Page 6

As the crowd thins, I search for Liv, eventually finding her in the kitchen, smiling and holding court with three elegant KPTs. After a rough start, she’s owning this open house. Maybe I could’ve stayed in and worked on my sociology paper after all. She doesn’t seem to have needed me.

But once we’re outside and far enough away from the house, she gushes at me, “You have no idea. Every single sister I talked to was like, ‘You’re Betts Peterson’s roommate?

That’s so awesome. Do you know any of the O-Chi brothers?

’” She hugs me as we walk. “You’re my ticket in.

I knew you would be. Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming tonight. ”

Caitlyn’s commentary is much more straightforward. “The food sucked, but the sisters were nice.”

I nod. In general I agree, the sisters were nice.

Although I can’t help but wonder what’s lurking under all the perfume and poise.

I’ll withhold judgment for now, for Liv’s sake, since she’s found a group she wants to be part of.

Hopefully, in the coming weeks, after a few more open houses, I’ll find a sorority that gets me as excited as she is about KPT.

A library study carrel isn’t exactly the coziest place to be on a chilly October night, but working in my dorm room isn’t an option.

Liv has been rambling non-stop about last night’s open house, and even though I dropped subtle hints that I needed to concentrate on my sociology paper, she couldn’t seem to contain herself.

So here I sit, with numb fingers and frozen feet.

I’m pretty sure all the library’s electricity goes to the computers, because its HVAC is almost nonexistent.

But its Gothic Revival architecture is sublime.

To help me focus, I’ve got Lo-Fi coming through my ear buds, but there’s nothing to stop me from gazing out the nearby, three-paned window to watch students pass under the orange pools of light made by the street lamps.

Eventually, I rally all my brain cells and knock out a good half hour of steady writing.

The end is in sight. I may not finish before the library closes, but I don’t think I’ll have to pull an all-nighter to get this paper done.

Hoping some movement might help warm up my toes, I rise, stretch, and take a little walk among the stacks, one eye on my laptop asleep in the carrel.

I zig-zag up and down the aisles of history books: twentieth century, Gilded Age, Civil War.

At the end of the New World aisle, I stop dead.

There’s an obstacle up ahead. An oblivious guy rudely blocking my path.

No, wait. Not just any guy?—

Leo.

He’s sitting on the floor with his back against one of the shelves, a mountain of books at his hip and his long legs stretched out in front of him. His hair shields his eyes as he reads, and his feet, crossed at the ankle and clad in Doc Martens, twitch back and forth to a silent beat.

I hold my breath, tempted to turn around and escape before he notices me. He’s not a distraction I need right now. Or ever. It’s those eyes of his. They seem to see straight into me. And I can’t decide if I like that.

Okay, stop being a wimp .

Out of my mouth comes a squeaky, “Hi.”

He startles and looks up, and his entire demeanor changes from intense concentration to surprised delight. “Betts. Hi.” He lays his book on his lap, open and face down.

I take a step or two closer. “So you’re a library mouse too, huh? ”

“One of my favorite places to be.”

Like all good library mice we’re keeping our voices low, even though this late there aren’t many people close by.

He asks, “What are you working on?”

“Sociology paper.” I glance over at my laptop to make sure no one’s swiped it before I toss his question back at him. He holds up his book so I can see the title.

“ The Lost Colony of Roanoke ,” I read aloud. “Is that for one of your classes?”

“No. Just a personal interest.”

Really? Wow. It’s an intriguing mystery, to be sure, how Sir Walter Raleigh’s entire colony of settlers disappeared without a trace in only a couple of years.

And if I remember correctly, this all happened before Jamestown.

I doubt most people even know about it—only those of us who live in a southeastern coastal state.

“I haven’t been there, but I know the general story.” I don’t admit that I’ve visited the Outer Banks numerous times, but could never be bothered with Roanoke Island. “Have you gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you see a re-enactment? I heard they’re pretty good.”

“No. I think they only do those in the summer.”

He scoots a pile of books out of the way and invites me to join him.

I sit down, cross-legged, beside him. “Don’t they think the colonists were killed by the Native Americans?”

“That’s one of the theories.” His pensive look suggests he has other ideas.

