28. Corey

Today, I beat Fallon to the library.

Punctuality has been drilled into me my entire life, not just from my family but from my years of playing football. Few things piss off or offend a coach more than being late. We’re closer to the dorms on the east end of campus tonight. I’ve never set foot in the Heath library, and gauging by my first impression, I’m betting most of the student body hasn’t.

“Hey,” Fallon says, entering the library as she shifts her bag higher on one shoulder. Her long hair is straight and falls down her back. She looks more nervous today than she did last week. “How are you?”

“Hey.” I extend a large white box to her.

“What’s this?” She glances down as she accepts it.

“An apology for missing another class. I swear, I’ll be there tomorrow. Vic called this morning, and I really needed to talk to him and suss things out.”

She shakes her head. “Corey, you don’t have to apologize.”

I pull in a breath through my nose. “Yeah, I do. For not showing up, for getting drunk and passing out on your couch… All of it.”

“In that case, I should probably apologize to you because my couch is the one Camden provided. If you start getting a rash or something, you’ll probably want to see a doctor.”

I snicker.

Fallon offers a gentle smile. “I’m really sorry to hear about your sister.”

I swallow thickly and nod. “Me, too.”

“If you need time off or whatever, it’s okay. I totally understand. You don’t have to…” she lifts the box, “feel guilty or apologize. Besides, I’ve realized I need media training more than most, so I’ll probably benefit from doing the project alone.”

I shake my head. “Anna wants me to stay and focus on football and school. Unless she gets more bad news, I’ll be here.” Restlessness rolls through me. It’s been a constant since my trip back to Colorado, leaving me to run my hand through my hair again.

“I’m sure it’s hard to be so far away.”

She takes the words right out of my mouth. “All I can think about is the last time and how sick she was.”

Fallon nods, sympathy shining in her blue eyes. “I’m sure it’s impossible not to dwell on that right now. Did you learn anything new from Vic?”

“Anna started chemo today. She’s able to do it at home with pills, which is nothing like last time.” I run a hand over the back of my neck muscles that are too damn tight. “They’re hoping the side effects will be milder. Last time, she was stage three; this time, it’s stage one, and her PET scan showed it hasn’t spread. He said if everything goes according to plan, Anna should be in remission by fall.” My fingers pass over my sore neck again. “I just don’t know how to reconcile my thoughts.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing we have eleven movies to watch for Media Training, then. I can’t promise any of these titles will offer a good distraction, but they’ll definitely eat some of the time,” Fallon says.

“I promise to pull my weight.”

She nods, seeming to understand I need something to grasp and control when it feels as though the world is, once again, slipping through my fingers. “I’ll hold you to it.” She glances at the box. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

She does, flashing a radiant smile that warms an ember in my chest where I’ve felt frozen and numb for days. “If I get cookies every time you skip class, I might start encouraging it.”

“Should we find a place to sit down?”

She closes the box and turns, scanning more of Heath Library. “They certainly don’t put this place in the brochures, do they?”

I chuckle, following her into the dimly lit space, passing rows of outdated stacks. The tiled ceiling has multiple water stains, and the navy carpet is worn and has patches of Duct Tape every few feet.

When Fallon pauses beside a table in front of the librarian’s desk, I tag her hand and direct us to the stairs located to the left of us. Her hand is warm, shockingly familiar, and comforting, as though we’ve walked like this hundreds of times. More.

I’m forced to release my grip as a librarian descends the stairs. She clears her throat and turns beady eyes on me, mouth pursed with disdain. I doubt she has any idea who I am, but considering I helped Nolan turn the main library on campus into a dance hall last December for Hadley, she might.

“We make rounds upstairs every fifteen minutes,” Her voice is a stern warning.

“Every fifteen minutes?” Fallon whispers when the librarian is out of view. “For what?”

I meet her inquiring stare with a grin.

Fallon’s cheeks flush as realization dawns on her that students must use this library as a place to hookup. She looks at the bottom of the stairs as though debating the last few steps but then moves forward.

The upstairs is even more archaic. Tall metal shelves are filled with books I doubt have been read or looked at in years, maybe decades. The lights overhead are even dimmer and release a low buzzing sound.

“This place feels like a prison,” Fallon says quietly. “Who would come here to have sex?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Fallon glances at me. “Here? Seriously. When?”

I chuckle and continue walking, searching for a set of chairs.

“Did you get caught?” she asks.

“I’ve never stepped foot in this place.”

Pride awakens in my chest at the flash of relief in her gaze that she tries to tuck away. “But you’d sleep with someone here under the zappy lights with Dolores Umbridge incarnate making rounds every fifteen minutes?”

