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“I know,” he replies with a small smile.
My heart tugs at his dedication. It must be exhausting being constantly on alert—especially for someone like me who doesn't make it easy on him.
I lose track of time, absorbed in highlighting passages and scribbling notes. I've been studying for hours. When I finally come up for air, rolling my stiff neck from side to side, I realize the library has grown quiet. I glance around—where did he slip off to?
A trickle of unease goes through me when I spot his vacant post. Dylan never leaves my side without alerting me first. I tilt my head, peering down the long aisles between the bookstacks. Nothing.
My pulse kicks up a notch. I remind myself that we're in a public library—what real danger could there be? I rise and pace to the window, scanning for any sign of him.
There's a small crowd exiting the cafeteria after dinner, but I can see no tall, broad-shouldered silhouette. Worry nags at me. It's not like him disappearing, especially after the lecture he gave me.
Movement catches my eye. Across the quad, Dylan exits the English building carrying a large box of books. The coils of anxiety in my chest loosen instantly.
An older woman ambles at his side, holding his arm for support. Even from this distance, I can see the strain each measured step causes her, yet Dylan matches her pace.
When they stop at the bottom of the stairs, he sets the box down and places a supporting hand beneath her elbow. She pats his cheek fondly before shuffling away.
Seeing Dylan’s usually serious face crease into a charming smile catches me off guard. His rugged features soften as he watches the woman go, looking less like an intimidating sentinel and more like a caring son. Unexpected warmth blooms in my chest. Beneath the brooding exterior, Dylan's a good man.
“He effortlessly puts people at ease, radiating a gentle protectiveness.”
My breath hitches as Dylan glances up, meeting my gaze through the second-story window. The smile still lingers on his lips.
He winks playfully before gathering the box again and heading toward the library entrance. Damn him, he knows just how to make me weak in the knees.
I press a hand to my flaming cheek, pulse skittering. Shaking off inappropriate daydreams, I gather my textbooks and notebooks into a haphazard pile.
I want to have everything ready for when Dylan returns. After witnessing that display of selfless chivalry, a small gesture of thanks is in order.
I hurry to the cafeteria, anticipation bubbling at the thought of having Dylan all to myself. I select sandwiches and snacks, imagining sitting close in the intimate study nook. I wonder if he'll smile at me more and relax his professional guard. The possibility sends my pulse racing.
I return from the cafeteria just as Dylan shoulders through the library’s heavy double doors. His eyes find me instantly, crinkling at the corners. My stomach performs a clumsy somersault.
I hold up the paper bag clenched in my sweaty palm.
“I brought dinner,” I announce, proud at how steady my voice sounds. “Just some sandwiches and snacks from the cafeteria.” I chance a small smile. “But I figured you could use a break.”
Dylan blinks down at me, looking genuinely touched. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I give a casual shrug, hoping it disguises my racing heart. “Consider it a peace offering.”
The skin around Dylan’s eyes crinkles. “Well, peace offering accepted then.”
With evening classes ended, the usually bustling building is empty. A prickle of something dances down my neck that has nothing to do with fear. Being alone with Dylan feels intimate. Forbidden.
I try not to notice how his black t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest when he moves. Clearing my suddenly dry throat, I unpack the food onto the table between us–two turkey clubs wrapped in plastic, salt and vinegar chips, and a pair of slightly squashed chocolate cupcakes.
It's hardly an Instagram-worthy spread, but it’s the comfort food you crave after a long, stressful day.
Dylan digs in hungrily. “This hits the spot, thanks, Gemma.”
“No problem. You've more than earned it.” I nibble at my sandwich, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
In the privacy of this small room, he seems changed somehow. More relaxed. Unguarded. I sneak glances at him through my lashes, taking in the lean muscles of his forearms where he’s rolled up his sleeves.
The sharp line of his jaw as he chews. The way he runs a hand through his dark golden hair, leaving it appealingly tousled.
We eat in silence for several minutes, the only sounds being the crinkling of paper bags and the cracking of soda cans. I nibble my sandwich, hyper-aware of Dylan’s presence on the other side of the small table.
