Page 25 of Unlucky in Love
Ryan didn’t blink. “That’s right. Again.”
Taylor shook her head, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Prepared,” he shot back automatically.
Her laugh broke free, soft and infectious. “Fine. If it’ll help you sleep at night, you can come, but you’re ruining any chance I might have of getting swept off my feet and thoroughly kissed by my secret admirer.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
Ryan didn’t say it, but the truth was, he didn’t intend for anyone to sweep Taylor off her feet but him.
Yeah. He wasn’t about to let her go to the library archives without him.
“Fine. Meet me this evening at the library entrance at seven. Don’t be late or I’m going in without you.”
* * *
By the time the sun dipped behind the rooftops, Ryan was already restless again. He met Taylor outside the library,bundled in her jacket, cheeks pink from the cold. She jingled a small key in her gloved hand, eyes glinting with mischief.
“You still have a key?” Ryan asked, incredulous.
Taylor grinned. “Perks of working here during college. Technically, I was supposed to return it when I quit, but they forgot, and I… didn’t remind them.”
Ryan shook his head. “So we’re breaking and entering now.”
“We’re not breaking. We’re entering.” She fit the key into the lock with a satisfying click. “And it’s not a crime if it’s for love.”
Ryan muttered something under his breath but followed her in, his flashlight already in hand. The library was dark, hushed in a way that felt heavier than daytime silence. Their footsteps echoed too loud against the tile as the door clicked shut behind them.
Taylor looked back, her smile still teasing. “You okay? You’re gripping that flashlight like it’s a weapon.”
“It is a weapon,” Ryan said. “If anything jumps out, I’m taking it down.”
Taylor snorted. “Like who? The ghost of Dewey Decimal?”
They made their way down the main aisle, the shelves looming like shadowy guardians. Dust motes drifted in the thin stripes of moonlight cutting through the high windows. Ryan kept scanning the corners, half-expecting to see someone lurking.
When they reached the narrow door to the basement, Taylor pulled the key again and pushed it open. The scent of old paper and damp stone rushed up at them. The staircase creaked beneath their boots as they descended.
Ryan swung the flashlight beam across rows of metal shelving, boxes stacked high, a few old tables with broken legs shoved against the wall. “This is it? This is where forgotten stories go to die?”
Taylor grinned. “Romantic, isn’t it?”
“Creepy,” Ryan corrected. He moved ahead of her automatically, the beam cutting a path. “Stay behind me.”
“Bossy,” she murmured, but she stayed close.
They moved slowly down the rows, Taylor’s fingers trailing the edges of dusty boxes. Ryan tried to keep his breathing even, but the air was heavy with mildew and age. The silence pressed in, broken only by the squeak of a distant pipe.
Then came the noise.
A sharp rustle from the far corner. Ryan froze, flashlight jerking toward the sound. “Did you hear that?”
Taylor stiffened. “Maybe just—”
Another rustle, louder this time. Something clattered to the floor.
Ryan shoved Taylor gently behind him, every muscle taut. “Stay here.”