I turn to face her, forcing her to stop. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Her gaze shifts between my eyes, looking less certain but more curious by the second, cutting through the curtain of depression that’s surrounded me all damn weekend. For a second, fears of the past fade as I imagine Fallon’s pupils blowing out further and her breaths becoming gasps as they had that night. Without turning my attention away, I imagine her back against the nearest stack, picture how her heart would race as I lowered her pants and stapled my knees to either side of her feet as I kneeled in front of her. I imagine her weaving her fingers in my hair as I finally tasted her like I’d wanted to that night at the beach, and how the scent and taste of her arousal would drown out the musty smell of the library. I’d ensure her moans replaced the suffocating silence as I feasted on her until pleasure and desire built into the same damn brand of need that’s been tied around me for the past several weeks, and she begged me to fill her and ease this damn ache.

“It would certainly make this place a little more tolerable,” I tell her.

Fallon’s cheeks are a soft pink shade that makes me want to ask if she’s imagining the same scene or something else—another fantasy I want to learn every detail of. Before I can ask, she shakes her head and takes the lead, circling the outside of the stacks.

As expected, we’re the only ones here. There isn’t a single chair or table, as though discouraging anyone from staying up here.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else?” She looks defeated, rubbing a hand along her temple. “I was told this was an easy class, but finding the space and time to watch all these movies feels anything but easy.”

“It’s a guaranteed class,” I assure her. “We could submit bullshit and still pass.” I pull a tennis ball from my bag and toss it in the air before catching it.

Her stare pulls my attention to her and the tension around her eyes. “Is that what you’re planning to do?”

I toss the ball to my opposite hand, trying to read her expression. “We’re analyzing movies and answering questions about how they influence the public for a class meant to teach us how to interact with the media. It’s a waste of time.”

“What happened to your case for being a good partner?” Her gaze is sharper than her words, which she tacks a laugh at the end of.

“I didn’t say we have to submit bullshit. I’m just saying we could.”

“This is a required class for me and my first semester here at Camden. If my coaches find out I’m half-assing it, it could impact my place on the team, maybe even my scholarship.”

I shake my head. “It won’t. No one will give a shit what we write, but if you want to make this class a top priority for the next month, consider it done. I told you, I need this fucking distraction. However, if this is our priority, you might consider meeting somewhere more convenient than this hell hole.”

The relief in her gaze is shadowed by doubt. “Where would you want to meet?”

“Your place or mine. I’m willing to entertain alternatives if they make sense, but as you mentioned, our schedules are already packed. The last thing we need is to spend an extra thirty minutes searching for a place to sit down every day.”

“You’re right. And these old buildings without air conditioning will be hotter than hell in a few weeks.” She releases a shallow sigh. “Should we head back to the dorm?”

“Do you want to get something to eat first?”

“I ate. But if you…”

I shake my head. “Do you mind if we head to my place for this first movie? I was out of commission this weekend, and my laundry options are sparse. As it is, I might have to show up to class tomorrow in the buff.”

Her breaths still, and her gaze rakes down the front of me. Regardless of our situation, she can’t deny our mutual attraction.

I already know I’ll be drawing on this memory the next time I try to chase her from my thoughts with my palm.

Only a few people are milling around the lobby when we reach the dorm. We take the stairs to the fourth floor, and I lead her down the hall to my room, where I unlock the door and push it open.

Fallon’s gaze dances over the light russet couches, the wood coffee table stacked with notebooks and whiteboards from Hudson and I working through new play sets this morning, and then to the kitchen table. It’s a slab piece of wood with retro chairs that Mila insisted I needed last fall after learning I didn’t have a dining set.

“Does it look like the rooms downstairs?” I ask.

“My dorm looks so empty and clinical in comparison.” Humor has her eyes a shade lighter as she continues examining my space.

When I remove my shoes, she does too, then crosses to the bookcases that line the far wall. “No wonder you don’t care for libraries. You have your own.” She draws her head back to read the titles along the top shelf, giving me a clear shot of her neck and jaw. The sight sparks memories of that night at the beach that taunt me to step behind her, splay my hands across her body, and trace my lips down to her collarbone.

She turns to look at me as though sensing how quickly my thoughts have again betrayed our deal. “This is quite the eclectic mix.”

I move beside her, accepting the excuse despite my temptation to close the distance between us. The faint scents of her perfume and shampoo have me wanting to bury my face in her. Instead, I square my shoulders and skim over the book spines that range in subjects from history, biographies, art, science, football, and mountain biking. My parents pushed Anna and me academically from a very young age, filling our schedules to give us every plausible advantage. I don’t know if it’s those years or another likeness to my father, but when something interests me, I study it until I understand every fact and nuance about it.

“Have you read them all?”

“They’re mostly here to impress girls when the football angle doesn’t work.”

She rolls her eyes.

I grin before moving into the adjoining kitchen and pulling open the fridge. “Would you like something to drink? I have water, sports drinks…” I push aside a box of leftovers, “some orange juice.”

