I clasp my hands over my stomach and squint at her, “I got that much, but what do you know about him?”
“Dominic knows him,” Katie replies, referring to her boyfriend, “he street races with him—or used to. Definitely ran from the cops, might’ve been involved in a high-speed chase…”
Emma pulls the curling iron away from her head, letting her hair spring back against her face. In her other hand, she furiously swipes her thumb across her phone screen.
She sets the curling iron down on the vanity and scurries around the back of the sofa, “Is this him?”
She leans over my shoulder to show me the screen. I recognize Colson immediately in the photo posted to a stranger’s Facebook page. He’s clearly at a Halloween party, dressed like an airline pilot in a white button-down shirt, black tie, and aviators with a pair of gold wings pinned to his collar. He’s sitting in the middle of a dingey maroon futon with a girl on each knee and three more sitting on either side of him. They’re all dressed as flight attendants, each in a short, skin-tight Navy-blue dress with a plunging neckline and silk scarf tied around their neck.
Colson looks like a douche. Much like he did at the last party I saw him at.
I nod in confirmation, “Yup, that’s him.”
Katie cranes her neck to examine the photo, “Lovely,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “oh, and I’m pretty sure Dominic said Colson spent last summer in Alaska out in the middle of nowhere—like, by himself—and he might’ve gotten attacked by a bear.”
“What?” I scrunch my face up, completely confused.
“Oh yeah,” she adds, “and he sleeps with all the Deltas.”
I blink, unsure of what to do with such a random smattering of information. Then again, I did ask what Katie knew about Colson. And the university rumor mill is alive and well, so accuracy cannot be guaranteed.
“So, let me process this,” Emma plants a perfectly manicured hand on her hip, “this guy, Colson, captain of the friendly skies, who also sleeps with all the Deltas—”
“Delta Airlines…” Katie interrupts with a snicker.
I cringe as Emma continues, “invited you to a party last Friday, blew you off, left a signed first edition of a book you like at your door, and then asked you to go to the library on a Friday night, to work on a paper?”
“Yeah,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say.
Emma taps the air with her index finger, “There’s something real sketch about this.”
I frown, feeling slightly offended, “Why?”
She squints at me skeptically, “Doesn’t it seem odd to you?”
I crossed my arms with indignance, “Yeah, it’s real sketch that some guy wants to spend time with me!”
Emma thrusts her arm out in desperation, “But it’s the library! And after what he did?”
Katie’s eyebrows shoot up and she smacks her knee, “Exactly! That’s the last place something sketch would happen!”
“That’s not true!” Barrett bursts out of the bedroom, “Have you ever been back in the stacks late at night? Some people are freaks.”
Katie’s eyes light up, “Maybe that’s why he wants to go to the library!”
“Oh my god!” I shout in exasperation, slamming my palm down on the sofa cushion.
Suddenly, I feel my phone vibrate.
COLSON (6:09PM): Be on campus in 15
Ten minutes later, after practically fleeing my apartment, I’m in my blue Impreza speeding toward campus to meet Colson at the glass doors in front of Thompson. I’m not a complete fool, I make sure to look halfway decent by scrunching my hair and putting on some makeup before I leave, even if I have to deal with Katie and Barrett’s jeers and Emma’s disapproving looks as I go.
I park on an empty side street next to the classroom buildings, where I can already hear the familiar Friday night sounds in the distance; disembodied shouts and laughs preparing to guzzle too much alcohol in too short of a time.
I stroll into the oval, meandering along the spiderweb paths and breathing aromas of cut grass and wood fire smoke. As I approach the cut stone arches framing the entrance, I see Colson standing against the wall next to the glass doors, his hands tucked in the pockets of his hunter green Patagonia jacket. He’s wearing charcoal grey joggers with a black T-shirt and the same grey and neon yellow sneakers he wears every single day. As soon as we make eye contact, I wave and he comes to the edge of the brick path to wait for me.
“You made it.” His deep voice sounds louder without the dull roar of a crowded campus.
“Barely,” I say as I follow him to the glass doors, “I didn’t realize how everyone would lose their minds after they found out I was going to the library and not out to the bar.”
“Which ones do you go to?” he asks, holding the door open for me.
“Either Tank’s or Four North.”
“I’ve never seen you at Four North.”
I glance over my shoulder at him with a smirk, “I guess that depends how drunk you are.”
Or how many girls are hanging on you at one time.
“Brett’s got jokes,” he drawls as he follows me through the doors.
We make our way across the marble floor to the stairs and up the staircase to the third floor, emerging into a long room lined with thick, oak tables. The entire floor looks empty, unsurprising for a Friday night. I choose one across the room beneath one of the giant windows.
“Hey, um…” I hesitate as I pull out my chair, trying to decide how to broach the subject, “thank you—for the book.” It shouldn’t be this difficult, but it is.
“You’re welcome,” Colson cracks a smile and sits down next to me.
