Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1 by Nikki Lane (old books to read txt) 📗

I shrugged. “Free country.”

He pulled out the chair and sat down. The table he’d come from had become noticeably quiet. I knew this wasn’t just a friendly hello from a random hot guy.

“Studying for finals?” he said.

“Trying to.”

He smiled, revealing two deep dimples on his cheeks. “Me, too. But finding it kind of hard.”

“Why is that?” I finally summoned enough courage to look him in the eye.

“Too many distractions.”

“In the library?” My gaze darted around the room. “Find that hard to believe.”

I caught the glance he stole at the other table. “Not when there’s a hot girl sitting so close.”

I folded my hands over the book in front of me. “I’m flattered, really, but I’m just trying to study.”

He held up his hands. “That’s cool. I understand.” He got up from his chair and pushed it in. “Just one more thing, though…me and my boys have been here for a few hours”—he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket—“and could use a little entertainment. We were wondering if maybe you could get on top of this table and put on a little show.” The money he flicked fluttered in front of me. “What do you think?”

Snickers echoed from the other table. I bolted up from my seat, and it felt like my heart dropped to my stomach.

I snatched my things off the desk and crammed them into my bag, not even bothering to zip it up. The guy who’d been sent over to ridicule me made his way back to the group with a satisfied smirk on his face.

I threw the bag over my shoulder. My cheeks burned, and I hoped that my face didn’t give away the humiliation that was searing through me like some hot iron snake. I didn’t run. I wanted to. Sprinting wouldn’t have been fast enough for me. But I forced each foot to take deliberate steps out of the room. I could run eventually…just not now. Not in front of them. I would run because I wanted to, not because a group of assholes decided they’d get off on making a fool out of me.

I made it out of the room and into the stairwell, but relief hadn’t come. An invisible vise was snug around my throat. I thought when I was alone it would loosen. I scurried down the steps and slid down a few when my feet couldn’t keep up with my pace.

I’d reached the ground floor, and still the vise hadn’t slackened. I cupped a clammy hand around my neck just to make sure there wasn’t something there. Nothing but my bare skin.

I avoided all eye contact walking toward the library doors. It felt like everyone knew now. Everyone was able to judge, make their assumptions. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back in time. I was stronger than that. At least, I always hoped I was. I’d seen and heard way worse shit than what was thrown at me upstairs. Why was someone I didn’t even know able to tear me down so quickly?

Through the oversized windows, the gray clouds promised to purge on my walk home.

I trotted toward the exit, hoping the open air would induce the deep breath I was craving. Rain started to pelt down, blurring the glass of the double doors. Someone pulled the door open, and I kept my gaze plastered to the floor, waiting for them to walk through.

“Maeve?”

I could feel the vise relax at the sound of the familiar voice. I looked up to see Jacob on the other side of the open door.

I didn’t see Taylor until she walked through the door. All I could do was stare at Jacob. He’d shaved his scruff and his hair was shorn close to his head. His hazel eyes widened as his gaze fluttered around my face.

“Are you okay?” he said, letting the door close behind him.

“I-I’m fine.”

A roll of thunder reverberated from outside.

Taylor cleared her throat. “We better get started on studying, baby.”

She put extra emphasis on the word “baby,” and I internally cringed, my insides twisting.

Jacob kept his eyes on me. “Why don’t you go find a table then,” he said to Taylor. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

She glanced at me and huffed before walking toward the elevators.

“What happened, Maeve?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I have to go.” I took a few steps backwards before walking outside. Raindrops kissed my face.

“Maeve, wait!” Jacob cried from behind me. The rain came down a little harder.

I didn’t turn around, but my pace slowed. He reached for my hand. The sensation of holding his hand sent daggers through my chest. This pain was just too much. Unbearable. It felt like I could crack apart at any minute.

“I have to go, Jacob,” I said, stealing a look his way. I freed my hand from his and decided that now would be a good time to run.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I lay in bed, still wearing my leotard and tights, gazing at the black rock of my mood ring. The night Jacob had won it for me, the ring had been green, which meant a normal mood. Neutral, I’d say. Whenever I’d run away from home, it’d turn gray—anxious. At the farm, helping Aunt Meg or playing with Jacob at the lake, it would always be blue—calm. The day Jacob left for Florida, the ring had faded to black. And it hadn’t changed since—not until Jacob came back. It was like the ring could sense his presence.

I had planned on catching a ballet class but hadn’t been able to muster the motivation to leave the apartment. Make that my bedroom. I checked the time on my phone. If I left in a few minutes, I could still make it on time.

I checked my text messages and pressed Jacob’s thread. It wasn’t a thread, really. Just one message. I had deleted the ones prior. Shortly after I had the worst trip to the library ever, he’d sent me one