Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

I've never been to the U of C. I'm trying to study up on the campus and surrounding area. And honestly, I'm sick of doing that. So, if anything's wrong, I don't care. Please ignore it.

Also. Sounds like very few of you have any faith left in Bella. Don't worry. She's not a complete lost cause. Read on.

The University of Chicago library looks as though it materialized straight out of a Sci-fi movie.

The stunning stature still intimidates me to this day. I always have to stop and look at it, take it all in before working up the nerve to step inside.

The shuffle of papers echoes off the walls as soon as I walk in. I can smell the pages of age-old books permeating from floor to ceiling.

It instantly calms me. Like nothing can bring me harm. Not even the doings of a certain guy and his androgynously named companion who should be here at any moment.

Steering clear of the entrance, I head for the nonfiction section where thousands of unread romances are calling my name and I feel most comfortable.

I used to read horror. Loved everything about it until I enrolled in U of C and started seeing and hearing the stories every day in real life. By winter quarter of my first year, I had my fill. A whole genre ruined for me and my greedy eyes.

Bookshelves flank me on either side. All filled with a colorful array of books in all different sizes. Thin ones. Fat ones. Short ones. Tall ones. They match all the people who are eating up the words and spitting them back out in a different formation for their papers.

I swear the whole state of Illinois is here tonight. It's a wonder how so many people can coexist this quietly yet still be making so much noise at the same time.

The combined body heat in this place is stifling. I unbutton my coat and strip it off to drape it over my forearm.

Better than Xanax.

I stretch my neck and take a deep breath, remembering what I'm here for and that I'm in a public place, therefore totally safe.

The number of people makes it fairly easy for me to blend in. I scan from side to side then behind me, making sure I don't miss him coming in. If he even does come in. The text just had a time and a place.

Eight o'clock. Regenstein.

Looking up at the clock, I see that it's five after and I'm standing in the center of the Joseph Regenstein library, looking like I'm lost.

I head to the back and grab a random book, tucking myself into a corner facing the room so I can covertly scan the tables. I wait there for fifteen minutes with no luck of spotting Edward or even someone that remotely looks like a Laurie.

I'm almost relieved. But not enough not to check the new part of the library before going back home. Putting the book back, I head into the dome where I don't find Edward but instead find it's started to snow.

Snowflakes flutter down to stick to the edges of the glass, making the room cooler than the main part of the library.

The clicking of keys on keyboards is much quieter than the flipping of thick manilla pages.

I take a minute to admire how tranquil the glass ceiling makes the winter seem because I know as soon as I step outside I'm going to be cursing the frigidness of the season. It's the only time of year I truly miss Miami.

Adjusting my coat to drape over my other arm, I head back out toward the main reading area.

A flash of red bounces off the fluorescent lights and catches my eye just as quickly as he disappears around the corner.

My heart races, stunning me where I stand. No way he saw me or he would have stopped and said something. Probably put me in my place once again.

But then I remember where I am and that I have the perfect alibi for being here tonight.

I'm a student, after all. And what do students need? Books. And where do you find them? Libraries.

Slinking along the wall, I peek around the corner to find the hallway empty. I take the lightest steps I can manage to get to the end where I hear whispers coming from behind one of the stacks.

I'm like a ninja, silently sidestepping down one of the vacant aisles until I see the back of a head full of wildly brazen hair. And, ha! If that's Laurie who's with him, it is a guy!

Edward stops talking. I stop celebrating when he looks around, no doubt now feeling my presence in the room. I duck to a lower shelf, level with their hands, just in time to see him pass something to the guy who's with him.

It's drugs.

I knew it.

Damnit.

It hits me all at once. The insanity. The silliness. The unbelievably naive idea that this could go anywhere. I feel incredibly stupid for ever thinking it. For ever taking him home to begin with. Then meeting him. And following him around like a clueless stalker.

They take off, and I head to the back to hide behind the end of a stack until I'm sure they're gone.

My guard's down by the time I make it back out to the main reading room. The crowd has thinned somewhat, leaving a couple tables nearly empty. I stop in my tracks when I spot Edward sitting all alone at one of them.

He seems immersed in the book he's reading, holding it open with both hands. I almost forget all the self-chastising I did over him just a few minutes prior until someone sneaks up and scares the ever loving shit out of me.

"Hey, Bella."

I jerk slightly, craning my neck to find one of my art history classmates standing behind me. He's wearing the same Bob Marley T-shirt he's always wearing. His dirty blond dreadlocks are pulled back in a ponytail, the flyaways unwilling to be tamed. His once full beard has been shaved down to a goatee that looks surprisingly fitting on him. While still too hairy for my liking, the familiar face helps me relax a little.

"Hey, Felix. What are you doing here?" I ask like it's not obvious by the pile of books he's pushing around.

"I work here part time to help pay for housing."

I nod, my gaze searching the room then zoning in on Edward again.

"Hey, you finish the paper that's due Friday?" Felix asks, nudging my arm.

"Uh, yeah." I study the movement of Edward's hands. How he flips the page then wipes his nose before grabbing on with both hands again.

"That's cool. What did you do it on? Maybe you could help me with mine."

"Western attitudes toward Renoir and Impressionist artists. What about yours?"

"Well, that's the thing. I don't know what I want to do it on yet."

"You don't know?" I ask, looking over at him like he's crazy.

"Yeah. I was thinking something different. Unexpected. Ya know? Like the history of postcards or something. What do you think?"

He cheeses at my blank stare. I turn away, my voice softening. "That's definitely different."

He continues talking about Post-its or postcards. What the hell ever they are until he catches on that I'm not listening.

"You know Tony?"

"Who?" My ears perk up.

"Tony. The guy over there in the Velvet Underground hoodie."

I give him a look.

"The one with the banana."

Banana? Is he high?

He blows out a laugh as if he's read my mind. "On the hoodie."

I look back over at Edward's sweatshirt and squint.

Huh.

Is that what that is?

At that moment, Edward slams the book shut and stops by the checkout desk before heading outside.

I decide to hang back a few minutes and chat with Felix, trying not to seem too disappointed. "No. I don't know him at all."