Page 46 of Pack Baines

The girl is talking so fast, that I can only turn my head toward her and blink. Right before I blurt, “Are you in a rush or something? Practicing for a rap battle? Why are you talking to me like you’re trying to cast a hex on me?”

Silver stares for all of two seconds before she’s laughing. It’s that loud, infectious, ‘head thrown back’ kind of laughter, and I see Munro eye her from my peripheral, his head jerking toward her at the first note of her laugh. Almost like he can’t help himself, or the way his mouth parts slightly, his eyes widening a fraction… Oh? Oh! Oooh, okay. I’m storing that in my pocket for a later date.

“Sorry. I’ve had two energy drinks and a coffee this morning,” she eventually explains once she’s calmed down enough, sliding her phone across the table to me. “I do need your number, though. How else am I supposed to get to know my new bestie if I can’t text or call?”

I must be possessed by something unholy, because my stupid ass picks the cellphone up and I type in my number, knowing damn well it’s going to bite me in the ass later. Lord knows, the last thing I need is to be adopted by an extroverted explosion of color, sass, and hyperactivity.

Looks like I’ve got no say in the matter, though, because she slides her cell back, taps merrily away for a few seconds, and then pockets her cell before grinning at me. “There. Now you have mine. Anyway, I have to go call my cousin before he shows up and demands that I give him attention. Later, bestie.”

Then the omega presses a kiss to my cheek, bringing her bubblegum scent, before she disappears into the crowd, pulling a pair of sky blue headphones over her silver and pastel hair.

“What, and I can’t stress this enough, the fuck was that?” Munro finally asks, staring in the direction Silver vanished.

My eyebrows pinch in confusion, because I don’t actually know. “My best friend?”

At that, Munro’s hard expression softens slightly, his lips twitching with amusement. “You telling or asking?”

My expression flattens and I glare at him. “You’re a dick.”

“Now you’re catching on. Why do you think I’m a loner?” the guy snorts, right before he digs into his slice of cake, and I have to force myself not to smile mockingly at him. Sadly, I mustn't do a good job, or else he senses my struggle, because without looking up from his cake, he hurries to say, “You better keep your mouth shut, or else I won’t be your friend at all.”

Sure enough, I find myself miming my mouth shut with a zipper, and the two of us fall back into a peaceful silence while we eat. And through the remainder of our break, I find myself realizing how much I’ve enjoyed myself in what little time I’ve spent here at North U already.

Chapter 18

Juniper

After our little break, Munro and I find ourselves seated in a lavish library, filled with twisty stairs and rolling ladders that we’re all warned not to stand on and reenact that beast and rose movie. Spoil sports, if you ask me, but I digress.

“How many books do you think are in here?” I wonder, a little too loud for a quiet library, but Munro shrugs like he’s actually contemplating my question.

Before he can answer, however, a sweet voice to my right answers. “Close to twenty million, and that would be a mixture of paperbacks, hardbacks, and other reading materials you’ll find here.”

Turning, I see a small woman, in height and stature, standing behind a heavy-looking desk with paperbacks littered over every surface. An ornate lamp highlights a keyboard that belongs to an expensive laptop, and a coffee cup sits nearby, along with a book I recognize. So, the librarian reads smut. I like her already.

“Sorry,” the woman blushes, her pale, freckled cheeks turning red. “I overheard and couldn’t help but answer.”

“All good. I wouldn’t have guessed that much anyway,” Munro shrugs, completely unbothered, right before the ass walks away and leaves me standing awkwardly in the middle of the library, staring at the woman with dark-copper hair pulled into a cute bun and dressed in black slacks, black courtroom heels, and a burnt-orange chiffon shirt that flows around her shoulders and is French tucked into her waistband.

Looking over at where Munro decides to sit, I make a note of it and head toward the woman as she stands on the wrong side of the desk, bending to pick up a pile of fallen books. I reach for a few of them before handing them over with a polite smile, and she offers one of relief and gratitude before she quietly says, “Thank you. Today is not my day. This isn’t the first stack I’ve knocked over, and it’s only my second day here.”

“We all have days like that,” I huff a chuckle, having had more than my fair share of bad days in my time. “You’re new?”

The fair-skinned and petite woman nods, smiling sheepishly. “The librarian before me retired at the end of the last school year. I’m his replacement, and he left the place looking like a bomb of paper had hit it. I’m just frazzled, but there’s nothing like a challenge to get the blood flowing and the brain working, right?”

“If you say so,” I snicker, handing her another book before standing. I haul my bags higher on my shoulder before offering her a gentler smile now that I know she’s having a shitty time, and say, “I hope your day improves…?”

“Oh. Zira. Well, no, it would be Miss Favero to a student, right?” she stumbles over her words, grimacing.

Poor woman.

“Yeah,” I snort, and I kind of feel bad when her cheeks redden that little bit more. So, to make her feel better, I say, “Thank you for answering my earlier question, Miss Favero. Is there any chance you could tell me where to find the section on anything photography related?”

“Yes! I can do that. That’s my job. I’m a librarian,” she excitedly rushes to say, and it reminds me of a movie about a book smart woman who travels into the Egyptian desert and awakens a mummy with a handsome guy with suspenders and her asshat brother.

Sure enough, minutes later, Miss Favero is handing me a scribbled note, with loopy writing, of all the sections I might want to look for, how many books are in each section, and where to find them all.

Leaving her happily smiling at her computer screen, I tuck the note in my pocket and sit opposite Munro at his chosen table. Placing my camera bag on the table between us, I quietly confirm, “You were right. The library is a dream.”

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