Page 127 of The Black Table
And I do.
THIRTY-FOUR
KINGSTON
By Saturday nightat 7 p.m., I’ve already been awake for 14 hours.
I couldn’t sleep after the match. I could barely get myself to calm down, to lie down, to get the rest my body so desperately needed. And when I woke up before the sunrise, I couldn’t go back to sleep.
It feels incredible, all of it. Reminded me of everything I love about the sport: Precision. Restraint. Grace. Joy. Like a dance, an art form?—
—and one where I completely pulverized my opponent.
And ordinarily, that feeling would be enough for me to bask in all day.
But not today.
All day, from before sunrise until now, I’ve been acutely aware that she’s around somewhere. Footsteps on the stairs, a glimpse of her coat as she leaves to get coffee with Morgan. The soft click of her door.
Meanwhile, I pace the floors of Camlann House like a caged tiger, wondering if I should speak to her, whether there’s anything to say, or if I should just keep my distance.
I don’t need to bother her.
She has other things to think about, to deal with. And so do I, for that matter—schoolwork, cool-downs, active rest.
My mind should be anywhere but on her.
And it is.
I force it to be.
Until 7 p.m.
When I run a comb through my hair, pull on a sweater and a long coat—it’s gently snowing outside—and I almost run across campus, Emrys’s papers tucked into my bag, to the library.
Except I don’t even make it inside the building.
“It’s locked,” Gwenna says, nearly scaring me out of my skin at the entrance to the building as she slips out of the shadow of a lamp post.
“Locked?” I repeat. There’s a frown between her eyes and a set to her jaw.
“The B2 level,” she says. “Our usual…where we’ve been working.” She nods at the broad wooden doors. “I went in there just now and couldn’t get in from the stairwell.” She glances back again, slower this time. “We could work in the main reading room, but…” She trails off, and I know exactly why. It’d be all eyes on us—on me, if I’m being honest. And especially after last night. Not conducive to focus. Not what I want.
“We could go back to Camlann House,” Gwenna suggests, but her tone of voice matches my thoughts.
“No,” I say, “too chaotic.”
It’s not precisely the truth, but the presence of the others won’t be suited to studying. There’s no good private place to do it, either. The living or dining rooms are right on the first floor, and a bedroom, well…
My heartbeat spikes.
That’s not an option.
I hear a faint clicking sound, and I look at Gwenna. Her teeth.
“You’re cold,” I say. “You should get inside.”
“I know that,” she says, “but where? The dining hall is closed.”
