Captured Love (The Crestwood University #3)

13. Selene

13

SELENE

A big sigh leaves my lips as I walk into the library to begin my shift. Finally, a moment to breathe, to escape the never-ending whirlwind of my freaking life.

I slide behind the front desk, where a stack of returned books teeters like a miniature city skyline. Of course the staff that was here before me left this mess for me to clean up.

Typical. I grab the nearest book and scan the barcode, watching the computer screen flicker to life. This won’t take me any time to get through, but I can’t say that I’m not annoyed by it.

Still, the mundane task is almost a comfort. I need something brainless right now, something that doesn't require me to think too hard. Because when I think, I remember. And when I remember, it hurts.

Because all I can think about is the apology from Knox that is currently in my bag. It’s been a couple of days, and I haven’t bothered responding to it or his text. I’m not sure what to say, if I’m being honest, and while I enjoyed the conversations we’ve had, I’m still rerunning how he treated me after we had sex in my head. It’s something I’m not sure I’ll ever move past.

I finish scanning the last book and set it on a cart with more force than necessary. The apology letter weighs on me like an anchor, pulling my thoughts and me down constantly. Why does he even think an apology can fix things? Why do I care so much if it does?

I swear nothing matters in this chaotic, messed up world.

With another sigh, I sit down at the front desk. I dig into my bag to grab my laptop, figuring that I can find something to do that will burn time. Doing homework would be wise, but I can’t even begin to get my brain in the frame of mind where anything I’m reading will make any sense, let alone be absorbed.

So streaming a couple of episodes of a sitcom it is. I put one earbud in my ear, giving me the ability to still pay attention to my surroundings in case I need to help anyone, but other than that, I’m ready to zone out.

Just as I'm about to click play, I catch sight of something that makes me stop all movement. In the far corner of the library, almost hidden behind a tall shelf of encyclopedias, sits Blaise Dalton with a pair of glasses resting on his face.

I shift myself so I can get a better look at him, and I notice all of the books spread out before him. He's hunched over, scribbling furiously onto a piece of looseleaf in his binder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him here before, so this is interesting.

I take out my earbud and set it down gently, watching him for a few more seconds. Everything is warning me to leave him alone, but for some reason, I’m fascinated that he’s here tonight.

A dedicated student? Who would have thought? That’s rude of me to say, but what else is new?

A part of me wants to walk over and say hi, maybe tease him about being such a studious nerd. Another part of me just wants to sit back and observe, which might quickly get awkward if he finds me staring at him.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm already up and walking toward him. Is this the wrong move? Probably, but I seem to keep making them, so why stop now?

“Hey, Blaise,” I say, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb anyone else. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

Blaise looks up, his blue eyes magnified comically large behind his glasses. For a split second, he looks like a startled owl. Then he smiles, and it's warm enough to melt the permafrost around my mood.

His eyes widen when they land on me. They dart to the front door before they return to me. “Selene, hey,” he says, taking off the glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, I usually do this stuff at home, but I wanted to get out of the house, so here I am.”

“Nice glasses,” I say, leaning against the bookshelf. “I didn't know you had bad eyesight.”

He chuckles, a soft, easy sound. “They're just reading glasses. I'm getting old, you know.”

“Right. Ancient at, what, twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two next month, thank you very much,” he says as he gives me a little bow while sitting down. “Time flies when you're about to have a quarter-life crisis.”

That makes me laugh. Blaise and I have chatted before when I’ve seen him at a couple of hockey parties, but never anything really in depth. That’s probably because I was too wrapped up in Knox. Still, I always thought he was nice. Maybe even the nicest out of all of the hockey guys.

“So what class has you in a bind?” I nod toward the pile of books, which look like a mix of history and political science texts.

“It's for my poli-sci capstone,” he says, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I'm trying to tie everything together, but it's like herding cats.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A poli-sci major? I would have pegged you for something more... athletic.”

He smirks. “Because I'm a dumb jock, right?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to,” he says, but there's no edge to his voice. If anything, he sounds amused. “We can have brains and brawn, you know. It's allowed.”

“Touché,” I say, crossing my arms. “So what's the topic?”

He hesitates for a moment, as if he's not sure whether to dive into it. As he’s about to open his mouth, another voice comes out.

“There you are, man.”

I turn to see Knox standing a few feet away. The sight of him sends a jolt through me—part excitement, part dread. I’m convinced everyone in the room is holding their breath.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Knox's eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I forget where I am. Then I remember Blaise, who is now looking between Knox and me with an expression I can't quite read.

