Between the Stacks (Behind the Lens)

Chapter 7

Lyra

The smell of melted cheese, pepperoni and saucy goodness assailed me the minute Professor—Lowe answered the door. The two men standing on the other side, waiting for admittance into the house, knocked me for a loop. Lowe was right, I did know Scott. He sat three rows ahead of me, six seats in. He asked all the right questions and had a resonating voice that sent chills down my spine.

“This is Scott Ellison and Cole Farmer,” Lowe said, introducing them as he stepped aside to let them in.

Cole grinned. Next to Scott he was an equally handsome guy. Okay, no, that was wrong. He was hot. Together they probably melted panties all over campus. Their gazes locked with mine and it was as if time stopped. My ears took on a stuffed cotton quality, like when I had an earache as a child. Lowe stared at me then laughed before growing concerned.

Oh God, was I spacing out?

My heart pounded. The sensation of sucking air from a straw had me pressing my hand to my chest as the noise around us slammed back in. The whistle-wheeze I’d been dealing with off and on all day came roaring back. Damn it! Why now? They literally knocked the breath out of me. I held up my hand. “I’m fine. Just a bit... Out of breath.”

Lowe muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse about the hospital and laying into whoever discharged me. “Do you need your inhaler?”

“No,” I said, hating the roughness of my voice or how small I sounded. “I have a rescue inhaler, but that’s for emergencies only.”

“This is kind of an emergency,” Lowe retorted.

Not really. I could slow my breathing by taking shallow breaths, up to the point where it hurt, then exhale. No, I wouldn’t be inflating my lungs properly, but at that time, I didn’t give a damn. Bad enough I’d embarrassed myself in less than a minute after properly meeting Scott and Cole.

“Whoa,” Scott said, “it’s you. From last night.” He had the quintessential surfer boy aesthetic going for him. Tan skin, middle part under-cut hair that curled slightly with natural sun-kissed light-brown and dark-blond highlights, along with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. What ensnared my attention, however, were his sea glass-colored eyes. An uncanny shade of green with a hint of foam but also an aquatic blue. They held a wealth of mystery and maturity beyond his age.

“What Casanova over here is saying,” Cole said, “is we saw you getting triaged by the ambulance.” Cole nudged his glasses back into place as he dipped his head. His jet-black hair fell into his face, masking his appearance momentarily. Those steely-gray eyes saw everything though, even when he didn’t necessarily look at anyone. He had a natural pout to him and when he grinned, holy shit the way his cheeks hollowed, showing the cut of his jaw, damn, I thought that was FX makeup in the movies. Because no way anyone had such an incredibly sharp bone structure.

I was horribly wrong.

“Uh...” I rubbed my bicep, remembering the feel of the blood pressure cuff on my arm. “Not my finest moment.”

“Inhaling fire smoke is no joke,” Scott said, following Lowe into the kitchen. “It’s like smoking three to eleven cigarettes a day or something. Like, it depends on how long you’re exposed as to the quantity. Either way, it’s not good.”

Putting it that way, “Wow. Talk about chain smoking.” I coughed, hating the seal bark and scratchiness I had going on.

“You’re also the one who went to the hospital for the anaphylaxis due to your smoke inhalation.” Cole glanced over his shoulder as he dropped the pizzas on the butcher block island. “So, with the way your lungs reacted, it might be like smoking a pack of cigarettes. In less than an hour?”

About that . “Good thing I am never smoking.” I walked around the island to help, but the guys had everything out before I made it three steps. Made me wonder just how much time they spent here and if the college knew. Not that I’d rat Lowe out.

“We brought beer,” Scott said, removing the six-pack of beer bottles from a plain brown sack. “But we also knew you probably didn’t want to have a med interaction, so I got you a soda. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not even in the slightest.” I grabbed the twenty-ounce red labeled bottle off the counter along with a paper plate.

“Dig in,” Lowe stated. “Don’t worry about how much you want.”

I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach when I sat on the couch in the television room with Cole, Scott, and Lowe. I’d grabbed four slices knowing full well one slice would hurt my throat to the point nothing would soothe the ache away. Yet the smell was delicious, and my stomach kept rumbling then tensing with pain, because I’d gone too long without a proper meal.

“So, what sports do you like, Lyra?” Scott asked, grabbing the remote before kicking back in the leather recliner only a few feet from where I sat on the couch. I didn’t dare pull the lever on the side. For sure I’d have a full-blown asthma attack the minute I leaned back.