“Water would be great. Thanks.”

I grab two bottles and carry them to the couch, noting the grin on Fallon’s face before I realize what’s caught her attention.

“Discovering more of my inner nerd?” I use her phrase.

She turns her full smile on me. “You like comic books.”

My collection of comics is vast, taking up an entire section. “And comic strips,” I confirm.

“How many Calvin and Hobbes books do you have?”

“All of them.” In every version.

She glances at me and then back at the shelves. While she inspects the titles, I turn on the TV and grab my phone to peer over the list of movies we’re supposed to watch. “Do you have a preference for where we start?”

Fallon turns and pads toward me. Her bare feet draw my gaze, somehow intimate here in my space, drawing me to recall more memories of that night shared in the hotel. She stops at her bag, lying beside her shoes, and withdraws her laptop.

She sits on one edge of the couch, leaving a cushion between us. “I can’t remember all the questions we’re supposed to answer,” she explains, opening her computer. She toggles through windows that reveal splashes of color.

“Can I see?”

Fallon slowly turns her screen so I can see the image of two illustrated kids in a forest.

“This is incredible.” It looks like something that would be found framed in an art gallery.

She shrugs as she minimizes the window. “I do some graphic design work on the side when my schedule allows.”

“I can’t believe you’re considering changing majors. Fallon, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks, but there are so many variables in this line of work, especially with AI.” She shrugs again. “I need a backup.” She sets the computer next to a whiteboard with the class questions loaded, telling me she’s done discussing the subject without saying a word.

I slide closer to her and shift so she can read my phone screen displaying the list of movie titles. Most are at least twenty years old. I was planning to write the summary of the ones I’ve seen, but the two-hour excuse to be with Fallon that each of them allows has me forgetting that plan.

“Want to just go down the list?” she asks.

The Lord of the Ringsis the first movie listed.

“Have you seen it?” I ask as I find it on one of the many streaming services I have and rarely watch.

“Yeah, but it’s been a long time. Have you?”

This is one of Diego’s favorite series. I’ve watched it with him countless times, but I offer a vague nod and hit play before getting up to turn off the lights with the excuse they create a glare.

I settle close to Fallon but leave enough space for my hand to lie beside hers on the couch. As the narrator introduces the forged rings, Fallon’s fingers capture my attention. My body is painfully aware of hers. She’s so close I can feel the warmth of her skin. I want to run my hand over the inside of her wrist and up to her elbow to see how she reacts. I imagine stroking her bare thigh and tangling my fingers in her hair.

I’m so damn consumed with desire that I miss the initial battle scene.

Fallon shifts forward, reaching for one of the waters.

I miss the next scene, preferring to watch how her mouth curves around the bottle.

When she leans back, the soft scent of her washes over me again, but it’s her arm brushing against mine that steals my focus and sends adrenaline on a chase through my bloodstream.

I curse myself for overthinking the situation and having no fucking clue how to navigate this new middle ground.

I get up twice to grab snacks and a third time to get more water. Fallon barely eats anything, and I wonder if she’s as off-balance as I am.

When the credits roll, Fallon reaches for her laptop, and her breast grazes my biceps in the darkened space.

My blood instantly heats, and my thoughts return to that hideous hotel room, recalling how her breath had caught when I rolled her nipples between my fingertips and how she moaned as I dragged my tongue over the stiff peaks.

My living room feels like a sauna, and my cock is so strained I have to adjust myself. Fallon’s gaze is on my lap when I look at her.

She quickly diverts her gaze and clears her throat before reading the first question aloud. Her voice is thinner than usual. She clears her throat again. As she reads the next question, her voice is back to the melodic perfection I’ve become addicted to.

The questions are divided into three sections: author and audiences, messages and meanings, and representations and reality. It takes us nearly an hour to get through the first portion.

“It’s already past eleven,” she says, glancing at me. “Maybe we finish this tomorrow? What does your day look like? I can be pretty flexible.”

“I can, too. After morning conditioning, we’re installing laminate flooring at Nolan’s. My final class ends at three. Then, I’m leading a practice at five.”

Fallon laughs. “It’s scary that this is our schedule in the off-season.”

“I can move stuff around. Nolan or Grey can lead the afternoon practice if you can meet then.”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s important. I’ll be done with my afternoon practice at six and can meet any time after that. I’ll even bring food if you don’t mind us using your place again.” She glances at the box of opened cookies that went untouched and selects a chocolate chip one.

She slips on her shoes and grabs her bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She’s about to turn for the door when I step in front of her, wrapping her in a loose hug before either of us can overthink the simple gesture. Though I want to pull her against me and feel her pressed against my chest, I keep my touch gentle, polite, hoping she hears the silent question as I wonder if this is okay? Too much? Not enough?

She leans closer fractionally, just enough to make relief bud in my chest.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat.