EIGHT
NIKKI
Determined to do my best with the cards I was dealt, I found myself faced with a major research project that legitimized my frequent trips to the library in earnest, rather than only going there as a means of avoiding social interactions with my fellow students.
And my slovenly appearance went from bad to worse.
Once upon a time, my personal appearance was one of my biggest priorities, so much so that my sorority sisters used to not only tease me about it but I was also the first person whose closet would be raided before whatever event happened to be going on. Well, that was the old me. The new, much more dumpy and frumpy me turned out to be the most successful means for avoiding all male attention. And that was just fine by me.
In such an unkempt state, I stayed hidden within myself where I was safe. Just as safe as being lodged deep inside the stacks of the dark library, where I spent my time researching the term paper Derek Anderson had tasked me with.
Everyone else in the class was given the opportunity to select their own subject on which to write, but Derek, maybe thinking it was some kind of sick joke, decided to task me with a project of his choosing. That project included finding at least five novels from a time period before women’s suffrage for which I could make a feminist case. And that wasn’t proving to be easy. But, I was an English major, so I figured this was the sort of stuff I’d signed up for.
As far as Professor Anderson was concerned, I didn’t know what to make of him. He’d only taught our class for a couple of weeks now, but he was one of those people who seemed to change his personality every time we saw him. Sometimes he would be in a jocular, good mood, and other times, he’d scowl at you for no apparent reason.
Of course, I knew who he was before he’d ever ventured into our class. He had a reputation that preceded him. That one being that he was as much a rogue as any of the literary characters with which he surrounded himself. There were rumors that he’d dated students and that he was forever in trouble with the dean. I’d even heard whispered conversations from the girls in my sorority that he was the ultimate “rebel and bad boy” and insanely hot to boot. And there was the subject of the size of his penis. Apparently it was a big one.
Not that I cared, because I didn’t. Even with his brooding good looks, he was invisible to me. Regardless, with his dark hair and eyes, his moodiness and his quick temper, he was like Heathcliff come to life.
But I wasn’t attracted to him. Well, truth be told, I wasn’t attracted to any men because I refused to turn that side of me back on. Instead, I enjoyed finding sanctuary within my new self and kept busy with the inordinately difficult project Derek had given me. It was just another excuse to bury myself in the library, especially because Derek told me I couldn’t use the Internet in my research. Yes, he was most definitely a jerk.
I wasn’t sure why he’d singled me out with this project, but I didn’t think that much about it. I just figured he derived some sort of perverse pleasure in expecting way too much from his students. But what he didn’t know was that I welcomed this enormous project because it was just another way for me to avoid interacting with anyone.
And that was exactly how I’d spent every evening for the last week—at the library, stuck between stalls of books and always returning to the same study table in the darkest corner of the room. If someone happened to occupy said table, which was extremely rare, I would temporarily set up at the closest empty one that allowed me to keep an eye on “my table” until the interloper left and I could rush in and re-stake my claim. Yes, this is what I had been reduced to—laying claim to a library table.
It was on one such occasion, when I was forced to another table, that I suddenly ran into a much bigger snag, one that forced me from the safety of my solitude and found me seeking help from a student at the circulation desk. He was male, a fact which I tried not to hold against him. I approached the desk with reluctance, hoping he’d be able to locate my book quickly and send me on my way without any small talk. The new Nikki Sloan didn’t do small talk.
“Excuse me,” I said softly, approaching the clerk. He was eagerly engrossed in a thick volume of what appeared to have something to do with Quantum Physics, sucked into it almost as if it were a romance novel.
He sighed heavily, setting the book aside as he looked down at me impatiently. As soon as he laid eyes on me, though, his expression changed and he immediately smiled. But it wasn’t a friendly sort of smile—it was one of those seedy, “how you doin’” smiles that made me want to gag.
“And just what can I help you with, little lady?” he asked as he leaned over his desk, closer to me. “Hmm?”
