Page 28 of For Dear Life

Where are you?

I swing an arm through a sleeve as I reply,

Meet me in the library again

Crap. As I rush across campus, I scout the front of the building for familiar cars—police, Dorian, Sawyer… None.

Huh?

The hallways are empty, as is the library. The only time anybody comes to the place at a weekend is when cramming their brains full of information that they’ve no chance will stick before exam week. In fact, the library’s empty most days apart from those.

I slow down as I enter, side-eying the young, female librarian, who’s facing the other way before half-sprinting up the stairs to our corner. Violet’s studying something on her phone, the cute crease on her brows. I’m about to hug Violet before she spots me, and those defensive arms go across her chest.

“Are you alright?” I say.

“You’re pink and breathing funny,” she says. “A number of things cause this. Which one?”

“I ran here.”

“Ran?” She looks me up and down as if I told her I flew.

“Your message?”

“Yes?”

“That you need me. I panicked!” I say.

“Oh.” Her eyes go wide. “I meant I need you tonight. This evening. To come somewhere with me.”

“Then this isn’t an emergency?” I pull out a chair to sit, catching my breath. “Violet, be more specific next time.”

“Very well. Tell me. What items might exist in a bowling alley that could kill?” she asks.

“Depends on how gruesome you want the murder, I suppose,” I reply, completely confused. “There’re the heavy balls. The machinery. Shoelaces for strangling someone with. Why?”

“Can you do it?”

My voice drops to a hushed whisper. “Do what, Violet? Murder someone?”

“Good grief, Rowan. That would not be at all helpful. Can you throw balls at…whatever they’re called?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Will you take me?”

“Bowling?”

“Please keep up, Rowan.”

I laugh loudly enough that she looks taken aback, look down at the cute, diminutive ball of danger. “Are you asking me on a date, Violet Blackwood?”

“No. I’m asking you to accompany me somewhere for an evening.”

“Otherwise known as a date.” I bite my lip, enjoying the frustration I triggered in her. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

She bares her teeth at me. “I don’t go on dates.”

“Like you don’t kiss people?” She shows me more teeth. “Is that supposed to scare me away?”

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