His reaction was fair. Even when I’d been a student, the library hadn’t exactly been known as my hangout.
“Yeah.” I chewed another bite while the story spun itself. “Met with her in a back room last night.”
Ledger laughed, shaking his head. “That’s one way to spend time at the library.”
If only they knew the truth—that she hadn’t wanted me anywhere near her, that getting close enough to touch her was the furthest thing from what had happened.
“She’s definitely a take-charge kind of woman,” I added, and couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at my mouth as I remembered how upset she’d been at me for intruding on her space.
I took another bite of waffle, but the food barely registered. My mind kept drifting back to last night—her sharp tone, the way her eyes had narrowed like she could cut straight through whatever excuse I might throw at her. Most people laughed off my charm—or leaned into it. She’d looked at me like she’d seen every single layer I’d built up and wasn’t impressed by any of them.
It should’ve been irritating.
Instead, it had felt like a challenge.
“Take-charge,” I repeated under my breath, more tomyself than to Ridge and Ledger. That didn’t even begin to cover it. She’d defended her space like it was sacred. And maybe it was. Maybe it was somewhere she could control, a piece of the world she didn’t have to share unless she wanted to. I knew what that felt like.
Ledger was talking about something—splits from yesterday’s time trials—but my attention slid away again. I kept seeing the way she’d folded her arms, holding her ground while I’d sat there dripping sarcasm. The memory put this low hum under my skin, not just from the way she looked—though that was its own kind of distraction—but from the way she carried herself.
Confident. Capable. Unobtainable.
And then there washer.
The otherher.
The one behind the screen name.
ReadToLiv.
Different, but not. Where the library woman had bristled at me,ReadToLivhad seemed to enjoy sparring with me. She’d let me in—not all the way, but enough to make me want more. She was sharp in her own way, but she’d laughed at my comebacks instead of shooting them down.
Two women. Two completely separate pulls.
And I didn’t know which one I was thinking about more.
I speared another piece of waffle, forcing myself back into the noise and movement of breakfast. Ridge and Ledger were still in the middle of their usual back-and-forth about workouts, and I tossed in the occasional “uh-huh” or “sure” when they looked my way. But every time I let my mind wander, it went back toher.
Or maybethem.
Either way, neither one was leaving my head anytime soon.
When we finished our breakfast, Ridge stood and gathered his plate. “We’re hitting the recovery center,” he said. “You coming?”
“Not yet,” I told him. “Gonna hang here for a bit.”
Ledger raised a brow like he knew I was up to something but didn’t call me on it. “Suit yourself.”
The second they were gone, I pulled out my phone and opened BookPad, scanning for a certain username.
There were a handful of new messages but none from her.
Not that I should’ve expected anything else—our conversations had always been a late-night thing—but I caught myself wanting to break our unspoken rule.
I tapped her name, and our thread opened, our exchanges from last night staring up at me. I’d stayed up too late—again—because she’d made it too easy to keep talking. She could be sarcastic, blunt, even a little bossy, and I found every bit of it addictive.
Before I could stop myself, my thumbs were already moving.
TheWriteGuy