Chapter Three
I was still trying to figure out what exactly I was going to do about the situation with Zack when I got out of my classes the next day —it would be awkward no matter what. I walked across the campus wishing I’d grabbed a thicker sweater; it was starting to get cold. I gritted my teeth and reminded myself I was headed to the library, where it was always warm. It would be colder once it got out closer to sunset, but the dorms weren’t that far. I could grab a heavier sweater before I went to the dining hall for dinner.
I had been consciously avoiding Zack ever since I’d made my decision to get a fresh start. That wouldn’t work, of course, with the interview I had to get with him. But at least the library was somewhere I wouldn’t have to think about him. I could just get some studying done and pretend like he didn’t exist for a couple of hours. It was a relief.
I went into the library and found myself instantly relaxing, muscles I hadn’t even known were tense beginning to uncoil along my back and shoulders. I took a deep breath — the library smelled like books, a faint trace of ozone from the copiers and computers, and something clean and lemony. I’d come to the library almost every day since classes officially started — though I’d changed up my time slightly in recent weeks. It was comfortable and homey to me. I made my way past the circulation and services desk and into the library proper, taking off my sweater; the classrooms were all pretty chilly, but the library always seemed to be a little warmer than any other building on campus except the student union.
I found a seat in the quiet section, sitting down next to a girl I didn’t know; it was oddly busy — sometimes I’d go into the library and there would be no one but me and the staff. I didn’t think anything of it; after all, midterms were coming up, and people were probably cramming and making up for last time. I got out my American History textbook and my notebook, and started to flip through for the section we were currently covering. In the thick silence of the quiet section, I heard the library entrance doors squeak open and looked up in spite of my determination to plunge into my studying.
Of all of the people to come walking into the library, it had to be him. I almost groaned as I caught sight of Zack walking past the circulation desk and heading to a different section of the library, not even looking around as he made his way past the section I was in. In a million years, I would never have guessed I would see Zack in the library looking as if he knew exactly where he was going, looking focused. I knew I was staring. I couldn’t believe my eyes; Zack, who had barely kept up his grades enough to get through high school, who had always joked about my bookworm habits, was in the campus library, textbooks in hand, looking as if he was going in for a prolonged jam session of studying.
The girl I’d sat down next to must have noticed my staring; I nearly jumped out of my chair when she spoke. “He’s pretty hot, isn’t he?” I tore my gaze away from Zack. The girl — with short-cropped blonde hair and gray-green eyes — was looking in Zack’s direction and then grinned at me.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling my heart pounding. I had to stop thinking about him — but it was impossible when he kept showing up like this; first the interview I had to do with him and now him being in the library while I was. If I were paranoid, I would say there had to be some way he was manipulating things — it couldn’t be a coincidence that he kept getting thrown in my way.
White van syndrome, I told myself. Since I noticed Zack at the party and ended up having sex with him — putting him at the forefront of my mind in spite of all my attempts to stop thinking about him — I was apt to notice anything having to do with him. I might have even ended up going to the game even if I didn’t have to cover it for the newspaper.
I was being ridiculous, I thought. Zack was just another person. He didn’t keep showing up in my life for any particular reason; there were lots of people at the college with us, but there weren’t so many people that it was impossible for us to run into each other — we had gone eight weeks without seeing each other, but that was just a coincidence, and just because I tended to keep strictly to my dorm, the dining hall, my classes, and the library. I had to get used to seeing him occasionally or I’d never get over him.
“He’s in here every day,” the girl was saying. I shrugged, although that piece of information surprised me more than seeing Zack in the first place. “Always comes out this time of the afternoon.”
That at least explained why I hadn’t seen him. Normally I would have gone to the library in the morning — but after the late meeting with the campus newspaper, I had slept in a bit. Normally I reserved a private study cubicle, too; but when I’d come in to reserve after breakfast, they were taken for the rest of the day until the library closed at midnight.
I pretended to turn my attention back onto my book as if Zack’s appearance had nothing to do with me — and I was sure it didn’t. But if I took too much notice of him being in the library, the girl might ask if I knew him. It was bad enough to have made a public spectacle of myself in the dining hall, even if no one had really mentioned it to me in the days since. If she started asking questions, the whole sordid thing might come tumbling out of me, and the last thing I wanted or needed was to be the subject of gossip. I didn’t want to be Zack’s pining ex-girlfriend. I just wanted to get my work done, make my grades, and move on with my life.
It was strange, though; I thought back to high school, and I tried to remember if I had ever seen Zack set foot in the school media center. He must have had to go with his English class when they were learning how to write a research paper, but I couldn’t think of any point in time when he had gone of his own volition to study. I think he even managed to skip study hall. He had never been a dedicated student or even a particularly good student — so what was he doing in the library now? I couldn’t imagine anything that would make him decide to do better in his classes. After all, there was a common piece of gossip that most of the football team was given a certain amount of leniency in getting their work done, turning it in on time, and even the quality of their work. The college wanted to make sure to toe the line between making sure they got an education and making sure they were still able to qualify to play. No one was blatantly passed if they didn’t do any work, but Zack was smart enough to manage a C without much effort; why would he put in extra work if he didn’t have to?
I had to work hard to make myself focus on the task at hand. It was like an itch in my eyes — the urge to look up and see if Zack was still in the library, if he was actually studying or just goofing off. I didn’t care, I told myself. If he had somehow become a better student because the standards were higher in college, then that was good for him; but I still couldn’t quite credit the possibility of a guy who belonged to the most notorious frat on campus being a good student. It just didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t my problem. I didn’t care. I was just there to study. But the question still purred away at the back of my mind.