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Jess
Iam at the library, with its old bookcases and shiny Mac workstations. A stunning contrast to the historic buildings within Kenyan. The more time that passes, the older this place seems. I examine my earbuds from the dollar store and discover that I need an adaptor to use them with the computer.Damn it.
I really needed to hear the song he dedicated. I can't use a prepaid phone since I can't afford applications or internet service. I could ask Gia for her phone, but I'd feel awkward asking her for it and explaining why. I know she wouldn't judge me because Gia is perfect in that way.
I haven't contacted her because she is going through her personal shit with the Bedford twins, recovering from Warren’s attempt and planning her wedding. I'm looking around when someone taps my shoulder. I jolt and turn to see who it is.
"Woah, I'm sorry," Marc says with raised hands.
I place a hand over my chest to calm my racing heart. "You scared me."
"It's okay. I was just wondering if you needed help." He grins.
I hold the cheap earbuds in my hands by the string. "I was trying to connect these, but I don't have the fancy Bluetooth kind."
His expression softens. "Oh, I can fix that."
He moves to the help center, where his desk is located, and holds out a fancy pair with the Bluetooth function. "Here, you can borrow mine. Anytime."
I take them and smile at his kindness. Marc has that boy-next-door look. Fitted Henley and khakis with a pair of Sperry shoes. When I stopped by the library several times, I noticed his brown hair falling over his brow. I also noticed he needed to wear his glasses. It was the only time I had come to the library to study when people wouldn't stare at me because of what happened freshman year when I noticed him. Now, I try to remain unseen.
"Thank you, Marc," I say softly, turning around and heading back to the computer.
I connect the headset and listen to the song Zero wrote down. I hear the words. The music is ethereal and haunting. The sound of rain in the background mixed with the soft vocals underneath a storm of thunder. It reminds me of him, of me, of us. The words call to me like he is holding me in the echoes of chaos when no one has understood or bothered to pay attention to the pain in my heart. A single tear rolls down my cheek when the song ends. Not because I'm sad. But because I didn't want it to end.
When the song’s finished playing, I walk toward Marc with the headphones in hand to express my gratitude as he looks up.” Thank you," I tell him.
He twirls a pen between his fingers but doesn't take them. "You can hold on to them. We can meet at the café around two, and you can return them to me then. It would give you time to use them for a bit longer."
I'm about to turn him down, but then the sound of something large falling has me whipping my head around to see a large bookshelf collapse, causing books to rain down and the wood to break into splinters.
Marc jumps out of his seat toward the catastrophic mess.
"Shit," he mutters when I catch up to him.
The whole shelf has tumbled down, and books are scattered everywhere. The librarian makes an appearance, looking like an old caretaker of an estate. "Oh, dear. What a mess. I wonder how that happened?" she asks, dumbfounded, with her hand on her hips. "Marc, would you stay and help me clear all these books?"
Marc’s face falls and I feel bad, but I have to get to class. I’m relieved I didn’t have to turn him down on the offer to meet at the café. There was no need to hold on to the headphones when I don’t have anything to connect them to, but I’m saved from having to explain.
“I would love to help but I have class.”
Marc looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up. With a look of disappointment and disbelief, he stares at the mountain of books and the ruined bookshelf like they will magically right themselves. I hate to leave him with the librarian on his own, but I can’t miss class. It’s economics and I haven’t begun the assignment that is due in two days.
* * *
I walk into class and my eyes are scanning, searching for Michael. Fear claws my insides for what he has in store for me. I have been so consumed with my masked stalker that there is nothing I can think about other than his words, his letters, and his touch.
I take a seat and watch as people filter in the classroom. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath when I finally see Michael come through the door. His eyes immediately scan the room and land on mine. His dirty blond hair is styled with gel, making it stiff. I bet it would catch fire if I threw a match at his head. It would be a good way to get revenge for what he has done to me.
“Hey, I plan to take you to a party on Friday. Be ready at seven,” he says softly when he passes by my desk.
“I can’t,” I reply, watching his eyes harden in satisfaction. “You’re not the only one I go out with.”
I need to throw the sons of Kenyan out there. Maybe he will back off. It isn’t a lie. He raises a brow in challenge and catches his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Is that right?”
“It is,” I deadpan.
