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I practically work up a sweat with the effort it takes. It's uncomfortable as hell, being all hot and bothered as I squirm in my seat, unable to do anything but sit and suffer.
Damn you, Oscar Jackson.
Grateful isn't the word for the emotion I feel when class finally ends and I can finally escape. Pen has to book it to her next class so she rushes out the door, shouting'details!'over her shoulder loud enough to draw stares.
I'm slinging my bag over my shoulder and silently cursing Pen's name when I hear my own name being called. When I turn around, I find Professor Jacobs beckoning me over. I frown as I approach him
“Is everything okay?” His question surprises me, even more so the genuine concern on his face.
“Uh,” I fidget with the strap of my tote bag, “yeah?”
“You seem distracted today.”
I hide my blush with an easy smile. “Everything is fine.”
“Good.” Jacobs nods, his tone and expression suddenly firm. “Make sure you pay attention in the future. Participation does contribute to part of your grade.”
“Understood.” And the real message is heard loud and clear too; don’t lead my daughter astray.
Luckily, my phone ringing saves me from this godawful conversation.
“Sorry, I need to take this.” I flash him an apologetic smile as I hold up my phone,Maflashing across the screen.
He nods jerkily and waves me away, an indecipherable look on his face as he watches me leave.
Weird.
16
LUNA
I don't frequentthe library often.
The quiet doesn't work for me, the people milling around distract me, and I can't blast my music obnoxiously loud like I can at home.
But I needed to get out of the apartment and away from the non-stop sibling re-bonding session Cass and Amelia have been on for days. It’s starting to get a little nauseating; as much as I love Cass’ frequent angry, vivid threats against Dylan's life, there are only so many mushy childhood stories and sappy moments I can take.
So, I’m braving UCSV’s draughty library that reeks of old books and mothballs just to escape all that healthy familiar love for a while, tucking myself in a quiet corner in an enormous leather armchair, my laptop propped on my lap and a list of readings to bang out. Or try to, at least. The couple across from me prove a particularly interesting distraction, what with being in the midst of a fantastically dramatic breakup.
I may or may not have purposely lowered the volume of my earphones just so I can eavesdrop. The girl is hurling some exceptionally creative insults at the guy, including colorful language I'm pretty sure is frowned upon being used in a library at a volume I'm definitely sure is frowned upon in a library.
I’m contemplating jotting down a few for future reference when my attention is abruptly torn away. A surprised gasp escapes me as a headphone is yanked from my ear. My head whips to the side, ready to hurl expletives at whoever’s so rudely interrupted me but the words evaporate when I find Jackson crouching down beside me. “Hi.”
A strange fluttering erupts in my stomach at the sight of him, a feeling that I shut down real fucking fast because I refuse to be a fluttery ditz who melts at surprise visits and single word greetings from pretty men. Though it's not easy with him smiling at me like that, all teeth and dimples and warm brown eyes.
“Uh, hi?” I remove my other earphone, forehead creased in a frown but a smile tugging at my lips. I’m surprised, sure, and slightly confused how he knew where I was, but it’d be a bare-faced lie to say I’m not happy to see him.
It’s been three days, three minuscule, inconsequential days, since I last saw him but, fuck me, I felt the loss. Texted him pretty much every damn minute, did my fair share of reliving a certain round of events, yet I missed him.
I hate myself a little for it but I missed him.
And I hatehimjust a little when I lean in, lips puckered and intentions clear only to be bypassed. Instead, he kisses my cheek, and I don’t quite manage to hold in my grumbled, indignant complaint. “What am I, your sister?”
“You'd like my sisters.” Jackson snickers as he scoops my laptop off my lap, shuts it, and tucks it into the bag at my feet. “They’re a little bratty too.”
I scoff an offended noise, ripping my hand away when he tries to grab it. “Rude.”
Ignoring me, he rises, crooks an expectant brow. “Ready?”
