Page 58 of End Game

Ten minutes later I’m walking through the library, grateful as always that our house is close to campus. I move through the somewhat crowded tables, shocked to see so many students here bent over massive textbooks or tapping away at their laptops. Everyone’s got headphones on or earbuds in, and hardly anyone is talking. It’s so quiet in here I feel like I’m too loud, thanks to the slapping noise my flip-flops make as they hit the bare floor.

Clutching them with my toes to make them a little quieter, I slip through the maze of row after row of books, heading deeper into the library. Not as many people sit in the back, and that’s my favorite place to work. Much more peaceful.

And that’s what I’m seeking tonight. A little peace.

I turn left at one point, heading for my favorite quiet nook of tables and chairs, and come to an abrupt stop when I see who’s sitting there.

It’s Nico, his focus entirely on his laptop, his fingers moving slowly across the keyboard. Oh, and he’s wearing glasses like he’s freaking Clark Kent or something.

Damn it, he’s adorable with the glasses, because of course he is.

Panicking, I’m about to start walking backward and get the heck out of there when he glances up, his eyes widening when he spots me. He whips off his glasses, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Hey, friend.”

That’s what he’s been calling me the last week or so. He’s saying it just to get under my skin, and guess what?

It’s working.

“Hey.” I offer him an awkward wave because that’s my usual mode of operation when I’m near the guy. “I’ll leave you alone.”

I’m about to turn away and leave him when he says, “You can sit with me if you want.”

I shouldn’t want. I absolutely should not want to sit with Nico but ...

I do.

Turning back to face him, I smile and reach for the chair directly in front of me, pulling it out so I can settle in. “Thanks.”

“What are you working on?”

“I have a research paper I need to finish.”

“Ah.” He nods. “I’m working on an essay.”

“Sounds like we both have a lot of work to finish.” I wrinkle my nose. “And I’m not the best writer.”

“I do all right.” He shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders, drawing my attention to them. To him. He’s hard to look at because he’s so attractive. Currently I’m avoiding his face, my focus zeroing in on his chest.

He’s wearing a white Dolphins T-shirt with Billy the mascot in the center. The cotton stretches across his shoulders and chest, and his skin is tan from spending so much time outdoors. The man practically oozes with sex appeal, and I’ve made a huge mistake, agreeing to sit with him.

It’s too much. He’s too much.

“What’s up with the glasses?” I ask, needing to focus on something fairly nerdy about him, because trust when I say there is nothing nerd-like about this man.

“Oh. These.” He reaches for them, curling his fingers around them and picking them up. “They’re the blue-light ones. My vision gets fuzzy if I stare at a screen for too long.”

Ah, another flaw.

“You should probably get your eyes checked,” I suggest.

“I already have. They suggested these.” He holds up the glasses and then slips them on his face. “I look like a dork.”

He is the furthest thing from a dork.

“You do,” I say with a nod. He chuckles, about to take them off, but I shake my head. “Keep them on if they help you.”

“You won’t make fun?”

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