Page 16 of Once Marked (Riley Paige #19)
April moved through the Jefferson Bell University cafeteria, looking for a place to sit down.
It was only her first week of college, and everything still felt a bit intimidating.
Although the aroma of freshly baked pizza flirting with the robust scent of coffee permeated the air, her tray held a salad bowl and a bottle of water.
She scanned the crowded space for a solitary island in the throng, a place to sit and gather herself.
Her eyes flitted from one partly occupied table to another until they landed on a figure near the window.
There was a guy sitting alone, absorbed in his books, ignoring a sandwich beside him that looked like it had been untouched for hours.
His focus was so intense it seemed to create a bubble of isolation around him in the otherwise bustling environment.
Then he glanced up at her, and just as quickly turned his glance away.
She found something familiar about his posture, the way he seemed to carry an invisible weight on his shoulders.
It made her think of her mother, Riley, who often bore the same look after a particularly harrowing case.
April, herself, knew that look all too well—the cost of carrying burdens that were too heavy to share.
She took a step closer, wondering what story lay behind the young man’s concentrated frown. His presence struck a chord within her, resonating with the part of April that understood what it was like to feel alone even in a crowd. She steeled herself with a breath and moved toward his table.
The lone figure at the window table glanced up once, his gaze cautious and quickly averted.
She realized it was the quiet guy from her morning class, an enigmatic presence who had sat in the back row, blending with the woodwork.
He hadn’t said a word during the heated debate on political systems, but his attentive eyes had absorbed every detail, every argument.
She hesitated for a moment, the clatter of the cafeteria fading into a muted backdrop.
Her pulse quickened; approaching him was a leap into unknown waters, far from the safety of the routines she’d built to shield herself after past traumas.
Yet something in his furtive glances beckoned her.
It was as if he were a kindred spirit, someone who knew the value of observation.
Perhaps it was his solitude in this sea of camaraderie that struck a chord with her, or maybe the way his guarded demeanor reminded her of herself—always watching, always wary.
Swallowing the flutter of nerves in her throat, April took a decisive step toward his table. “Hi there,” she greeted him. “Mind if I join you?”
As surprise flitted across the young man’s face, April noted the quick transition from bewilderment to warmth.
His blue eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that seemed to flicker between uncertainty and something more elusive, almost electric.
He cleared a space with hasty movements, his books stacking like a makeshift fortress between them.
“Oh, uh, sure! That would be great,” he managed, voice tinged with a stammer that spoke of nerves not quite tamed.
“Thank you,” April said, as she lowered her tray across from his on the table, creating a bridge over the barrier of textbooks. She took her seat, aware of the subtle shifts in her internal balance—this was new territory, engaging with someone who radiated a quiet intensity that mirrored her own.
April introduced herself first, “I’m April Paige, from the American Politics class this morning. I don’t think we’ve met properly.”
“Leo Dillard,” he said, and his smile widened as though her recognition was a lifeline thrown into the waters of his solitude. “And yeah, I remember you from class. You made some really great points about the Electoral College.”
April’s gaze lingered on Leo. It felt nice to be recognized, to know her voice had carried weight in the classroom earlier that day. “Thanks,” she said, the crunch of lettuce from her salad punctuating the moment. “I noticed you didn’t speak up in class. Are you not into politics, or just shy?”
Leo’s laughter was a nervous flutter. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, an endearing gesture that softened his features. “A bit of both, I guess. Plus, I’m not actually enrolled in the class. I’m just auditing it.”
The revelation caught April off guard, her fork pausing mid-air. “Really? That’s interesting. Are you a student here?”
A shade of red crept up Leo’s neck, and he shook his head, a sheepish smile cracking the confident facade he had held moments prior.
“Not yet. I’m working at a local bookstore to save up money for tuition.” His hands fidgeted with a napkin, folding and unfolding it as he spoke. “In the meantime, I audit classes when I can. Trying to get a head start, you know?”
April noted the faint flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. Here was someone striving against the current, and she couldn’t help but feel a connection, recalling her own struggles and the resilience they demanded. Her mother had always taught her to appreciate the grit in others.
“Wow,” April murmured, her admiration genuine. “That’s really proactive of you.” Her gaze lingered on Leo’s earnest expression, her own features softening with respect.
“That’s admirable,” she added sincerely, the clamor of the cafeteria fading to a distant hum as she focused on their conversation. “It must be tough balancing work and studies like that.”
Leo shrugged, and even though his casual gesture was meant to downplay the effort, April could see a glint of pride in his eyes at her recognition.
“It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’ll be worth it in the end. I’ve always wanted to study here.” His voice held a note of longing that resonated with April; she understood the pull of dreams and the weight of obstacles all too well.
As they continued to chat, April felt an unexpected connection forming.
He spoke with an articulate passion about the books he loved, and she was taken aback to discover they shared similar tastes in literature.
The minutes slipped away unnoticed as they exchanged thoughts on classic novels and dissected the intricacies of contemporary plots.
“Have you read ‘The Shadow of the Wind’?” Leo asked, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.
“Of course,” April replied, her own excitement matching his. “Zafón’s narrative is captivating. It’s like he weaves a spell with every page.”
“Exactly!” Leo exclaimed, leaning forward.
Their conversation spun from one book to another, each title a stepping stone deeper into shared interests.
They debated character motivations, authorial intent, and the impact of societal context on storytelling—and all the while, April noted how seamlessly their dialogue flowed, as if they’d known each other for years.
“I should probably admit something,” he said, his voice a notch lower than before.
The cafeteria’s din seemed to fade into the background as he continued.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you since class this morning.
That’s why I was looking at you earlier.
I hope I didn’t come across as creepy or anything. ”
April managed a laugh, light and airy, hoping to dispel the weight of his concern. “Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were stalking me or anything like that. I’m glad I came over to say hi.”
Leo’s relief was almost tangible, a cloud lifting from his demeanor, revealing a smile that included his eyes.
“Me too. It’s nice to make a friend here.
Sometimes I feel a bit out of place, not being a full-time student yet.
” His admission resonated with April; she understood the feeling of being on the fringes, of trying to find one’s footing in a world that sometimes felt too large, too indifferent.
“Well, if you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help,” April offered, her voice carrying an undercurrent of solidarity.
“We could meet up in the library sometime.” The idea of providing support to someone else felt like a step forward, a way to stitch together a sense of community she desperately sought for herself.
“Really?” Leo’s face transformed with the suggestion, a spark igniting in his eyes.
“That would be great. I might just take you up on that offer.” His enthusiasm was genuine, and April couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction at his response.
In offering her help, she’d also opened the door to something new—a fledgling friendship that held the promise of normalcy.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly after that, a comfortable back-and-forth that made the minutes slip away unnoticed. It wasn’t until April caught sight of the time on her phone that she realized how much of the afternoon had passed.
“Oh wow, I should probably get going,” she said, her voice tinged with reluctance. The warmth of their exchange had been a welcome respite from the usual anxiety that clung to her thoughts. “I’ve got some research to do at the library for tomorrow’s class.”
Leo nodded, mirroring her action as he began to pack away his books with care.
“Yeah, I should head to work for my evening shift. But this was really nice, April. Thanks for coming over to talk.” His gratitude was simple yet touching, and April felt a sense of camaraderie in their shared academic struggles.
She stood up, feeling lighter than she had when she first entered the buzzing cafeteria.
Leo also rose from his seat, his tall figure hovering over hers.
A silence fell over them, thick with the unspoken words of two strangers who had unexpectedly found common ground.
The chatter and clink of the cafeteria seemed distant, background noise to this unexpected moment of friendship.