Chapter Seven
Hattie
I'm neck deep—literally—in a stack of books when my mother calls. I consider sending her to voicemail, but I'm a little worried she might actually set foot inside a library for once in her life if I ignore her.
I scramble for my phone, grabbing it from my purse at the last second.
"Hello?" I pant, out of breath. Sorting and restocking books is hard work. It's even harder when you have to take breaks every so often to skim through the pages. Look, I didn't choose the reader life. The reader life chose me.
"It took you long enough to answer."
"I'm at work, Mom," I remind her…not that she ever remembers that I have a job. Her idea of work and mine are drastically different. She's been pampered and spoiled her entire life, and I think she takes it as a personal failure that I refuse to live the same way.
"Well, you weren't at work when you decided not to inform me that you'd be going out with Sidney Hawkes last night," she sniffs. "I mean, honestly. Henrietta. You don't tell your own mother, who is breaking her neck trying to find you a wedding date, that you already have a date? Shameful."
"It slipped my mind," I lie. "Besides, I told you that I didn't need a date."
"Yes, well, you could have told me that you didn't need one because you already had one. I can't have you showing up to your brother's wedding alone. What would people think?"
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe that I'm single?"
"You don't have to be snippy."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking a deep breath. "I'm not trying to be snippy. I just don't understand the problem."
"Of course you don't," she sighs. "You never do, Henrietta. Well, it doesn't matter now. I've already had to call Cory and inform him that you aren't available after all. He was devastated, the poor boy."
"The poor boy?" I pull the phone away from my face, gaping at it. "Mom, he's a total creep!"
"Oh, please, Henrietta. Not this again. He's just traditional.
There's nothing wrong with that, you know.
Some women want to be taken care of by a good, strong man.
Honestly, it wouldn't hurt for you to try a little harder.
I can make an appointment with my surgeon, I'm sure Sidney would appreciate an upgrade. "
An upgrade? Seriously? Am I a damn computer?
"Sidney appreciates me just fine like I am.
And Cory is neither of those things," I mutter, my tone dark.
"And women are allowed to do whatever they want to do.
" I don't care if a woman wants to stay home and live a traditional life or stay home and be a trophy like my mom.
I don't care if she wants to climb mountains, rescue blind goats, or fight crime, either.
It's her life, not mine. But it should be her choice, not something someone decided for her or forced her into or gave her no way out of.
Everyone has an opinion about how women should be women, like there's a right or wrong way to do it.
From where I'm standing, it seems impossible, regardless of how you do it.
So…why not just let us decide what works best for us as individuals and back off?
We aren't a collective. We don't share a brain, desires, dreams, or needs.
So why do so many people treat us like we are?
My mother is one of them. She has her own ideas of what it means to be a woman, and every other woman on the planet is a failure if they don't do it her way.
Since she's decided I'm not beautiful enough to be a trophy, she's convinced I need a man like Cory, as if forcing me to stay home and cater to a creep like him will somehow magically transform me into someone more palatable.
No, thanks. I would, literally, rather die alone.
"I'm not you, Mom. I'm Hattie. Why can't that be enough?" I ask, tired all the way to my bones.
"I don't want to have this ridiculous argument again, Henrietta," she says, right on cue. "You're too na?ve to even know who you are or how the world works. I just called to confirm if you and Sidney are attending your brother's wedding together."
"Yes," I sigh into the phone. "He's my date."
"You should bring him over for dinner before then," she says.
"I'll do that," I lie. "But I have to go. Someone needs help."
"Talk later, dea—"
I hang up before she finishes, dropping my phone to the counter. "Pigs will literally grow wings and fly to space before I take Sidney to dinner over there," I growl.
"Over where?"
I jump, spinning to the left to see Sidney standing on the far side of the library counter, watching me intently with his arms crossed over a faded Timberwolves tee that clings to his body. His hair is damp, like he showered recently.
"My mother's," I groan, massaging my temples. "She's seen the photos."
"She called you?"
"Unfortunately." I drop my hands, sighing. "She wants me to bring you for dinner before the wedding."
"Ah."
"That will not be happening."
"You heard," he says, his expression grim.
"Heard? Heard what?"