“I like college football,” I said with a shrug, testing my throat and my stomach with the pizza. The first bite went down easy and didn’t cause much pain. I’d take it as a win. “Though, high school is more popular where I’m from. Talk about parents acting like their kids are playing in Super Bowls every year. Competitive too.”

Cole whistled. “A woman after my own heart. Did you go to the games?”

“It was required,” I said. “Band’s kind of mandatory. If you didn’t have a sport, you were either a cheerleader, color guard or band member.”

“Oh yeah?” Scott glanced in my direction. “What did you play?”

“Clarinet,” I answered before swallowing another small bite.

“College football it is then,” Cole said. “Find us a game, Scott.”

He frowned. “It’ll be one from last week.”

Good thing I hadn’t watched a game in a long time, so it didn’t matter when the match was played. I took a sip of my drink and relaxed into the couch, reminding myself to keep elevated so as not to put pressure on my chest.

“So,” Lowe asked while Scott queued up a game, “how many classes do you have this semester?” His stormy gray eyes pinned me in place. Maybe I should pinch myself. The thought struck my brain as I glanced at them. Sure, Lowe was older than Scott and Cole, but he gave off older brother vibes with the familiarity they had. Plus, the intensity in their gazes, almost as if they waited on bated breath to hear what I had to say, unnerved me.

“Five, Monday thru Thursday with Friday as a study day,” I answered. The quicker I got my pre-requisites out of the way, the better off I’d be. “Why?”

“Would you be willing to take on a work study in the library with me?” Lowe lifted the bottle of beer to his lips to take a drink, and I swore I could feel his lips on mine. What the fuck is wrong with me? I think the steroids ate my brain.

“Um...”

“Look at it this way,” he said, still holding his beer, “you’ll have extra money for items you need. You’d have a place to study if you didn’t want to be here all the time, and all the books you could ever want to read at your fingertips.”

Well, when he put it that way. “What’s the pay?” Did that sound greedy? No. Greedy was staying under the roof of a professor who didn’t have to accept a student, eating their food and using their power and water, while the college figured out a permanent solution for all the unhoused students, without contributing to household chores. “Do I have to report the information to financial aid?” I didn’t want to mess up my ability to pay for school, because I felt guilty for sharing private space with a person I didn’t know.

“You’ll report the job to financial aid,” Lowe said, “but considering the circumstances I don’t believe it will go against your grant money. This was a disaster, not you making money for the hell of it or dropping classes.”

A whistle blew in the background as cheers rose in the crowd before the game began. “I’d like that. I should tell you though, my skills with the Dewey Decimal System are abysmal.”

Lowe laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

“Yeah,” Cole said, “at least there’s not a card catalogue for the library.”

I’d seen those a few times at our local small-town library. The behemoth of a multi-drawer unit, I didn’t know what else to call it, sat in the middle of the foyer area of the library and wrapped around the front counter in a curl.

“You three don’t even understand half the cruelty of those drawers,” Lowe muttered. “Let alone training on them and learning how to label books. Nor what it’s like should someone dump them out on the floor for shits and giggles.”

“Whoa,” I murmured, “when did you start?”

“Middle school,” he said.

Scott chuckled. “Nerd.”

Lowe flipped him off. “Numbers have always engaged my brain. It’s why I’m efficient at my job.”

“I feel a bit inadequate here,” I said, not trying to garner any sympathy. But they all knew what they wanted to be once they left college. Scott and Cole had the Fire Academy. Lowe had his books. About the best thing I could do was tend to livestock.

“What did you do back home?” Cole asked, before shoving half a slice of pizza in his mouth.

“Worked on the farm,” I said, not sure I could explain my job. Between band and 4H I really didn’t do much else. “I took care of the barn animals while my dad took care of the fields. Like I told Lowe, my family had very traditional ideas of who I should be. Not who I was.”

“You should be a vet,” Scott said, waggling his finger at me while he grinned. “Bet you’d have the best bedside manner even if your patient was a snake or a mouse.”

I couldn’t say I would take care of a snake, however the mouse? Definitely. Maybe they’d been on to something. Seemed like over the years I’d grown into my iron stomach after all the things I’d had to witness on the farm, including Stan, my dad’s ranch hand, getting his foot stuck in the auger.

