Chapter 2 #2
We head to the back. Ivan keeps glancing at the shelves like he’s afraid he’s doing it wrong. Jax leans against the cart, barely looking at the books, flipping one open like he’s simply killing time.
All that effort to keep my distance, completely wasted. Ten minutes trapped in here with him and I’m already forgetting every reason I had to stay away.
I reach for a book at the same time Jax does, and our hands almost touch. I pull mine back, but his fingers brush mine anyway as he takes the book, slower than necessary, his eyes lingering on me a second too long.
I take the next book instead, focusing hard on the titles in front of me.
Jax says something to Ivan, but I barely hear it. My attention drifts back to his voice, low and careless, close enough that I have to read the author’s name three times before I actually process it.
It’s infuriating how my heartbeat speeds up.
I force myself to focus on the shelf, on the books, on anything that isn’t him—but I’m still painfully aware of exactly where his hands are.
Too close. I mentally curse myself for reacting like some pathetic girl with a crush.
I need to shut this down. This is exactly why I’ve spent three years avoiding him.
I reach past him for a book and catch the smell of his shampoo. Great. Of course he smells good. Because why wouldn’t he? Perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect scent. It’s like he was designed in a lab to make my life difficult.
I look away. I need to get it together. I already know exactly what he is—and I’m not allowing myself to feel anything but disdain for him and his family. Disdain. That’s it.
“So,” Jax says, sliding a book into place. “What’s your crime?”
Ivan stiffens. “Crime?”
“Yeah. What’d you do to end up here with the two coolest people in school?” He nods at himself, then at me.
I roll my eyes hard.
Ivan nearly drops a book.
“Why are you in detention?” Jax presses.
Ivan goes rigid beside me.
Great. Apparently, I'm carrying this conversation.
I exhale. “Fine. I… shoved someone.”
Ivan blinks. “Someone?”
“A girl.”
Jax’s eyebrows shoot up. “Damn. Why?”
Not gonna say I was pissed she got the part I’ve been bleeding for. “She kept saying ballerinas aren’t athletes,” I say, sliding a book into place. “So I proved her wrong.”
Jax lets out a low whistle.
Ivan looks alarmed and impressed at the same time.
“Okay, ballerina with rage issues,” Jax says. “Respect.”
“My turn?” Ivan asks, a little too eager.
“Obviously,” Jax says, leaning against the cart like he’s settling in for a good story.
Ivan clears his throat. “I… broke into the science lab.”
Jax perks up. “Nice. Why? Explosions? Secret formula? Mutant frogs?”
“No!” Ivan sputters. “I needed a chemical.”
“A chemical,” I repeat, already losing interest.
He pushes his glasses up. “Silver nitrate.”
We both stare at him.
“It reacts to light,” Ivan rushes on. “Leaves black marks if you’re careless. It’s used in photography and chemical pattern detection.”
“So… dangerous stuff?” Jax says, actually interested now.
“It’s science.”
“And why did you need it?” I ask, not really caring but feeling like I should contribute.
Ivan hesitates, then mumbles, “I’m testing a hypothesis. Silver nitrate shows what isn’t normally visible.”
He lifts his hand and I see that his fingertips are faintly stained black.
“It wasn’t supposed to get on my skin,” he confesses. “Mrs. Hagen said I wasn’t allowed to use it unsupervised, and she locked it up. So I, um… may have let myself in after hours.”
“You broke in because you couldn’t wait till morning for a school project?” Jax asks, like this is the best thing he’s heard all day.
“The reaction window was optimal,” Ivan retorts.
Jax bursts out laughing. “Nerd crime.”
Ivan glares. “It’s not a crime. It’s time-sensitive chemistry.”
Jax snorts. “Your fingers are literally black. That’s villain origin story stuff.”
“It fades,” Ivan mutters, though he doesn’t sound convinced.
I stare at his fingertips.
“And you?” I ask Jax. “Fighting?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Technically, but it wasn’t my fault.”
“It never is,” I say.
“That guy threw the first punch,” Jax says. “I just threw the last three.”
“Three?” Ivan asks, swallowing hard.
Jax glances at me, then back at the shelf. “He said something he shouldn’t have.”
“QUIET!” Ms. Rowan shrieks from the desk. “This is a library!”
Jax winks at us. “See? Unfairly targeted. Model citizen, right here.”
As he bends to pick up a book, the stolen tape that is tucked into the back of his waistband beneath his shirt shifts.
“What are you planning to do with that?” I ask.
“With what?”
“The tape you stole.”
“I’m borrowing it.”
“That’s still stealing,” Ivan says. “It’s school property.”
Jax groans. “I’ll bring it back. You two are intense.”
“If by intense you mean having morals, then yes,” Ivan replies.
“What’s so special about it?” I ask.
Jax leans closer to the cart, his voice dropping. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
We keep shelving as he talks, as if we’re not paying attention.
“You ever heard of the Knotted-Hair Girl?” he asks.
Ivan drops a book.
“No,” I say. “Who?”
The boys exchange a look.
Ivan clears his throat. “She disappeared twenty years ago. People said she heard The Pit calling her.”
“So it’s another story about someone running away,” I say.
“You don’t believe it?”
“Of course not.”
Jax’s grin sharpens. “They say it happened on senior dance night. Full moon. She walked out the back door and never came back.”
“And?” I ask.
“And the tape I took—” He taps the back of his shirt. “Dance Night. Twenty years ago.”
I stare at him. “You’re saying—”
“Worth checking out,” he says. Then nods toward Ivan. “Worth bending a rule or two.”
“You should leave that stuff alone,” I breathe.
Jax glances at me. “Worried?”
“Not worried, just not stupid.”
Ms. Rowan shushes us so sharply a book slides off her own desk.
We finish cataloging the rest of the cart in silence, the only sounds being the soft thud of books on the table and the scratch of my pen on the inventory sheet.
I focus so hard on the classification numbers that they start to swim, but it’s better than looking at Jax.
The fact that I’m almost disappointed when Ms. Rowan finally clears her throat and tells us we’re free to go just proves how far gone I really am.
As we head out, Jax says, “So. You in?”
“In what?” I ask.
“Watching the tape. Tomorrow. After school. My place.”
I let out a short laugh. “No.”
“I’m in,” Ivan says quickly.
We both look at him.
His ears turn red. “I—I want to know.”
Jax nods once. “Then it’s all three or none.”
Ivan looks at me, hopeful, and I hate that it works on me.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I’m in.”
Jax smiles, satisfied. “Good. My parents won’t be home. Just come over. I live—”
“Everyone knows where you live,” Ivan sighs.
He’s right. Everyone knows where Jax St. Clair lives.