. I was just sitting on the porch watching them.”

“That’s great, Dad,” I said, my voice tight with a subtle, anxious impatience. I typed a single sentence, deleted it. “I’m glad they’re using it.”

“Your mother always said they liked the afternoon sun best,” he murmured. “I was just thinking about that.”

“Dad, I really have to go,” I interrupted, brushing him off before he could slide any further into the memory. My chest was starting to do that familiar, high stress tighten that had nothing to do with ghosts and everything to do with a ticking academic clock. “I have two hours to finish this conclusion or I’m going to lose a letter grade.”

“Right,” he said. His tone was entirely peaceful, lacking any of the sharp, demanding irritation that usually followed a rejection. “Go do your work, Seren. I’ll take a picture of the hummingbirds for you.”

“Okay. I’ll call you on Sunday night, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

By four-thirty, my final sentence was typed, and the file was uploaded to the student portal. The library had begun to empty out, the frantic, suffocating energy of the afternoon draining away as the afternoon began its transformation into evening.

I was sitting back in my chair, staring blankly at my screensaver, when a familiar hand dropped onto the wood next to my blue mug. I looked up. Zane was standing there, his jacket slung over one shoulder, his dark hair a little messy from where he had clearly been running his fingers through it during the exam. But the heavy, anxious look he had carried all morning was completely gone. His shoulders were loose. His eyes were bright.

“Tell me you’re done,” he said, his voice a low hum in the quiet of the library floor.

“I’m done,” I breathed, a massive, unprompted smile breaking across my face. “I just submitted it.”

Zane let out a short, triumphant laugh, reaching down to grab my bag from the floor. “Good. Because if I had to think about molecular structures for another five minutes, my head was going to explode. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

The walk back to the blue apartment felt entirely different from our walk there this morning. The air was hot, smelling of early summer and asphalt, and the campus felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off the entire student body at once. Zane kept his arm slung over my shoulders, pulling me in close against his side as we walked, his thumb tracing slow, happy circles against my collarbone.

“How did it go?” I asked, looking up at him. “The final?”

“Crushed it,” he said, and there was not a single trace of doubt in his voice. He looked younger when he smiled like this, the sharp, defensive edges of his features softening into something easy and content. “The essay section was exactly what I studied last night. Every single question. I sat there writing for two hours straight. I think my hand is permanently cramped, but it’s over.”

“I told you,” I said, nudging his ribs with my elbow. “All those highlighters paid off.”

“They did,” he agreed, leaning down to press a quick, hard kiss to the top of my head. “But mostly I just wanted to get back to you. I have spent the last hour thinking about making a massive dinner, forcing the radiator off with a wrench, and not looking at a single piece of paper until September.”

By the time we let ourselves into the apartment, the space was flooded with gold peace. It felt comfortable. It felt safe. Zane dropped his backpack by the door with a satisfying thud and turned to wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me flat against his chest. “No more exams,” he murmured against my neck, his lips tracing a slow path up to my jaw.

“No more exams,” I whispered, my hands sliding up into his hair.