“You don’t think so?”

He smiles. “Nothing’s ever that simple.”

The lighting is less shadowy here than in O-Chi’s kitchen. His thick, black eyelashes and perfectly imperfect teeth are clearly visible. I can even make out the subtle cleft in his chin.

Stop staring.

I make myself busy straightening his stacks of books, hoping he doesn’t notice the color rising on my cheeks. I clear my throat. “What are the other theories?”

“Some think the settlers assimilated with the Croatan, and others say they went further inland and joined the tribes there. Then there are those like this guy,” he taps the book, “who think they all died of starvation or disease.”

“So who do you think is right?” I ask, because I can tell he has an opinion he’d like to share.

And because, oddly, I’d like to hear it.

“I don’t necessarily think the colonists all stayed together. Maybe some of them joined the Croatan, but others might’ve gone inland too.” He suddenly grins. “And maybe a couple tried to swim back to England.”

I’m so startled by his joke that I burst into a laugh, one too loud for a library mouse. I slap a hand over my mouth and glance nervously over my shoulder, afraid a stern old lady might be coming for my knuckles with a ruler.

Leo’s chuckle fades into a smile. “I’m glad you’re talking to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”

“Because I scared you?”

“Only a little.” Not enough to make me stay away from him, even if I probably should.

He shifts his weight and angles himself toward me, drawing me yet again into a warm little bubble. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

“You were?” I ask, even though I’ve been expecting him to show up at the next O-Chi party, looking for me.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

I blush and blurt, “I have a boyfriend.”

“I know.” He gives me one of his half-smiles. “We established that already.”

Mortified, I go back to fiddling with his books.

“It’s okay.” His laugh is gentle. “It did sound like I was asking you out. But don’t worry, I’m not looking to date or anything.

I just thought you might want to hang out with me and some of my friends.

You know, do something a little different.

” He dips his head and chases my eyes until I reluctantly focus on him.

“Different?” I hedge. “Different from what?”

He answers with an arched brow.

“So what do you and your friends do?” Besides house parties, Alderford doesn’t have much to offer.

I can’t picture Leo hanging out at the pool bar or stuffing his face with beers and burgers at Mike’s Grill.

Now Mountain Brew, the coffee shop, yeah.

He looks like the type who camps out there until he’s covered in cobwebs.

He shrugs. “Eat, talk, maybe have a drink or two. Sometimes we play games.”

So maybe he’s not so different from Zander and the O-Chi’s after all. The brothers love to have Mortal Kombat and Call of Duty tournaments. But I’d bet an epic fantasy game would be more Leo’s style. “What, like Elden Ring?”

Uh oh. Blank look again. Suspicion confirmed: he’s definitely from Mars.

“You know, the video game?”

“Oh. No,” he laughs. “We usually play tabletop games.”

“So like Dungeons and Dragons and stuff like that?” I’m not a big fan; seems like a lot of work just to hear a good story. Why not just read a novel?

Leo’s amused—by me, I think. “Yeah, stuff more like that.”

How do I politely say no? Because even though I’m intrigued by the idea of doing “something a little different,” it’s not feasible.

Let’s say I make an excuse and go hang out with Leo and his friends.

It’s a long shot, but what if I enjoy it?

What if I want to hang out with them again?

My life is my classes, Zander, Liv, and parties.

There’s no room for anything else, especially something so far outside my usual sphere.

I picture myself telling Zander I can’t come over because I’m gonna go play board games with some other guy and his friends. He’d look at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Tell you what—” Leo takes a spiral notebook out of his backpack and starts writing on the first blank sheet. “ This is where we’ll be.” He tears off a corner and hands it to me. I guess he’s never heard of a smartphone. “If you decide you want to join us, just come on over.”

“Um, okay.”

“After seven.”

I nod, staring down at the writing but not registering any of the words. I get this strange sense I’m holding more than a torn sheet of notebook paper; I’m holding possibilities. Some ominous, some exciting, some just plain weird.

“Okay,” I say again as I get to my feet. I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “I should get back to my paper. It’s due tomorrow.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

He smiles and I can’t help but smile back. We look at each other just one beat too long before I turn on my heel and head for my carrel.