Page 30 of The Lies We Tell Ourselves

“Ava,” Mal cautioned, his tone all but telling her to zip it.

“What? It could be fun.”

My stomach flipped at the thought. “I think I’m all partied out for the time being. I don’t want to run the risk…”

Mal grimaced. “We’ll talk tomorrow and sort something out?”

“Sure,” I ground out.

They walked me to the library before hugging me goodbye. I felt buoyed after speaking to Jessie, even though I didn’t make it out with Ava and Mal for dinner. Nothing was going to put a dampener on my mood. Truth was, I couldn’t really afford it. Instead, I planned on grabbing a sandwich on my way back to my dorm.

The sound of the door closing behind me echoed through the cavernous space of the library. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the muted light, but something about the atmosphere in here soothed me. The domed ceiling was an amazing piece of architecture that drew my eye as soon as I walked in. It never got old. Suspended from their peaks were cut glass chandeliers that cast rainbow fractals over the overstuffed shelves that filled the building. Interspersed between row upon row of books were tables peppered with students. There was a surprising number of people in here, considering it was the first Friday of the semester.

Was it weird to feel a sort of camaraderie with people I didn’t know just because they were here working on their assignments when the rest of the student body was out living it up?

I was a homebody at heart, even though it had been years since I’d had one. It was one of the only things I truly craved. I didn’t think home was a place defined by its position on a map, marked by longitude and latitude. No, to me, home was a moment in time. A memory. A person. An unattainable dream that had been ripped from my grasp when it was almost tangible. I’m sure I’m cursed to hope for things that can never be.

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.” It was one of mom’s favorite sayings. I missed her so much, and it hurt to think I’d never get to see her smile again or be enveloped in her arms.

My thoughts seemed to want to pile problems on top of problems. I had so many, it was easy to get lost in them. I overthought. I over cared. I over loved, and I over trusted people, which ultimately meant I got over hurt.

Shaking off that train of thought, I made my way to the section of the library I needed, then sought out an empty table. I dumped my bag on the table, parked myself in a chair, and pulled out my laptop. I logged onto the intranet, and it took me a few minutes to find Mr. Tunaley’s portal and the details of the assignment he’d set. Now, all I had to do was decide which topic I wanted to write about. “Explore how architectural design is influenced by the philosophies, methods, and technology of the fine arts” or “Explore how the current culture and intellectual theories have influenced modern-day architecture.”

“Easy,” I muttered to myself. “Not!” I shoved my laptop across the table as frustration burned through me. I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling while the minutes ticked past. Maybe I should just flip a damn coin. Releasing a weighted breath, I hauled my laptop back to me and pulled up the list of suggested reading material. Maybe I’d find the answers in there. If not, I’d see what book I found first and hope it had the solution to my current problem. It’s not like procrastinating would help me get my degree.There, choice made.

The looming bookshelves seemed to watch me the farther I walked into the stacks. My finger trailed along the spines as if the physical connection could help me decide what question I was going to pick. Ha! Who was I kidding? A heavy sigh punched out of me when I saw the book I was after, but even stretching up onto my tiptoes, I couldn’t reach it. Sometimes it really sucked being short.

I was about to turn back and grab my chair when the air seemed to shift around me, and the temperature dropped. The delicate hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end as my skin prickled with goosebumps. I sucked in a shuddering breath and glanced up and down the row but saw no one. Nothing seemed out of place. Trepidation crawled down my spine and spread across my skin, making me shiver.

“H-hello?” I croaked and waited. I couldn’t hear anything, and the ensuing silence only served to ratchet up my frayed nerves. I licked my dry lips as the feeling of being watched intensified, and the erratic pounding of my heart tried to tattoo itself onto my sternum.

“Is someone there?” Great, now I sound like every cliché murder victim in a cheesy horror movie. I scoffed at myself. Stuff like that didn’t happen in real life; it was just my overactive imagination.

“Stop being an idiot,” I scolded myself and stepped up onto the bottom shelf, praying it didn’t break under my weight. I rolled up onto my toes and braced the knee of my right leg on the shelf above, my fingertips skimming the spine of the book I needed. “Just a little bit farther.” I bit my lip as I focused, managing to grasp it and yanked it backward off the shelf. I lost my footing and slipped, falling backward. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion but also rushing so fast I couldn’t focus or brace for the inevitable impact.

A yelp ripped out of me as I smacked into something hard. No, not something, someone…if the low oof was anything to go by. “Watch it,” they growled as thick arms wrapped around me from behind before lowering me onto my feet. Large hands braced my hips as I got my balance.

“Fuck.” I gasped and rubbed my hand over my chest. I clutched on to the damn book in my arms like it was a lifeline as I tried to draw air into my lungs.

“Next time,” the husky voice chuckled, “use the ladders. That’s why they have them.”

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes locking with the dark fathomless depths of Dillon’s. All traces of humor vanished off his face as it contorted in anger. “T-thank you,” I stuttered, feeling the blood drain out of my face.

Dillon’s chest heaved as his stare bored into me. He clenched his fists so hard, his knuckles bleached white. I swallowed around the lump in my throat as tension thickened the air.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” he growled, the rasp in his voice like a visceral touch as he stepped into me, backing me up against the bookshelf. “What are you doing here, little crow?” The demand was unmistakable as the wood bit into my skin.

My eyes shuttered closed, and I shook my head, unwilling to look at the man who wore the face of the boy I once loved. You still do, a little voice whispered in my mind. “S-s-sorry.”

“That’s not good enough,” he bit out. I shivered at the intensity of his closeness, and every nerve ending came alive. His body heat seeped into me as he braced one arm beside my head, and I inhaled his musky sea salt scent. Heat unspooled in my stomach, something that had been dormant for years. I gasped when his other hand wrapped around my throat, his fingers biting into my skin. Dillon yanked my head up so I faced him. “You don’t belong here, little crow.”

“I…I…” Every word that sprang to mind dried up on my tongue before I could say it.

“You need to leave.” I blinked up at him, at a loss of who this person was before me. Gone were the kind eyes that used to greet me every morning. Gone was that smile that used to make my heart skip a beat. “Now!” He clenched his fingers tighter, making it impossible for me to breathe.

My heart thundered in my chest and echoed in my ears. My lungs screamed for oxygen as the edges of my vision started to fade to black. But I couldn’t look away from his desolate eyes. They hypnotized me, called to the brokenness that I hid behind my smile.

“D…D…” I rasped. My book slipped from my hands, landing with a resounding thud. I managed to wrap my fingers around his, relieving the intensity of the pressure against my throat. “D-Dillon… please.”

---