In those first two days of classes, Elena was given list upon list of items she needed to purchase. Unfortunately, the inheritance her father left was small, and she'd used her half to cover the cost of the first year's tuition.
Thankfully, however, there was a sprawling library in the center of campus. It was housed in an old church building with two high spires and dark, iron architecture that made her shudder slightly.
Inside, the building was full of warmth. From floor to ceiling, there were books. In fact, there were books as far as the eye could see.
Sometimes, all a girl could ask for was unrestricted access to knowledge and a mountain of books to fall asleep on—or maybe that was just Elena.
The library was split into multiple wings, where books were stored by imperfect means. The answer to "Where is _?" turned up different results depending on who was working, where the book was actually located, and whether or not it was where it was supposed to be. Elena had given up on asking for help and instead wandered through the halls until she found the sections that corresponded with her current classes.
But it was all a mess, and it was with great luck that she found anything at all. She set her stack of books down on an adjacent chair and began to reorganize the small Greek section. Would Damon prefer alphabetical by author or by title? Definitely by author, the correct way to do it (anyone else was wrong). She began to carefully sort them by title. That'll show him.
It wasn't going to win her any secret society clues, but messing with Damon was honest work.
Unfortunately, as she was learning, Damon had an uncanny ability to catch her in somewhat compromising but definitely embarrassing positions. In this case, that position was holding a stack of three books under one arm and one in her other hand while surrounded by piles of books. She'd basically been caught as red-handed as possible.
And of course, Damon looked as smug as can be. He was probably relishing in her pink cheeks and grit teeth. She could see it in the way he held his body, the ways the corners of his lips turned up just a tick. He was a menace.
"Doing some light reading?" Damon asked, coming to a stop in the aisle and leaning against the side of the shelf. He looked at her massacre of the Greek section more clearly. "By title? Gosh, Gilbert, I'd think you were better than that."
"N-no!" She set the books down carefully and lifted her hands. How exactly was she supposed to explain this? "I would never—" She wasn't embarrassed about the mess, but god how was she supposed to face Damon again if he thought she liked to organize her books by title? She was just as aghast at the idea as he was!
"Right, well. You know they do have librarians here, right? They do that in exchange for money, and I think they know the systems."
"Right."
"Right." He said, emphatically.
"I mean, right! I work here. In exchange for money." She repeated his lame phrase and tried to keep from laughing and suffered maybe only a quirk of her lip.
"Oh, well. Good luck with that." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away without a goodbye.
He was already too far away but Elena yelled, "I don't need luck!" probably too loud for the library.
Once she was certain he was gone, she (very, very quickly) re-straightened the books in the correct order (by author) and then walked to the front desk, checking every so often to make sure Damon was nowhere nearby.
This was so stupid. This had to be the stupidest thing she'd ever done. And yet, she could not tell herself to stop.
She did, however, turn on the charm. "Hi there!" Elena was surprised and delighted to see a woman sitting behind the desk.
"How can I help you today, sir?"
"I actually was wondering if the library ever hires any students, or would want to hire any students—well, really one student in particular—for help in the library."
"Unfortunately, we don't offer jobs for students. I believe Harmon prefers that you're allowed to focus on your studies without interruption."
Elena sighed. Of course. Damon must have known that. Well, it was too late to go back on what she'd said now, and clearly this was the only way to move forward.
"I actually, I noticed that the shelves are a little messy—not a demerit of your work of course! But, I do think that I could be of assistance."
"Well, like I said—" She was cut off by someone placing a book on the desk to the right of her, just out of Elena's field of view. She had to turn to see that it was the one, the only.
Damon didn't even look in her direction. He handed his student ID to the librarian and watched her scan the book. In that time, Elena fully panicked.
She quickly said, "Never mind, so sorry" and walked away without looking back, shame showing on her face as she speed walked (nearly ran) out of the building. It wasn't until she got back to her dorm that she realized she still didn't have the books she needed.
The next day wasn't quite so shameful. On the way to her morning classes, someone called her name from across the quad. "Gilbert!" The twins sat on a blanket in the shade of an American chestnut tree. There was a flask tossed to the side and some small containers of food. James waved her down and because she had no immediate escape, she obliged.
"Gentlemen," she said, giving a little tip of her hat.
"No need to be so formal," James said. They didn't make any space on the blanket or move at all at her arrival, so she just stood standing over them, looking down her nose.
"I don't think he remembers our names," John said.
"Or maybe just can't tell us apart."
Elena stared at them dumbly for a moment before snapping back into reality. "James and John." She pointed at the corresponding twin.
"Impressive honestly," said John. "It takes most people a few weeks at least, usually."
"The differences are obvious. Anyways, was there something you needed?" Elena asked, glancing back and forth between the two.
They shared a look that she didn't understand.
"We'd actually like to invite you over to our place tonight. We do a family dinner with the rest of the class every Thursday. And since apparently you're in our class now—I suppose that includes you," said John.
James however, was a tad nicer about the invitation. "Don't mind him. We want you to come."
She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking about Damon. It didn't matter if he would be there or not. All she would have to worry about was not embarrassing herself further, and how could it get much worse, really?
"Is there anything I should bring?" she asked politely. One of the men her father always hung out with once said it was a cardinal sin to show up without a gift. Though, she'd never once received anything herself.
"No. Here's the address." He scribbled on a piece of paper in his notebook, tore it out, and handed it to her. He went back to talking to John before she had a chance to say anything else. It was clear that their conversation had ended, not how she was used to ending conversations, but that was fine.
