Page 97 of Wanted Beta

Holy fuck. Maybe I really got hurt in that fight.

Everything seemed normal to me, but if I sounded like crap …

“That came out wrong,” she says quickly. “What I meant was it was great, but I was kind of tired and I sort of fell asleep until the next band came on and started all their screeching. So, I guess I kind of missed most of it. Sorry.”

“Oh,” I murmur, wondering what to make of that.

Most people don’t just pass out in public places.

I mean, unless there are substances being abused, or something.

“I haven’t been sleeping too well lately,” she adds when I don’t say anything else. “I guess the lack of rest caught up to me. It was kind of embarrassing, to be honest. I think I might have drooled on Enzo’s leg. He must think I’m such a mess.”

“He didn’t mention it,” I assure her. “You must have been pretty exhausted to fall asleep in a bar.”

“I guess,” she says, shrugging.

She tugs at the sleeves of her jacket, and I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it as she wraps her arms around her middle. It’s not cold, but she’s uncomfortable about something.

I’d bet good money on her ex.

I want to ask about him, but I don’t want her to shut down on me completely.

“Do you feel safe at home?”

“I do,” she tells me, nodding. “I’m just … I’m having doubts about the course I’m taking, and I have a lot to work through with that.”

“So, you’re at college.”

“I’m in my first semester.”

“What’s the course?” I ask, curious now.

“Information Systems,” she says, shooting me a wry smile when I give her a blank look. “It’s the course you need to take to become a Librarian.”

It takes a second for that to sink in, I’ll admit.

She doesn’t exactly have the quiet little mouse vibe that I associate with that kind of work.

“What?” she asks, when I don’t say anything.

“I was trying to picture it,” I admit. “I’m kind of shocked, to be honest.”

“We just met,” she reminds me.

“You’re not a librarian,” I tell her, knowing I’m right the second the words come out of my mouth. It’s obnoxious to tell anyone who or what they can be or do, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

“Well, no, because I haven’t finished my degree yet,” she says, going with semantics as her line of defence. “It’ll take a few years to get there.”

“But you’re having doubts?”

She shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just kind of bored.”

“It sounds like a boring course. What was your first choice?”

“It was my first choice.”

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she laughs.

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