Chapter Three

"Why are you so down today?" my coworker Jennie asks, peeking at me over the library help desk. Of all the tasks I've done at the library since I got this job when school started, manning the help desk is the most low-maintenance and, thus, the best one. Unfortunately, it's usually covered by Susan, a full-time employee who's worked on campus for over twenty years, or occasionally Jennie, who, as a senior, has pull over most of the other student staff.

Right now I'm at the help desk only because Susan is on her break, and, as my boss, Scott, pointed out, "There won't be much for you to handle here."

Scott is not my biggest fan. Or anyone's fan, really. He's a pinched, perpetually red-faced man who seems to find joy in making our lives miserable, particularly mine. Every tiny mistake I've made since I started, from leaving a book cart in a walkway to forgetting to lock the bathrooms at closing has led to a firm and usually public reprimand from Scott. He loves to make even the most minor infractions into an example.

But he wasn't wrong about the help desk not being busy. With midterms over, the library is a ghost town. Everyone is out celebrating.

I should be celebrating something too, but after trashing my Buckonnect story today, I'm basically a husk of self-loathing and misery. I wish I were the type of person whose failures fuel them to do better, but my flops just take the wind out of my sails. I am a champion moper.

"The asshole I share the grunt desk with stole my story." I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "Of course. I should've emailed someone about it over the weekend, but it doesn't even matter. He had the whole thing ready to print. I heard someone say it barely needed editing."

Jennie makes a sympathetic noise. "I won't pretend to know what a grunt desk is, but I'm sorry—that sounds like it sucks."

I slump farther into my seat. "It does suck. I thought I was about to have my first feature. My first anything in the Torch."

"Well, maybe next time. How'd he steal it from you, anyway?"

I swallow. Okay, so technically he didn't steal it. No one even knew I was working on it. It's not like Three hacked my computer or something.

"It's not important," I say, waving her off. "What's done is done. I also bombed my stats midterm, which is what I should really be worried about."

"Ouch. Yeah, stats is tough. I took that when I was a freshman."

Jennie is in an intense engineering program, so I doubt statistics was as much a challenge for her as it is me.

"Hey, girls," Susan says when she returns. "Thanks for covering the desk, Wyn. Any problems?"

"Nope." I rise from her chair. "This place is deserted."

"Not entirely," Susan says uneasily. "Scott asked me to tell you the porn guy is on the fourth floor again."

I stare at her. "What does Scott want me to do about it?"

Susan gives me a tight smile. I turn a pleading look on Jennie, but she's gone—poof—like a magic trick.

"Why can't Scott go up there?" I complain. "He's a grown man."

Susan holds up her hands. "Sorry. I'm just the messenger."

I sigh, pulling open a few drawers until I find a ruler. Susan watches me with a confused frown, but I don't feel like explaining myself.

In the elevator, I fume. Scott should do this himself, or send one of the other staff, since I've already kicked this guy out once before.

I wonder if this is the library's version of hazing.

The elevator doors slide open on the silent fourth floor. Every table I pass is empty but for the man at the very last one, and I desperately hope the deserted floor doesn't mean he's doing something even worse than just watching porn up here. If I see a penis right now, I might actually quit my job.

The only bright side—if you can call it that—is that the porn perv watches his videos on mute. It's how he keeps getting away with it. If he caused a noise disturbance, Scott might deign to ban him.

"Hey." I don't bother to lower my voice. I smack the ruler on the edge of the table, and the sound echoes. "I've told you before. You can't do this here."

The guy lifts his eyes from his screen. They're glazed as he stares at me.

It is extremely unnerving.

I tap the ruler lightly on his laptop. "Get out. Next time, I'm calling the police for… indecent… stuff."

The man smiles without showing his teeth. He kind of looks like he could play a cannibal killer on TV.

I will myself not to back up a step.

"I'm dead serious," I whisper, putting some bite in my voice. "If I find out you're up here doing this one more time, I'll wallpaper this place with your picture and make sure you never step foot in here again. Get out." I point the ruler at him, then the elevator.

The man shuts his laptop slowly, his gaze locked on mine. I feel a burst of nerves, like I want to run. When he gets up, I keep my eyes on him, turning as he rounds the table and heads for the elevator. I never put my back to him.

As soon as the elevator doors slide shut on him, I sag back against the wall. I don't understand how this keeps happening, or how the library Wi-Fi doesn't have porn blocked. Maybe he has porn saved to his computer, but…

I pull out my phone and open a new window, trying a couple of porn sites I know off the top of my head. Both go through without issue.

I close them out and slide my phone back into my pocket, an idea taking root.