Still not sure how that happened.

But it wasn’t pretty.

“I’ll look into it,” I said, mad at myself for grabbing too much food.

“You full?” Scott glanced at my plate.

“You still hungry?” I quirked a brow.

“Well, I wouldn’t say my third leg is hollow, but...”

I chuckled, handing him my last slice before settling back into a semi-comfortable position. “Enjoy.”

I don’t know how long I’d sat there or what time it was when I felt myself being lifted off the couch. The scent of honey mixed with an expensive citrus afternote filled my senses. I wanted to burrow closer to the person so I could transfer the smell to myself. The richness eased the tension raging within me. I didn’t think I’d allowed myself to turn my brain off since the moment I’d been told to get out of the home I’d made in my dorm room due to the fire.

“This is her room,” Lowe whispered as the click of the door opening accompanied his soft, “shit. I forgot she’d been studying earlier.”

“Scott, help Lowe clean off the bed, I’ve got the package,” Cole said. His voice vibrated through me, setting me on fire. I didn’t want any of them realizing I was awake for fear Cole would set me on my feet and walk away without a backward glance.

“Did you notice,” Lowe said, keeping his voice low. “How pale she is.”

“Maybe it was a trick of the light from the ambulance when we first saw her,” Scott said. “She didn’t look that bad. She’d even argued about treatment.”

I had. Stupid to think about now after everything I found out later. Trust me, the next time, if there was one, I’d take the ride in the ambulance without fighting.

“I saw the medicine they gave her. Can’t imagine how she felt knowing she’d always have to carry them with her,” Lowe continued. “Besides her there are only two other students still in the hospital.”

“Too many,” Cole muttered. “I could kick that kid’s ass.”

“Get in line,” Lowe said. “There, now put her down.”

Cole did as Lowe asked and when my back hit the bed at an angle, I gladly drifted back off. But not before I could have sworn Scott said, “So did you ask her if she’d help us yet?” on the way out.

Wonder what that’s about?

The next morning, I woke to the smell of pancakes, bacon, and coffee along with punk music and Lowe’s laughter. Someone was in a good mood. I wondered why. The last two days had been a blur. I knew where I was, obviously, but everything else was like recalling memories through a thick fog on a misty day. Or a still-wet painting caught in the rain where the colors run, obscuring the artwork.

In other words, piss poor conditions.

I shoved out of bed, taking my time so as not to draw attention or cause a coughing fit. Once I was sure I could stand without falling over or losing my breath, I made my way to the bathroom. The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the shared space was the door across from where I stood was opened. I knew I’d closed it while studying the night before. The second thing, two toiletry bags on the counter.

Had the college decided to use all available homes and rooms? I pushed the thought aside and stepped into the closed-in toilet. The space, like downstairs, had photos of college students, vistas from the cliffs behind the school, and a basket of magazines beside the commode. Huh, not just a midwest thing. At least Lowe didn’t decorate with country ducks and geese.

After washing my hands and face, I brushed my teeth, then contemplated a shower. Only to stop mid-thought, remembering I didn’t have any clean clothes to put on. I’d been exhausted and mentally absent, forgetting to call the student store to have a few items from their racks sent over to professor housing. Now, if I wanted something I’d have to go get it. At least I had the presence of mind to order intimates and socks off the local big box shop.

Until those came, I contemplated staying upstairs. But the smells hit me again, and I couldn’t resist the sugary sweetness someone created in the kitchen. Grabbing my phone off the charger, I made my way down to the kitchen and came up short when I spotted Cole and Scott sitting at the breakfast nook, shirtless, slamming pancakes while Lowe sipped his coffee near the sink.

Unlike the guys, he had on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top, exposing the sinewy line of his body. I ate up every inch of him while the others were distracted. It wasn’t fair how good looking he was. Glancing down, I mentally snorted. He had pretty feet to boot. Nothing about him screamed normal. Yet, there wasn’t any other explanation for Lowe.

“There she is,” he murmured. “Feel better?”

I nodded. “Much. Thank you.”

“Good. Go take a seat with the boys. I’ll have your breakfast to you in a moment.”

I glanced from him to the guys then back. “I’m sorry, have I woken up in a twilight zone or something?”

Lowe laughed. “Nope. Now go sit. I know you’re hungry.”

He had a point.

Fine. I’d do as he asked, but afterward, I’d get some answers.