Page 30 of Captured Love

Kate gives me a big smile with that announcement. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Once she leaves, I close and lock the dressing room door behind her and take another look at myself in the mirror. I can’t help but smile at myself because, for once, my anxiety has decided to let me just be. And I’m okay with that.

13

SELENE

Abig sigh leaves my lips as I walk into the library to begin my shift. Finally, a moment to breathe, to escape the never-ending whirlwind of my freaking life.

I slide behind the front desk, where a stack of returned books teeters like a miniature city skyline. Of course the staff that was here before me left this mess for me to clean up.

Typical. I grab the nearest book and scan the barcode, watching the computer screen flicker to life. This won’t take me any time to get through, but I can’t say that I’m not annoyed by it.

Still, the mundane task is almost a comfort. I need something brainless right now, something that doesn't require me to think too hard. Because when I think, I remember. And when I remember, it hurts.

Because all I can think about is the apology from Knox that is currently in my bag. It’s been a couple of days, and I haven’t bothered responding to it or his text. I’m not sure what to say, if I’m being honest, and while I enjoyed the conversations we’ve had, I’m still rerunning how he treated me after we had sex in my head. It’s something I’m not sure I’ll ever move past.

I finish scanning the last book and set it on a cart with more force than necessary. The apology letter weighs on me like an anchor, pulling my thoughts and me down constantly. Why does he even think an apology can fix things? Why do I care so much if it does?

I swear nothing matters in this chaotic, messed up world.

With another sigh, I sit down at the front desk. I dig into my bag to grab my laptop, figuring that I can find something to do that will burn time. Doing homework would be wise, but I can’t even begin to get my brain in the frame of mind where anything I’m reading will make any sense, let alone be absorbed.

So streaming a couple of episodes of a sitcom it is. I put one earbud in my ear, giving me the ability to still pay attention to my surroundings in case I need to help anyone, but other than that, I’m ready to zone out.

Just as I'm about to click play, I catch sight of something that makes me stop all movement. In the far corner of the library, almost hidden behind a tall shelf of encyclopedias, sits Blaise Dalton with a pair of glasses resting on his face.

I shift myself so I can get a better look at him, and I notice all of the books spread out before him. He's hunched over, scribbling furiously onto a piece of looseleaf in his binder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him here before, so this is interesting.

I take out my earbud and set it down gently, watching him for a few more seconds. Everything is warning me to leave him alone, but for some reason, I’m fascinated that he’s here tonight.

A dedicated student? Who would have thought? That’s rude of me to say, but what else is new?

A part of me wants to walk over and say hi, maybe tease him about being such a studious nerd. Another part of me just wants to sit back and observe, which might quickly get awkward if he finds me staring at him.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm already up and walking toward him. Is this the wrong move? Probably, but I seem to keep making them, so why stop now?

“Hey, Blaise,” I say, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb anyone else. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

Blaise looks up, his blue eyes magnified comically large behind his glasses. For a split second, he looks like a startled owl. Then he smiles, and it's warm enough to melt the permafrost around my mood.

His eyes widen when they land on me. They dart to the front door before they return to me. “Selene, hey,” he says, taking off the glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, I usually do this stuff at home, but I wanted to get out of the house, so here I am.”

“Nice glasses,” I say, leaning against the bookshelf. “I didn't know you had bad eyesight.”

He chuckles, a soft, easy sound. “They're just reading glasses. I'm getting old, you know.”

“Right. Ancient at, what, twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two next month, thank you very much,” he says as he gives me a little bow while sitting down. “Time flies when you're about to have a quarter-life crisis.”

That makes me laugh. Blaise and I have chatted before when I’ve seen him at a couple of hockey parties, but never anything really in depth. That’s probably because I was too wrapped up in Knox. Still, I always thought he was nice. Maybe even the nicest out of all of the hockey guys.

“So what class has you in a bind?” I nod toward the pile of books, which look like a mix of history and political science texts.

“It's for my poli-sci capstone,” he says, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I'm trying to tie everything together, but it's like herding cats.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A poli-sci major? I would have pegged you for something more... athletic.”

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