It was surprisingly easy to get Mel on board with my story on public porn viewing. My outline covered all the basics about the campus Wi-Fi's access points, and some horror stories on the subject from larger publications across the country.

It was a lot of ground to cover—the age of the smartphone making porn accessible anywhere; the fear of retaliation or ridicule, particularly among women, when confronting a person watching porn in public; and quotes pulled from a story I found in the Torch's online archive about a student who was interviewed about a guy watching porn in one of her classes. Finished, the story painted a picture of a growing issue with publicly viewed porn on campus. It highlighted the danger it puts people in when the goal of watching porn in public is sometimes to be seen doing it, and what could happen if that were to escalate to something much more… hands-on—and what that would mean for everyone's safety and comfort on campus.

I could feel Mel's enthusiasm as they read over my draft, and when we brought the story to Sabina, she was immediately on board.

It felt like a huge win. When I was a kid, I wanted to be Nancy Drew or Harriet the Spy, uncovering the truth and catching the bad guys. As I got older, I realized that meant being Lucy Morgan, the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for Investigative Reporting, or a member of the Boston Globe's Spotlight team, because nothing holds the bad guys accountable better than public outcry. And now, finally, people would be reading my words in the Torch—my first serious story as a hopeful for the journalism program.

But as it turns out, the "reading it" part of my story is what evades most people. I learn this when the new edition of the Torch goes out, and the headline I submitted—"Banning Public Porn Access: Is It the Key to a Safer Campus?"—goes in with a word missing: "Banning Porn Access: Is It the Key to a Safer Campus?"

We don't realize until it's already been printed in the physical paper and posted on our website. I thought fixing the digital version would take care of it. Most people don't read the physical copy of the Torch anyway.

Then two days later, I get back to my dorm after work and Ellie says, "Why are people texting me asking what my puritan roommate has against porn?" The door has barely shut behind me. She eyes me from her desk, brow furrowing. "I didn't even know you were religious."

"I'm not," I snap.

"Well, people are saying you're trying to get porn banned on campus. It's, like, all anyone's talking about."

My stomach bottoms out. "Please tell me you're joking."

Ellie's eyes widen slightly. "You didn't know?"

"He-eey,"Dara says, poking her head in from the bathroom, her smile almost a grimace. "How's it going?"

"Wyn, I should thank you," Madison says from behind her. "My parents are thrilled I have a suitemate whose morals are aligned with mine."

"My morals are not—I'm not trying to—Wait, your parents?" I set my bag on my desk and drop into my chair, stunned. "What is happening right now? No one even reads the Torch." It's normally painful to admit, but right now I'm numb to everything but pure panic.

"Some frat is, like, protesting," Dara says. "Tau Delt, I think?"

My breathing quickens. "What?"

"They posted an opinion piece on their website about how banning porn on campus is a personal rights infringement."

"And then Two Minute News covered the whole thing," Ellie says, pulling up the video on her phone. She lets the first few seconds play as the person on camera says, rapid-fire, "A freshman reporter at the Torch is proposing a campus porn ban that has at least one fraternity wading into the debate—"

"I'm not trying to ban porn on campus. I'm not even trying to get it banned! All I did was write a piece about how it's dangerous to have porn available on public access points, because it gives people the opportunity to watch in public places and be seen doing it." I look between my roommates, who all stare back blankly. "None of you even read it?"

"Well, okay, I was going to," Dara says quickly.

"I wasn't," says Ellie.

"My parents have restrictions on my internet browsing, so I can't technically," Madison says. "Since it has ‘porn' in the title." She whispers the word "porn," like her parents might be listening even now. "But I told them all about it, and they're really happy."

"You told them all about an article you haven't read?"

Madison flushes. "Well, just what I've heard from other people."

I rub my forehead. "You do realize this is how misinformation spreads, right? I'm not trying to ban porn on campus. Just in public. I'm not even trying—I'm repeating myself. I'm literally talking in circles. Okay. I'm out."

"Hey, Wyn, don't—" Dara's protest is cut off as the door slams shut between us.

The lounge that the dorm rooms circle is full of people, and heads swivel in my direction. I can tell a few of them know who I am, and I'm sure as soon as I turn my back, the whispers will start.

"I'm not trying to get porn banned on campus," I say loudly. "Please read the whole article. God."

I turn and storm into the stairwell, thundering down until I reach the ground floor and burst out into the chilly autumn night. I wander for a while until my feet take me past the gym, where people stream steadily in and out.

Then the door to the aquatic center swings open, and Three strolls out. Like the universe plucked him up and dropped him right here for me and my rage.

He has a gym bag slung over one shoulder and his hair is wet, and he doesn't notice me coming at a velocity last seen in a middle school math textbook.