Elena showed up exactly on time and still managed to arrive before anyone else. James and John handled her awkwardly, like they hadn't invited her to actually talk to, and had just hoped she'd fade into the background somewhere.
It was hard to place the twins. Did they want her there? Were they trying to learn more about her? Had they invited her simply out of pity? It was beginning to seem like the last one.
James stood over the stove in the kitchen, stirring something in a large pot, and John sat on the couch with a drink in one hand and a book in the other. Elena milled about the apartment. It was much, much larger than her dorm room and only a few steps away from campus.
It was filled to the brim with books, and books, and more books. If Elena had the space, she was certain she'd fill it the same way. It gave her a small comfort, being surrounded by books, even in an unfamiliar space with unfamiliar people.
She stood in the hallway off the living room that led to two doors (bedrooms, she assumed) near the back. She had a good view of the front door as she thumbed through an edition of Wuthering Heights.
There was something about Cathy and Heathcliff that would always stick with her. The yearning had drawn them both half-mad. Was that love? If so, Elena wasn't sure she was interested.
Though she could have spent the whole night reading in the hallway, she was eventually called into the kitchen and given a short, solid glass with a large ice cube. James poured amber liquid over the ice and then shooed her away again, only grunting at her "Thanks."
Nearly twenty minutes after Elena arrived, in walked Marcus and Damon. Marcus entered first, holding a few books under his arm, and Damon appeared behind him in the doorway, dwarfing him.
Damon had a bottle of liquor in his hand, which he quickly passed off to John, who he slapped on the back before departing for the kitchen. Elena didn't move from her spot in the hall, with the small copy of Wuthering Heights in her hands.
"I thought I made myself fairly clear, James," Damon's voice was tense and clear, and he was barely making the effort to whisper.
"And I think you're being dramatic. He's fine. Have a drink and leave me alone," James said, and Damon sauntered out of the kitchen with a glass in his hand. He gave Elena a sharp glance, which again caught her dumbfounded. She should have known he would be here. And it was fine, it was all totally fine. It was just a simple competition, that didn't mean he hated her. And she had no reason to hate him, either.
But god, something about him just made Elena want to scream. It burned and boiled and felt akin to rage, but not. Something unfamiliar, a feeling she hadn't experienced before and desperately wanted to be rid of. It was his arrogance, really. The fact that he just knew he was going to win. She simply couldn't let it go on.
"Gilbert, get in here," John called from the living room. "Oh good, you've already found yourself a drink. Glad you've made yourself comfortable."
His tone was not appreciated, but these were strangers. She couldn't nitpick their personalities just yet. Maybe in a few months, but not know when she could be kicked out of the group for breathing too loud.
"We have learned little about you thus far," John said. It seemed that everyone was partaking in the same amber liquor based on the two identical glasses on the coffee table between the two men. While their glasses were nearly empty, hers hadn't been touched. Were they looking? Would they know if she didn't drink it?
"I guess not," Elena said. She took a small sip of her drink, attempting a casualness that she definitely didn't feel. The liquor was warm but it burned going down and she coughed.
John feigned writing something down. "Doesn't drink much," he said as he wrote with his finger on an imaginary notebook in the other hand.
"Wasn't allowed to, back home," she explained. "Father ran a tight ship."
John nodded. Damon continued to look uninterested in her or what she was saying.
"And we know you're a fan of Homer. Honestly, pretty generic answer, but it was good enough for Dr. Bartlow, I guess it's good enough for us."
"I'm not sure if Homer could ever be described as generic. He wrote the great epics, they've got the word "great" right there in the title,"
"She has a point," Marcus said. She'd almost forgotten he was there, he was so quiet. He'd tucked himself into a large leather seat in the corner of the room.
John looked as if he was going to laugh at her, but he managed to stifle it and instead exchanged another look with Damon. If she had known that this was the plan for dinner, she would have stayed home. At least she wouldn't have felt as ridiculed.
"I suppose I haven't read as much Ancient Greek as you, John," she said, giving him a sharp glance. "But we're both in the same class, so that seems like more of a demerit to your intelligence if anything?"
Damon looked away from her, but she could have sworn she saw the start of a smile or even possibly a laugh. Especially because of the way that John immediately glared at Damon. She could definitely read that expression, it said, how dare you laugh at my expense?
Elena pressed her lips together, attempting not to laugh at her own needling.
When dinner was finally ready, Elena's just-emptied glass was filled up again. James walked in a circle around the table, topping off everyone's glasses like he'd done it a million times. They certainly drank a lot, this group.
While they ate the mystery substance that James had cooked, the other three mostly talked amongst themselves. Elena could have inserted herself, probably should have inserted herself. But they seemed so close, and the conversation flowed so smoothly. She couldn't help but feel like her mere presence was an interruption.
Once James cleared dinner, Elena jumped at the chance to escape. James and John cleaned up the kitchen and the dining room, and Damon had disappeared into one of their bedrooms to look for a book they'd borrowed and never returned. Marcus sat on the couch with a book in one hand and an empty glass in the other. She inclined her head in his direction. "Well. I have to get back to my room. Lots of… homework, you know?" She'd already completely turned away from, hand on the doorknob.
"They are nice guys, you know," said Marcus from the couch. He barely lifted his eyes from the book he was reading. It wasn't Greek—maybe Russian? She couldn't translate it.
"Oh. I mean, yeah. I'm sure they are. They've done nothing to give the impression otherwise. Like I said, just have a lot of work to do."
"Right. See you later, Jeremy."
She didn't say anything in response, just slipped out the door and into the hall where she immediately exhaled. Stress melted off her shoulders if only slightly. She'd made it through the night. Only the rest of the year to go. It would be fine, right?