“So much for a quiet night,” Blaise mutters under his breath, but loud enough that I can hear. He folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair as if he’s about to watch a show.

“Selene,” Knox says, taking a few steps closer. “Can we talk?”

Every fiber of my being is torn in different directions. Part of me wants to hear him out, to see if he can say something that will make it all better. Another part of me wants to tell him to get lost, that I'm done with his rollercoaster. And then there's the part of me that's just plain scared—scared of what he'll say, scared of what I'll feel, scared of making yet another wrong move.

“Maybe later,” I say to Knox, though I'm not sure I mean it. “I'm working right now.”

Knox looks around the nearly empty library and then back at me. “It doesn't seem too busy.”

“Still,” I say, standing a little straighter. “I need to be available.”

Knox's jaw tightens, and I can see that he wants to call me out on my obvious lie. “Fine,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “I'll wait.”

He walks around me to grab a seat at the table Blaise is sitting at. When I turn back to Blaise, he's already put his glasses back on and is flipping through a book, though it's clear he's not reading.

“I’m going to go, but…if you need anything I’ll be at the circulation desk.”

I turn on my heel and walk away quickly before either of them can say another word. My mind is racing as I make my way back to where I’m supposed to be. Why is Knox here? What does he think he's going to accomplish by ambushing me like this? Heck, was all of this just by chance? And why do I still care?

I sit down and put my head in my hands, trying to block out the swirl of thoughts and emotions. I need to get myself together and fast.

I glance over at Blaise and Knox. Blaise is pretending to work, but it's obvious he's just waiting for something to happen. Knox is staring at me, his hands clasped in front of him as if he’s doing the same.

I force myself to look away and take a deep breath. All I have to do is put my headphones back in my ears and ignore them both. Great idea.

I set up the episode I was preparing to watch again and put my earbud in. After taking a second to close my eyes and refocus my energy, I press play. If this doesn’t take my mind off Knox, nothing will.

The show bursts to life on my screen, and for a moment, it is a welcome distraction. I zero in on the storyline, the characters, the setting, because anything is better than focusing on the mess my life currently is.

Five minutes in, I'm almost relaxed. Almost.

I sense someone come up to the desk and I look up to see Knox standing there. “What?” I say, probably louder than I need to, but that’s what I get for having one earbud in.

“I just want to talk,” he says, his voice softer than I expect. “Please.”

I glance over at Blaise, who is still at his table, now tapping a pen against his book in a rhythm that's almost musical. He catches my eye and gives a small shrug.

I turn back to Knox. His face is pleading, but there's also that stubborn set to his jaw that I've come to know so well. He won't leave until he gets what he wants.

“Fine,” I say, not making any effort to come closer to him. “But keep your voice low because this is still a library.”

For a moment, neither of us says anything. I cross my arms, more out of self-defense than defiance. Knox stuffs his hands in his pockets and winces. His hand comes up and reaches for his left shoulder as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Is he nervous? Never would I have thought to see the bad boy hockey player apologizing and nervous, let alone in the same week.

“Are you hurt?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Hockey injury. I’m fine. But Selene,” he begins, and I brace myself. “I'm really sorry about everything. About how I handled things after... you know. I shouldn’t have been a dick.”

“I know,” I say finally. “You already apologized.”

“Yeah in the letter,” he says, leaning in just a bit. “I guess that means you read it?”

I stay quiet for a bit, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Knox uncomfortable. “Yes, I read it.” I uncross my arms and lean on the desk, closer to him. “It was very... heartfelt.”

Knox's eyes search mine, looking for something—maybe forgiveness, maybe understanding. “I meant every word.”

“I know you did,” I say. “But words are easy, Knox. Actions are harder. And what you did hurt. I knew the score. You told me you weren’t interested in anything more than a casual hookup and you still treated me like shit.”

Knox looks down, and for a moment, I think he might actually walk away. Part of me hopes he does, because this is hard—harder than I thought it would be. But then he looks up, and there's a determination in his eyes that makes my heart do that stupid flutter thing it's been doing since the first time we met.

“You're right,” he says. “I was wrong and I’m sorry. I’m not going to lie; I got a little scared.”

That admission takes me by surprise. Knox Sanchez scared? Of what?

“Scared?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I'm not good at this stuff. At feelings. At... relationships.”

“We weren't in a relationship,” I say, though hearing him even imply it sends a confusing rush through me.

“I know,” he says, quickly. “That's what I'm trying to say. We weren't in a relationship, but it started to feel like something more. Between the text messages we were sending and then the fun we had…that freaked me out. So I pushed you away because it was easier than dealing with... whatever this is.”