Not until I move into his path and put us on a collision course.

"Jeez, Evans, come on," he says, catching my shoulders before we can crash into each other and create the next Big Bang, flinging fury into the universe to form a brand-new hellscape.

"It was you, wasn't it?" I advance a step, and he drops his hands and backs up until he hits the ramp railing behind him. "You changed my headline."

I don't miss the way the corners of his mouth twitch, even as his gaze remains serious. "I didn't do anything. Why would I mess with your headline?" His teeth come down on his lower lip, as though he can bite away the smile that's fighting to break free.

"To. Mess. With. Me." I punctuate each word with a poke to his chest.

Three catches my hand. "Okay, you're obviously having a night." He tucks my finger back into my fist. "I didn't mess with your headline, or with you."

But he's too smug for that to be entirely true. He's clearly riding the high of a win right now.

"Let go." I tug my hand out of his.

Three smiles. "You touched first."

"And you moved first." I point at him again but keep a few inches between us. "Remember that. You started it."

His smile widens. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, sure. Okay. Play dumb all you want. You think I'm going to fall for that when your stupid-ass fraternity is the one posting about my article?"

"Ah," he says, as though everything has just dawned on him. "Right. The porn ban thing. You know, I'm only a pledge, so I don't know if they're really my stupid-ass fraternity. But hey, I'm sorry they've got you so rattled."

Rattled. My heart gives a warning leap, like I've walked straight into a trap.

No wonder he seems so pleased right now. I'm giving him exactly what he wants.

I grind my teeth together, struggling to regain my composure. "You know what? I'm done talking to you. I've said what I wanted to say." I turn to walk away.

"And what did you say exactly?"

My tiny bubble of self-control bursts, and I snap over my shoulder, "It's fucking on, Wellborn. That's what I said."

"Wow, okay," he calls after me, laughing. "I'll keep that in mind!"

It's how flippant he sounds that really fires me up. All this time, I've thought I simply needed to prove myself the superior journalist. But it's clear Three's method for winning isn't just about out-reporting me—he's getting in my head and under my skin. And if I don't start playing his game, I may as well forfeit. I'm not about to win the Campus Life spot on the high road.

On the walk back to my dorm, I make a hundred different plans to ruin him, fueled by rage and that stupid, self-satisfied smile of his.

Until I arrive at my building and realize I left my room with nothing—no phone, key card, or even my ID. I stand at the front of the building, tipping my head back with a frustrated groan.

"Uh… you okay?"

My head snaps up. Lincoln has stopped beside me, still leaning in the direction of the door, like he was on his way around me.

"Oh, thank god." I sigh in relief. "I forgot my key card. And my phone. And literally anything else I should have grabbed on my way out."

Lincoln smiles, nodding toward the door. He unlocks it and holds it open for me.

"You're my hero," I say as I step inside. "Seriously, the only good thing to happen to me all day was running into you."

"You know, you don't have to flatter me. I already let you inside." He shoots me a teasing smile as we head for the elevator.

"Well, I nearly maimed you the other day, and now I'm asking you for favors. It's only fair I give you something in return."

Someone knocks on the door behind us, and we both turn. A girl stands on the other side, wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt, hair pulled up in a messy bun. She points at the door and mimes opening it.

Lincoln's smile slips a little as he heads over and pushes it open a crack. "You don't have your key card?" The elevator dings and the doors open, but I wait.

"I'm here to see someone," she says, moving to slip past him. I get a better look at her face this time, and I feel a tug of recognition. I'm pretty sure I've seen her stop by my room for Ellie, though it's hard to keep track of Ellie's long list of visitors.

Lincoln blocks the way. "I can't let you in if you don't live here."

She jerks back with a sneer. "What are you, a cop?"

"I'm an RA."

Her expression goes stony.

"Hey, wait," I say before she can walk off. "I think you're going to my room. Two-oh-two, right?"

The girl looks at me for the first time, and she brightens. "Yeah," she says, shifting to move past Lincoln. "Thanks."

He gives me a questioning look, but I wave her in. "It's cool. I know her."

Lincoln pushes the door wide, letting her pass, but he doesn't look entirely comfortable. I try to give him a reassuring smile, but his attention is on the new girl as we enter the elevator. I wonder if he's angry—if I somehow undermined his authority.

We ride up to the second floor in awkward silence, and then the girl and I exit the elevator together. I give Lincoln a wave goodbye and thank him again, which earns me a small smile in response.

Then the elevator doors slide shut, and the girl says to me, "Hey, aren't you the one trying to get porn banned on campus?"

And I instantly regret letting her into the building at all.