Chapter 17
17
ELLIOT
H ave you ever had that feeling of waking up and knowing someone else is in the room with you, but you’re too freaked out to open your eyes and check? That’s me right now.
I’m pretty sure it’s the person who followed me all over campus last night after I left the Hockey House. Like, come on, did they think they could tiptoe through the dead leaves without making a sound?
I really should get up, though. The warm sensation on my face tells me the sun is up. And if the sun’s shining, the librarian working the opening shift will be here soon. And I cannot be found here.
The problem is I don’t want to wake up and confront whoever has invaded my space. Because I know that the second I find out who’s here, there’s no going back to blissful ignorance.
Opening my eyes, I jerk my head up off the book I’d been using as a pillow and wince when my neck cracks from the sudden movement. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes and the cobwebs from my brain.
Scanning my surroundings, I breathe out a sigh of relief when I realize I’m alone. No shadowy figures lurking behind the stacks, no ominous footsteps coming up the stairwell. Just me, the books, and the gentle hum of the lights.
It doesn’t take long for me to gather up my meager belongings. All I have with me is a new backpack—courtesy of Jackson since my last one died—some clothes and a few dog-eared paperbacks. I keep the rest of my stuff in a storage unit off campus. It’s not cheap, but that’s part of the reason why I work as many shifts as my boss will let me.
I make my way down the five flights to the lobby, feeling like a hundred bucks—at least, that’s what I try to tell myself. I’ve become a master at stealth sleeping since I started working here during freshman year.
It’s not like I’ve had much of a choice. When I received the scholarship to attend BSU, I knew I couldn’t afford to live in the dorms. And there was no way in hell I was going to ask my mom for help when we were already struggling to stay afloat. So, I did what any resourceful, broke college student would do—I found a place to crash for free.
The library has been my home away from home, and while it’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, it beats the alternative of sleeping outside on a bench and facing the elements. But it’s not all rainbows and unicorns.
If I’m not working the closing shift, I have to wait for whoever is to leave, then linger around until campus security does one last check. Only after they’re gone can I sneak in and hunker down until morning.
I’m not ashamed of my situation. I’m doing what I have to do to survive. But if anyone finds out, they’ll see me differently. I’ll become the poor kid who can’t afford a place to live. And I don’t want that. I don’t want their pity or their charity.
I also don’t want to get expelled.
So, I keep my mouth shut and my head down. I do my job, go to class, and crash at the library. It’s not a glamorous life, but it’s mine.
A wave of relief crashes over me as I step into the lobby. I made it through another night undetected. I’m about to head out the door when I hear snoring coming from behind the circulation desk.
I freeze. Someone is here.
My eyes flick from the desk to the doors. I have two choices. Escape or find out who’s discovered my secret. It should be a simple decision, but it’s me. Nothing in my life has ever been simple.
Take my skin color, for example. Being Hispanic in a predominantly white suburb wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Kids would make stupid comments about me being adopted as if it were any of their business. I learned early on to brush it off, but it still stung.
And then there’s my sexuality. Coming out as gay was another layer of complication I didn’t need. Add to that my mom’s perpetual lack of wealth. We were never broke, but we’ve always had to scrape by.
Now, every penny I earn goes toward paying my tuition and eating when possible.
I’m used to making difficult choices and dealing with the consequences. That’s why this should be a no-brainer. I should just leave. Whoever’s behind the desk can think whatever they want; it won’t change anything.
But a perverse need to know who would go to the lengths of waiting me out keeps me rooted to the spot. Because, honestly, whoever it is must have some serious dedication—or a weird obsession with me—to stick around this long.
I take a tentative step toward the circulation desk. The snoring grows louder and more pronounced. I peer over the edge of the desk, and my heart stutters at who it is.
Gerard.
I study him while trying to make sense of the sight before me. He’s laid out like a starfish, his long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him and his feet clad in those smiley-face socks. His slides are kicked off to the side as if he couldn’t be bothered to line them up nicely beside the desk.
But it’s his face that I stare at the longest. His mouth hangs open so wide I could fit my fist in it. He’s also drooling.
It’s not fair. No one should look that good while drooling.
Why is he here? I ask myself. A dozen scenarios run through my mind, but none make sense.
