Holding Court (20 page)

Afton sighed. “I’m hungry. Let’s get some lunch.”

We grabbed our bags from the coat check and texted Nick. He told us to go without him. Afton and I gave each other puzzled looks. He never refused food. We downed lemonades and pretzels on the Common then returned to the Athenæum. I sent a message to Nick that we were back before checking in my bag.

After Afton dragged me on a tour from breathtaking rooms framed by towering bookcases and soaring windows to a balconied patio, we rode one of the small elevators to the fifth-floor reading room. Except for a few patrons, the area was vacant. We found the books we needed for Afton’s and Nick’s summer projects and then settled at one of the tables in the middle of the room. The sucky part about going to a private school was that each summer we had to write an essay over the break. Since I hated having to-do lists hanging over my head, I’d finished mine already.

“Mint?” Afton extended a tin while flipping through a small textbook on Crispus Attucks, an African-American minuteman shot during the Boston Massacre.

“Sure. Thanks.” I grabbed one then popped it into my mouth. After flipping my notebook open, I readied my pencil to make notes on Samuel Adams for Nick.

The guy I’d bumped into in the children’s area strutted to a table across the room from us, carrying a large book. He stood out in the conservative atmosphere of the library with his messy hair and tight leather outfit clinging to his toned body. In an easy movement, he sat down and started thumbing through the volume.

From our table, I snuck glances at him. He ran his hand through his tousled hair as he studied the pages, and I couldn’t look away. It was like everyone in the room vanished; every sexy movement he made was choreographed just for me.

His gaze snapped up, catching mine.

Busted
. I choked on my breath mint.

His intense stare held me for several seconds before the corner of his lips curved up, and his dimples made an appearance. I cleared my throat. The mint sliding down my esophagus was somewhat painful.

Okay, stop staring and do something.
I gave him a bright smile, fumbling my pencil in my trembling fingers until it dropped. His eyes sparked with amusement, and he nodded at me.

“Shhhh,” Afton said in response to the pencil clattering against the table.

I glanced at her. Focused on her book, a strand of her dark hair twisted around her finger, she hadn’t even noticed him. A gust of air came from the guy’s direction and rustled her hair. I looked back at him. The pages of his book fluttered, and then settled back in place.

He was gone.