Oh, God, here we go. I braced myself.
With his perfectly straight, though too large, teeth, I could easily envision him wearing a retainer, along with the full headset, to complete the already off-putting mental image. That thought was only further highlighted by his glasses with their Coke-bottle-thick lenses.
“I’m trying to find a book,” I answered.
“And it would be my absolute pleasure to help such an attractive lady find said book,” he answered as he bowed debonairly and his glasses nearly slid off his Ichabod Crane nose. The beaming smile he flashed my way spoke volumes. He was obviously quite proud of his “lady skills.”
My reaction? I threw up a little bit in my mouth. Regardless, though, I still needed the book and I couldn’t locate it on my own, which meant I still required his help. I passed him the scrap of paper, on which I’d written the catalogue number, swiftly pushing it across the desk toward him. He sat up straight as he lifted the piece of paper up.
“I can’t seem to find this anywhere in the stacks,” I said.
“Well, now, let me see,” he replied as he peered down at the paper now clutched in his fat fingers. With his narrowed expression, he almost appeared cross-eyed.
“The DECA system says that it is available,” I replied with some frustration because I really didn’t want to waste time standing here when I had much better things I could be doing—like spending time by myself.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, honey,” he started as he smiled down at me again.
“Break it to me,” I grumbled.
“The patrons of this library don’t have access to all of the information concerning the books in our catalogue. The information in the DECA system is outdated.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means,” he started as he plopped his flaky elbows back down onto the desk and leaned into me as far as he could without actually coming over the tabletop. “Your book might not be in … circulation at this time.” The way he said “circulation” made it sound like he was saying a dirty word. The bile in my throat tripled.
I fought back my initially venomous response because I was very aware that I needed this guy on my side rather than against me. If there was any possibility of finding this book, he would be the one to do it. And this was one book that needed to be found. Being aptly titled Women in Literature, A Study of the Female Character, it was a book that I direly needed.
“Oh no,” I said as I gnawed at my lower lip and decided to play the part of damsel in distress. No doubt, that would appeal to his overdeveloped sense of faux chivalry. I had to watch it, though, because if I overplayed my part, I might find myself invited to his next medieval reenactment event.
“Not to fear,” he said as he awarded me with that horse grin again. “Because I do possess a system that is more up to date than the one you are currently using.” He took a breath. “And before you ask me why some of the computers are outfitted with an out-of-date system, I will tell you that the school is in the process of updating all the computers with the newest technology.”
“Oh, good,” I answered, not sure what else to say.
He faced his computer and chewed on the end of his already misshapen pencil which was littered with teeth marks and, no doubt, covered in saliva. Gross. After clicking through a few pages and scrolling his mouse nine or ten times, he smiled. I hoped that was a good sign.
“You, my dear lady, are in luck,” he said as he faced me with a victorious smile. “It turns out that your book is still in circulation, which, of course, means that it is available for you to check out.”
“Great! So now I just have to find out where it is,” I said as I wondered when he’d get to that most important point.
He studied the screen for a few more seconds, moving the mouse to examine other information that, no doubt, was very exclusive except to people like him. “Women in Literature, A Study of the Female Character; Third Edition, from Harper & Row hasn’t been checked out in several years, actually,” he announced with a perplexed expression on his face, like he couldn’t understand how that could be. “It might have been misplaced when it was re-shelved, or mayhap, it was … I hate to even consider it, but mayhap it was … stolen.”
Mayhap? I thought to myself. Yes, this guy definitely sported tights and outdated weapons in his free time.
“Do you really think that anyone would steal that book?” I mocked him sarcastically, almost immediately regretting the words because the book still wasn’t in my hands, which meant I probably still needed him. “I mean, it doesn’t exactly scream interesting,” I added in a softer tone.
He looked around to see if anyone were watching before leaning in toward me as though he intended to share an enormous state secret while hiding amongst counter espionage agents who were posted on every corner. As he did so, I figured I should probably play along and even leaned in, although I avoided getting too close.
