Page 5 of Falling for Roxanne

“You’re geeking out over some old books?” Cathy asked me.

“I can’t help it. I love libraries.”

“You have a phone. You can get any information in the world on that magical tiny box, babe. Time to move into the present day.”

“Not everything is online, especially legal libraries—I hit a paywall, so I have to go get the original source right here. For free.”

“It smells here,” Cathy teased, “and not like a coffee shop either. Like old stuff. It smells like my grandpa’s house.”

“Your grandpa lives in a library? So cool,” I joked.

We scanned our student IDs and made our way back to the section we needed. Our Ethics class required some pretty musty old citations, and I was not one to cut corners and cite something I hadn’t actually read.

I located the reference books I needed and sat down to scan the relevant pages and take notes. I settled in at a table and spread out my stuff, and Cathy came to join me. It would only have taken about half an hour if I could have focused.

Unfortunately, I kept looking at my hand like the skin was singed where I had touched Hamilton Bell. I was breathing harder than I should have been, and my pulse was fast just from the recollection of that brief contact with his hand. It sent a shiver all through me.

My ability to hold an ink pen steady was suffering under the power of the memory. My notes looked sloppy. I’d have to recopy them because the numbers looked wonky and illegible. I just blinked at them absently.

“Hello!” Cathy whispered, annoyed, waving her hand in front of my face. “What is up with you? You checked out and didn’t hear a word I said!”

I looked at her, surprised. “Sorry,” I said. “I was concentrating.”

“On what? Your handwriting looks like you were trying to take notes while riding a motorcycle. And you are Miss Precise. So, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat under the scrutiny.

“Ooh,” she said, in a suggestive whisper, “you’ve been acting flaky ever since you had an intimate convo with Professor Gorgeous. Somebody’s got a crush.”

“Shh,” I said, annoyed, “we’re in a library. We’ll get kicked out.”

“It’s not exactly crowded and I’m whispering. You’re just cranky because I figured out the problem. You’re hot for teacher!” she said in a near-squeal.

“Hush!” I said, embarrassed, “and we didn’t have a conversation, I just asked him I if could apply for the internship.”

“So, asking him one question can get you that flustered? I saw you come out with some papers. Was it his phone number? Directions to the motel that rents rooms by the hour?” she said.

“Stop. You’re disgusting. It’s an application to intern in his office.”

“I bet you’d like that, you dirty girl,” she giggled.

“You are such a freak,” I said, rolling my eyes at her, “look up your Ethics information. You know, ethics like not imagining wild sexual relationships between faculty and grad students…”

“Well, I was wrong,” she said, “here I thought you were attracted to him but there’s some wild sexual relationship going on? Girl, you need to go out and get laid. Get you some vitamin D, stat.”

“Really? Look, I don’t have time for that. I have a law degree to finish and an internship to land.”

“Then you better make time. Think about it. You made time to get a latte this morning, which you wanted. You made time to do at-home pedis last week just for the fun of it. I know you’re busy, but we have to carve out time for self-care. And if you don’t think orgasms are self-care, you really need to get your priorities straight. And I don’t mean taking five minutes once a week to rub one out. I mean you need some dick.”

“Cathy!” I hiss-whispered, giggling, “you’re the worst!”

“No, you’ll be the worst if you keep being a cranky celibate. No one likes a salty bitch, babe.”

“You’re a salty bitch and I love you,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Same here, babe.”

We finished our research quietly with only the occasional giggle. I sometimes wondered if Cathy and her shenanigans were all that kept me sane, and other times I wished she wasn’t so astute. Because there was always a sharp truth in her teasing—in this case that I was too serious and needed to have some fun.

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