Page 168 of The Prince of Broken Crowns

“You’re thinking about running, aren’t you?” River notes the direction of my gaze.

His hands are resting on the wheel, and he keeps tapping his finger with the ring on it, his body buzzing with restless energy.

“Yeah … I can’t wait to get out there.” I sigh longingly. “It keeps me centered, you know.”

“I do.” He moves his hand to the shifter.

I twist in the seat to face him. “How is your injury doing?”

“Fine.” He shifts gears then uses that hand to lightly touch his side. “My skin’s a bit tight, but other than that, it’s okay. I think I’ll be able to run slowly in a couple of days.” His gaze slides to me. “Then we can start training you again. Tryouts are soon.”

“I know.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m so nervous. It’s weird ’cause I haven’t been before, but there’s just so many good runners. And now I’m not even training right now.”

“You’ll be fine; trust me. People have to take time off for injuries all the time. Isla had to take off like two weeks during our junior year because she messed up her ankle.”

It’s odd hearing him talk about her so casually.

“I saw her times online. She’s fast.”

“She trains. But she also has the best trainers. You’ve barely had any training up until this point. My bet is you’re going to PR the hell out of tryouts.”

A smile pulls at my lips. “Way to stroke my ego, and yours.”

He chuckles. “I kind of did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s cool. I like being told I’m amazing.” I wink at him, and he laughs.

It’s crazily amazing how easy it is to be around him sometimes.

A few minutes later, we’re pulling into the parking lot behind the library, a daunting building to behold; stories high with castle-like towers and a gothic ambiance. The stained-glass windows alone are pieces of artwork, along with the tiled walkway that leads up the double door entrance.

“Wow,” I say to River as we approach the building, unable to remove my eyes from it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He laces our fingers together. “It’s the oldest building in the city.”

“It’s amazing.” I inch closer to him as a man walks out through the doors.

River takes the opportunity of my nearness to release my hand and slip his arm around my back. We’re so close as we enter the library that I can feel his body heat engulfing me. It’s noticeable, too, since when we pass by the front desk, the fifty-something-year-old woman sitting behind it glances up at us with a frown. Her lips part to say who knows what, but when she notes River, she stops the words from leaving her mouth.

River walks forward without noticing, steering me through the highest arched doorway I’ve ever seen. On the other side is the motherload of all libraries. The ceiling stretches up three stories and peaks at the top, and the walls are lined with towering bookshelves. Shorter bookshelves line the room’s main area, along with tables, chairs, sofas, and it even has a small coffee shop in the back.

The place is pretty empty, probably since it’s so early.

“They serve breakfast here,” River explains as we make our way past a section of sofas, heading toward the coffee shop. “I figure we can get something to eat before we start looking for books on info for, well, you know.”

I’d forgotten about breakfast until he brought it up. But it’s problematic. On the one hand, I know I need to eat. On the other hand, the prices listed on the menu are astronomically high. River will offer to pay—that’s a given fact—and I keep allowing him to do it, which is starting to become a real problem.

“What looks good?” he asks as we arrive at the counter.

Behind it is a girl a few years older than us. She has short black hair and is wearing an apron. She has a frown on her face as she steps up to the register, as if she hates her job.

“What can I get you?” she asks in a bored tone.

River flicks a glance at me.

I’m restless and twitchy, scratching my wrist as I deliberate what to do. If I want to get on the cross-country team, I have to nourish my body. Usually, the cafeteria is my way of doing this, but that’s not an option for now. Starving isn’t, either.

“I’ll have the egg and sausage sandwich and a small coffee,” I tell the barista then tell River, “I’m paying you back. I don’t know when, but I will.”

---