Page 16 of Love and the Library

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Shorty. When I saymovie, I mean, movie. It’s still early.”

She glances at the time on her phone and then gives a halfhearted shrug that sends a spark of excitement through me.

“Okay. But if you pick a crappy movie, I maintain the right to walk out.”

“Deal.”

As we leave the shop, she steps away from my hold. No problem. I just slide my hand into hers, lacing our fingers together.

“You’re a very touchy person, aren’t you, Lucifer?” She holds up our clasped palms but makes no move to detach herself from me.

Not so much with other people, but with Hannah, I can’t seem to stop myself. Everything about her acts as a siren’s song, luring me in, tempting me to touch and caress. She’d probably shove me away if she knew how often I imagined sliding my hands past the waistband of her jaunty shorts and cupping the bare skin of her generous ass.

For now, I’ll keep my cravings to myself.

“Nah, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t sprint away from me. I’ve seen how fast you can run.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know I had that kind of speed in me. You saw me ninja leap over the bench, right?” She beams up at me.

We spend the rest of the walk going back and forth about our mad dash to The Spot, and by the time I unlock my front door, we’re both having trouble getting words out around our laughter.

“I just”—giggle—“jumped! Can’t believe”—snort—“it either!”

“You almost strangled me!” I toss my keys on the counter.

Her hand gives mine a squeeze before sliding away. The loss takes some of my laughter with it.

“Well, now, you know. Don’t mess with Shorty,” she murmurs with a smile while wandering around the main room of my apartment.

The suite is in one of the older buildings on campus, which people might think makes it appear quaint because it’s historical. I’d like those people to try living in the place during the last few weeks of summer and see how they enjoy not having any AC. Still, despite the drafty windows and low ceiling, these suites are pretty coveted because they each have two single bedrooms, and they’re some of the few places on campus that aren’t dry.

As in, if you’re twenty-one, feel free to stock up on alcohol.

Speaking of which …

“You want something to drink? I’ve got beer.”

In the past, when I brought a girl over and said the same line, the response was always excitement. Everyone is eager for a drink.

Should’ve known Shorty wouldn’t fit in with the mold.

“I’m twenty.” She lets her bag drop onto the scarred hardwood floor and examines one of my roommate’s concert posters he’s tacked up on the wall.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Hannah shifts her stare over to me, eyes wide and blinking. “Is … is this what it feels like?”

My brain stutters over her reaction. She looks so lost.

“Whatwhatfeels like?”

Just as quickly as the innocence appeared, it’s gone, and her face falls into mock disappointment. “Peer pressure, of course. My parents warned me about people like you. Out to corrupt the innocent.”

Back on firm ground with our joking, I affect a frat-guy tone. “Come on, Shorty. All the cool kids are doing it.”

“Just what I expected, Lucifer.” Her eyes smile as she sucks on her bottom lip. The sight is so distracting that I almost miss her next words. “You’re gonna have one, right? I’ll try some of yours.”

“What is it with you tonight? Eating my pie. Drinking my beer. Soon, you’re going to demand fifty percent of my assets,” I call out to her while pulling a bottle from the fridge. When I pop off the cap, a light mist drifts out of the cold glass neck.

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