My eyes roam over his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful. So unguarded. I’ve only known him for a short while, but I can tell that this is a rare sight. Usually, Gerard is on, performing for the masses. But now? Now, he’s just a guy. Who snores like a foghorn.
“Hey,” I say firmly. But Gerard doesn’t stir. With a huff, I try again, louder. “Dude. Wake up.”
Nothing. He’s out cold.
I consider leaving him a note—something snarky like “Thanks for your concern, but I’ve got this. And by the way, you’re drooling.” and then slipping out the door. But before I can dig a pen out of my backpack, an idea strikes me.
He’s in my territory, and it’s time for me to fight back. So, I kick his foot. Hard.
With a sudden snort, Gerard startles awake and sits up with a jolt. He blinks rapidly, trying to orient himself. When his eyes focus on me, I forget to breathe. “Where’s the fire?”
I cross my arms over my chest and try to look intimidating. “What are you doing here?”
He rubs a hand over his face and inadvertently wipes away the drool. He runs the same hand through his hair as he smacks his lips. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“No shit. But why are you sleeping in the library? Don’t you have a bed in that fancy Hockey House of yours?”
Gerard stands up and plants his hands on his hips. By the set of his eyebrows, I think he’s trying to pull off a stern expression, but it’s more petulant child than anything else. “Why are you sleeping in the library, Elliot? And don’t even think about trying to dodge the question. I want answers. ”
Embarrassment and anger surge through me. How dare he come in here and demand answers from me as if he has any right to know what’s happening in my life?Instead of answering him, I haul ass out of the library and into the unseasonably warm morning. I’m halfway down the steps before the library doors bang open behind me. Gerard catches up to me in no time flat. Damn him and his stupid long legs.
“Elliot, wait.” He reaches for my shoulder, but I jerk away from his touch.
“Leave me alone, Gerard. I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“Oh, yes, you do!” His blue eyes flash with anger, something I’ve never seen before—not even when he’s on the ice. “I caught you squatting in the library. That’s not normal, Elliot. Something’s going on, and I want to know what it is.”
I stop walking and whirl around to face him. “You want to know what’s going on with me? Fine. I’ll tell you. I can’t afford to live in the dorms. I don’t have a house like the rest of you spoiled rich hockey players. I’d rather die than rush a fraternity. So, I sleep in the library. Are you happy now? Is your curiosity satisfied?”
Gerard’s mouth falls open in shock. “Elliot, I…I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, please,” I scoff. “Like you would’ve cared. You’re Gerard Gunnarson. Everything gets handed to you on a silver platter. What would you know about struggling to make ends meet?”
He flinches as if I’ve slapped him. “That’s not fair, Elliot. You don’t know anything about me or my life.”
“And you don’t know anything about mine,” I shoot back, my voice rising with each word. “So, why don’t you do us both a favor and mind your own damn business?”
I walk away from him again, my fists clenched at my sides. His gaze is on my back, but I refuse to turn around. I don’t want to see the pity or the realization that I’m not like him and his hockey bros.
But Gerard, persistent as ever, falls into step beside me. “Elliot, I’m concerned. ”
“Concerned? About what?”
He sighs heavily, and his shoulders slump. “I don’t know. My gut told me to make sure you made it back to the dorms okay. I had no idea you were heading here.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. It’s fine. I’ve been sleeping in the library for the past two years, and no one’s been the wiser. That is until you decided to go all Sherlock Holmes on me.”
Gerard’s forehead creases in deep thought. His mouth moves as he tries to come up with something to say. It’d be cute if I weren’t unbelievably frustrated with him.
“Two years?!” he finally manages to spit out. “You’ve been sleeping in the library for two whole years? How is that even possible?”
“It’s not that hard when you know how to be invisible. And let’s face it, I’m a ghost on this campus.”
The expression on his face is a jumbled mess of emotions. There’s sympathy, which is to be expected. Concern, too. But terror? That’s not what I was expecting.
Gerard takes off running as if the devil himself is chasing him.And while my eyes instinctively follow the rhythmic bounce of his ass as he vanishes into the distance, I find no joy in the view.
Because the simple fact is it’s way too early for my day to be a dumpster fire already.