He sighs heavily, his jaw pulsing, and then shakes his head. "Come here." He holds a hand out to me.
"Right now?" I dart a glance around the library, but it's mostly empty this afternoon. Wednesdays are the one day a week we don't schedule activities. It's always the slowest day of the week.
"Right now," Sidney says, his lips twitching.
I hurry around the counter to him, not even hesitating to burrow into his arms when he opens them for me. His scent wraps around me, loosening knots all over my body. God, he feels like safety in the wildest way.
"You're stressed out," he murmurs, rubbing my back.
"Maybe a little bit." I peek up at him. "Talking to her always stresses me out."
"Is that all it is?" His gaze scans over my face like he's trying to root out all my secrets. "You sure there isn't more to it?"
"I…" I huff out a breath. "Maybe there have been like ten different people here today, asking me about you."
His lips compress into a hard line. "Reporters?"
"Curious patrons." I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, not sure I like his expression. "I didn't tell them anything, if that's what you're worried about."
His gaze snaps to mine again, crackling with heat. "You think I care if the whole world knows you're mine?"
"I…"
"I'm not ashamed of you, Hattie," he growls, tipping my head back. "And I damn sure won't allow you to be ashamed of yourself, either. You're perfect. But—"
My stomach clenches.
"For your sake, perhaps we should lay off the photos for a while."
I'm not sure why that stings when I usually hate being photographed or in the news, but it stings anyway.
Maybe because, for once, I don't hate it entirely.
Even knowing that half the world is probably talking crap about how I don't fit with him or deserve him or whatever…
I like knowing that I'm the one on his arm in the photos from dinner.
It made him feel like mine.
You're playing with fire, a little voice whispers.
It isn't wrong. Dating him, sleeping with him, getting close to him, is absolutely playing with fire. It has the potential to burn me up and burn me out. But I want to keep lighting the fuse anyway.
"Oh, okay. Sure," I mumble. "We can do that."
For some reason, that answer doesn't satisfy him. If anything, it makes him look even grumpier than usual. His eyes narrow on me, a growl rumbling in his chest. "Where do you go when you want five minutes alone?"
"What?" I frown up at him.
"Where in this library do you go to hide out when you don't want anyone to find you?" he asks.
"Oh, um…the map stack. No one ever goes there."
"Show me."
I hesitate for a split second before leading him across the library.
We weave between stacks until we arrive at the map and reference section.
It's in the back corner for a reason. Maps have never been a popular item in a library, but they're even less so since the arrival of GPS.
And reference books are pretty much obsolete since the invention of the internet.
But we still keep them around because sometimes, it's far easier to open a book to find what you need than it is to scour the internet.
Sidney backs me up against a shelf that contains the world atlas, his hands planted on the shelf on either side of my head, bracketing it. His body brushes mine as he dips his head, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"I'm not ashamed of you, butterfly," he growls. "So get that thought out of your head right now."
"I didn't think that," I whisper.
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying," I huff, my eyes narrowing on him. "Has anyone ever told you that you're awful bossy sometimes?"
"I don't care if I'm being bossy." His lips skim the side of my face. "I'd rather have you pissed because you think I'm an asshole than have you sad, thinking I'm embarrassed to be seen with you."
"I mean…you did just demand I bring you to my hiding spot," I say. It's supposed to be a joke, but he does not take it that way.
His teeth sink into the shell of my ear, delivering a sharp bite.
"I wanted privacy because I can't keep my hands off you.
Didn't think you'd appreciate everyone in this library seeing what I want to do to you.
But I'm more than happy to spread you out on one of those big ass tables out there and eat you in front of God and everybody, Hattie baby. Just say the word."
"Sidney," I whimper. "You c-can't do that."
"I can." He nips my skin again. "You think I give a fuck what people think? I told you already, I don't live my life worried about what's in their heads. I care about what's in yours. And it's pissing me off that you think I don't want to be seen with you."
"I d-don't think that."
"I saw your face, Hattie. That's exactly what you thought."
"Is not." God, it's hard to think when his mouth is on me. He's wreaking havoc on my system right now, and all I want to do is climb his body and let him ruin me again. "You saw me realizing that, for the first time, I didn't hate being photographed."