“You would be surprised what people try to steal from the library.”
“Would I, now?” I asked, my eyes wide.
“I could tell you stories,” he whispered, and it was my absolute hope that he wouldn’t start now.
“I bet you could,” I answered with a wide grin. “I’d love to hear them once I get my book.”
“I will do you one better,” he answered with a wink. “Let’s get together after I get off, and I’ll tell you my deepest, darkest secrets.”
Egad. I tried not to choke on my own acid reflux.
“Um, let’s see what happens after we find the book?” I said, trying in earnest not to let my disgust show.
“You’ve gotta find the book on your own, sweetheart,” he said with a frown, as if he didn’t like my response. “I can’t leave my post,” he finished as he motioned to the desk.
“Well, where am I going to find it if it’s lost?” I reacted almost violently. The thought of going back into those overcrowded stalls, without a clue as to where I could find the book I was looking for, was daunting to say the least.
“I would start with where it’s supposed to be located,” he answered with a quick, indifferent shrug. Then he glanced at the computer screen. “And that would be in Aisle 31, Row D.”
“Thanks,” I said as I sighed deeply and didn’t wait to hear his response before I turned away and started back toward the black hole that was the book stacks. The good news was that I didn’t believe for a second that the book had been stolen, so I decided to examine the other possibility. Someone, probably the self-absorbed Robin Hood wannabe at the circulation desk, must have shelved it incorrectly. My best bet was to return to the section of shelves that dealt with the same topic, Aisle 31 as Robin Hood had mentioned. There, I could scan through all of the catalogue numbers and various spine titles until I located my book. Sure, it was time-consuming work, but since I couldn’t have my table in the corner yet anyway, I had plenty of time to kill.
So, for the next thirty minutes, I searched and searched and searched some more. I managed to scan through the titles in the entire D section of Aisle 31, which had to have accounted for upwards of two hundred books. When that search didn’t turn up the fugitive volume, I wondered if whoever had replaced the book on the shelf might have placed it in an entirely different section of the library stacks.
So I turned to the second side of Aisle 31. After more than an hour, I started to believe this search was going to prove to be fruitless. With a sigh of defeat, I emerged from the library stacks, only to find “my table” was still occupied, unfortunately.
Now fully frustrated, I sat down at a neighboring table, leaned back in the chair, locked my fingers behind my head and stared at the ceiling. I tried to figure out what the hell I should do next. Going back to the circulation desk and talking to the smooth-tongued geek didn’t appeal to me in the least and seemed pointless anyway since he hadn’t been able to help me much in the first place. Maybe it would be better to come back when someone else was attending the circulation desk? Maybe I might have better luck then?
But then you’ll have to head back to your room and talk to Dani, and you’re really not in the mood to do that, I said to myself, deciding I would continue to play avoidant by remaining at the library. If you’re going to be stuck here, you might as well make the best of it by continuing to look.
With that, I stood up and plunged back into the book stacks, this time venturing down Aisle 32 with the hopes that I might find my book there. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered as I scanned each title, using my index finger to guide me. I wasn’t sure how long it took me to reach the end of the aisle, but when I did, I turned to the next row with a heavy sigh. That was when I noticed something lying on the top shelf of the row just in front of me, maybe a foot or so out of my reach. Luckily, there was a step stool beside me, so I pulled it over and took both steps which put me just out of reach of the top of the stack. Standing on my tiptoes, I reached for the overly dusty book and pulled it down from its hiding place atop the shelf. I had to squint at it in the low light to make out the title.
“Well, I’ll be Robin Hood’s little bitch,” I whispered the second I read the book’s title. I could feel a huge smile spreading across my lips. It was the exact book I was looking for! Thrilled with my serendipitous find, I started to turn away, and that’s when something else on the top shelf caught my eye.