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My mouth dropped. “You did not.”

“I did.”

“But… He always had a girlfriend. He never showed any interest in me.”

Her face darkened, and she pinned a lock of hair just so. “Yes, I remember his girlfriends. Each and every one of them. They all had a lot in common, didn’t they?”

For some reason, my heart sped and tripped through my chest. Back then, Cam’s girlfriends were proof that I never stood a chance. Camden Shepherd only dated top-shelf.

“Pretty girls from good families with money,” I said.

Ivy clicked her tongue. “Yup, but I was never convinced he even liked ’em.”

A flash of memory attacked, of studying in my little hideout in the library—the corner near the reference section, where no one ever ventured. Even the librarian, far on the opposite side of the stacks, left me alone. I often sought that quiet corner before cross-country practice, hoping to get a head start on homework, and I was never disrupted.

Until that day.

The noises the girl made caught my attention first—a series of huffy breaths that made me think someone had been running. But then came the tiny whimpers, and a second, deeper voice hushing her.

My entire body froze as I realized what was happening, and I scanned my surroundings for any route of escape. The corner—my perfect hideout—had only one exit, and to reach it, I had to pass by the stack in which the couple hid…doing things. They’d certainly see me, and that was⁠—

No way. I’d rather suffer in anonymity than be subjected to that embarrassment.

Her moans hushed as if someone had pressed a hand over her mouth. Was it her own hand? His? What exactly was he doing to her? Given the lack of more rhythmic sounds, I imagined something more delicate.

Perhaps fingers.

Or a tongue.

My skin turned hot at the mental image, and with the girl’s clearly repressed, yet un-faked sighs of pleasure, a heartbeat picked up low in my stomach.

Oh, gross! I was a voyeur.

I scrambled to gather my things, no longer caring whether I was witnessed. While the timing and location were completely inappropriate, I wouldn’t begrudge them their pleasure.

I’d just zipped my backpack and stood when a muffled squeak of rapture floated toward me, and all went quiet.

“Oh my god,” the girl whispered after a few seconds. “You are⁠—”

“—late for practice?” he whispered back.

She giggled. “Worth it.”

“We have to go.”

“I’ll go first,” she said. “You follow in a minute.”

The girl darted from the stack, and I got a glimpse of familiar dark hair and long legs. She was looking the other way as she passed my corner, and thankfully didn’t see me.

But I saw her.

Blair Ellsworth.

Which meant the boy was⁠—

Oh, no.

I searched my corner frantically for a hiding spot, but there was nothing. I could only hope he’d look the other way as Blair had. Sinking back into my chair, I seriously considered crawling under the table to hide.