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Without another word, he leaves and closes the door behind him.
Yeah, I don’t think I’m taking Jack to any royal shindig.
As if smelling blood in the water, Lee invites himself into my room and sprawls across the foot of my bed like he’s posing for a boudoir photo session.
“What did Jackie want?” he demands suspiciously.
“Nothing, really. We were talking about midterms,” I lie. “He might need some study help.”
“Well, that’s boring.” Lee props up on his elbow and plants hishead in his palm. “You didn’t say earlier—how was lunch with Lord Tulley? Give me details. Don’t spare anything.”
“Can we do this tomorrow?” I ask with a yawn. I’m mentally exhausted.
He furrows his brow, sitting up. “You all right?”
“I’ve got a headache coming on.”
“Say no more.” Lee jumps up. “I’ll bring you a cuppa and leave you be.”
He’s almost out the door when I call his name. He turns at the threshold.
I swallow a smile. “Better get your tux pressed.”
He makes an ear-piercing noise like a chew toy exploding and dashes off.
I’m not stoked about breaking the news to Celeste, but I’m fairly sure she was only joking about leaving me for dead in an alley. Truth is, Lee’s been a good friend since the night I arrived jet-lagged and confused at his doorstep. Seems only right I return the favor.
NOVEMBER
22
THERE’S A SMALL COHORT OF US WHO TEND TO OCCUPY THE SPECIALarchives section at the library. My first few days among their ranks, I received more than a few curious glances and suspicious glowers. Now on the back end of the semester, they’ve accepted me as one of their own. We nod at one another as we comb the stacks. Recognize the official dibs status of one another’s desks and preferred reading nooks. It’s a silly thing, yet coming in after class knowing I won’t have to fight for a seat is a small reassurance that despite the chaos popping off at home, the library is still a safe and sacred retreat.
Even Mr. Baxley with his derisive scowl and militant adherence to archaic bureaucracy has become a welcome part of my routine.
In need of another book, I approach his fortress. He’s got the clipboard of forms ready before I can pull out a pen.
REASON FOR REQUEST:
Vitamin D Deficiency.
He doesn’t smile at my form, but I think he wants to.
There’s only so much bland Tulley trivia I can parse in one sitting, however, before my vision goes blurry. After more than an hour, I take a break to brush up on my royal etiquette. I’d overlookedthe need until Lee mentioned at breakfast that a side effect of this ball meant I had a lot of curtsying in my future and I’d better get some lunges in to strengthen those knees. Also, I’m not sure of my agility in heels. It’s been a while since I went out in anything fancier than a pair of two-inch leather boots.
When I’ve had all the fun I can stand for one day, I return my books, wave at Mr. Baxley, and brave the blustery weather while slipping on my coat outside the library.
Winter is already beating against the door, and the city is quieter as the weather’s turned. Everyone is huddled and hurried. No moms and nannies with strollers stopping for a chat. The summer sightseers are long gone. No more food trucks and sidewalk vendors. I know it gets old for the locals, but I enjoy the gloomy gray clouds and shadowy pall over the city on days like this. The daunting ominousness. It’s the London I’ve always imagined in my head.
As I’m debating what to do about lunch, a text message pops up. From Nate.
Nate: Fancy some lunch?
I stare at the phone. The correct answer to that question is a resoundingno. But I’m a glutton for heartache.
Me: Sure. I’m starving. Just leaving the library.
Nate: I’m about ten minutes away. Can I pick you up?