I process his words slowly. He's opening up in a way that I never expected him to, and it's throwing me off balance.

“So you pushed me away to protect yourself?” I ask. “That makes it all better then.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It doesn't make it better. I'm just trying to explain why I acted the way I did. It doesn’t excuse it, but that’s what happened.”

I study his face, trying to figure out if he is being sincere or feeding me a line. This is the most honest I've ever seen him, and it's weird in a way. I want to believe him.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “You’ve explained. Now what?”

Knox shifts again, and I can see he's weighing his next words carefully. “Now... now I want to make it right. To make amends.”

“Make amends?” I almost laugh, but there's no humor in it. “How do you plan to do that?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, I think he might actually be at a loss. Then he takes a deep breath and says, “Let’s hang out. Like go grab lunch or something.”

Wait, what? My mind reels. This is not what I expected him to say. Is this his way of making amends, or is it something more? Is he just trying to get over his guilt, or does he actually...

I don't let myself finish that thought. It's too dangerous.

“And if I say no?” I ask, testing him.

“Then I'll respect that,” he says without missing a beat. “But I'll still hope you'll say yes.”

I look over at Blaise again. He's abandoned his book entirely and is now just watching us openly. When he sees me looking, he doesn't even try to hide his curiosity.

“I'll think about it,” I say, turning back to Knox.

A flicker of relief crosses his face, but he quickly masks it with a nod. “That's all I can ask. And now I’ll let you get back to work.”

He starts to turn away, but I stop him with a soft, “Knox.”

He turns back around with an eyebrow raised.

“Thank you,” I say. “For explaining. It does help.”

He gives me a small, almost tentative smile. “I'm glad. See you around, Selene.”

As he walks back to where Blaise is, I sink back into my chair, exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster of the last ten minutes. My mind is a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts and feelings. I look at my laptop and I’m convinced my life would make an excellent storyline on the show that is still playing on the screen. With a sigh, I close the lid and take out my earbud. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on anything now.

The rest of my shift drags on because I’m hyperaware of Knox. With seven minutes left in my shift, I start to pack up my things. The library is almost completely empty now. and I start the lockup procedures. I take one last look at Knox's table. Blaise is gone, but Knox remains, flipping through a textbook with the kind of disinterest you'd expect from someone sentenced to read.

I walk over to the loudspeaker to announce, “Last call for anyone who wants to check out books. The library will be closing in five minutes.” The intercom crackles as I set it back in its cradle. Knox doesn’t even flinch, just continues to turn pages like he’s killing time.

Strange.

I head back to the front desk and make sure everything is exactly where I left it. Then I double check that the back room is locked up tight, and once that is confirmed, I walk back to where my things are, surprised to see Knox standing there for the second time tonight.

“You’re closing up alone?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say cautiously. “Why?”

“It's late,” he says, and I can see him trying to play it cool. “Just thought maybe you’d want someone to walk you to your car.”

“I can take care of myself,” I say, though the offer is tempting. The campus isn't exactly dangerous, but walking alone at night never feels entirely safe.

“I know you can,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But still.”

I take a moment to study him. This whole evening has been one surprise after another, and I'm not sure how many more I can handle. “Okay,” I say finally. “If you're going that way anyway.”

He nods, and I gather my things and throw on my coat. Once I’m bundled up tight, we walk to the library’s entrance. I double check that the doors are locked before we leave the building.

As we are walking across the street to the parking lot, Knox walks beside me. He’s not too close but not distant either. I appreciate that he's not trying to force a conversation on me because at this point, I’m all talked out.

When we reach the parking lot, I fish my keys out of my bag and let them dangle from my finger. “This is me,” I say, pointing to my silver sedan. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“Anytime,” he says, stopping a few steps away. There's an awkward silence where it feels like he wants to say something more, but he's holding back.

I unlock my car and open the door, setting my bag on the passenger seat. The cold air bites at my cheeks, and I pull my scarf tighter around my neck. I turn back to him, expecting him to have already started walking away, but he's still there, watching me.

“Get home safe, Selene,” he says finally.

“I will,” I reply, not sure what else to say. “You too.”

Knox gives me a small wave, but stays until I get into my car and lock the doors behind me. He starts to walk away as I pull out of the parking lot, and I notice he’s walking to the only vehicle left in the lot. And on my drive back to my dorm room, I’m left wondering what are the chances that this evening was truly a coincidence or perfectly planned out by the man I can’t get out of my head.