Five

Henley

2009

“What do you mean, someonechecked it out?” I say, staring at the librarian like she told me she took my book out back and burned it.

“There was a hold on it, Henley,” Margo, the librarian says, her tone calm and reasonable. “There was nothing I could do.”

“A hold?” I say shaking my head. “I’ve been checking that book out for the last six months, and no one else has ever wanted it.”

Her fingers click on her a keyboard a few times. “He placed the hold on it three days ago.”

“He?”

Margo blanches a bit at my tone. I sound angry. Probably because I am.

“Yes, a young man came in and picked it up, not more than an hour ago.”

“What young man?” I feel my spine straighten and my neck go stiff. “What’s his name?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Henley,” she chides me before twisting her mouth just a bit. “But I will tell you he didn’t leave…” her finger comes up off her keyboard and points toward the back of the library.

I should say thank you—while she didn’t break the rules for me, she certainly bent them—but I don’t. I just spin on my heel and stomp my way across the library, toward the back corner, where some idealistic, young librarian set up a couple of beanbag chairs and a few game tables and proudly proclaimed it the Teen Reading Center. There’s a sign and everything.

I’ve never seen anyone here but me.

Until today.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss, standing over where he’s slouched into a tie-dyed beanbag chair, my copy of Gatsby held up in front of his face.

“Reading.” As if to prove it, Conner licks the tip of his index finger and uses it to catch onto a worn page so he can turn it.

“Why?” I sputter the word out, fists clenched at my side.

He arches a brow at me, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “Because reading is fundamental, Henley.”

A weird sounding scream comes out of me. Like I’m being strangled. My face is so hot if feels like it’s melting off my bones.

Conner looks at me over the top of my book, his brow furrowed. Despite the look he’s giving me, he’s on the verge of laughing. “Shhh, people are trying to read.”

“That’s my book,” I say, louder than I should and more than a few people look at us. Margo shoots me a warning look and it reminds me of my mother.

Ladies don’t cause a scene.

He turns the book so he can look at the back cover before flashing it at me, along with another grin. “This book is the property of the Boston City Library—that means it belongs to everybody.”

I swallow hard, refusing exit to the swell of tears that threatens to pull me under. He doesn’t understand. How could he? With his brand-new shoes and parents who love each other, almost as much as they love him.

He could never understand.

So, I kick him.

Hard. Right in the knee.

“Fuck you,” I snarl at him, for a moment unable to believe that I said something like that out loud.

Ladies never swear.

Before I know what I’m doing, I turn back the way I came and run.

“Henley.”

Past the help desk and a gaping Margo. Through the library, my vision blurry. Chest heaving with the effort of keeping it all inside.

“Hennie, stop.”

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

“Come on,” he shouts at me. “I was only joking.” Conner’s limping after me, a few steps behind.

“Henley!” He shouts my name as soon as I shove my way through the door and onto the sidewalk. Seconds later a hand closes over my shoulder and spins me around.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, shoving his hand away, my heart jammed in my throat. “Just leave me alone, Conner.”

“I’m sorry, I—” he stops, shaking his head, hands dropping to his sides. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me? About what?” I scoff at him. “You need to borrow my calculus notes again?”

“No—”

“Then what?” I say loudly, advancing on him, hands raised. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I need a math tutor,” he says in a rush.

“What?”

He sighs, rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me say it again, Hennie. It’s embarrassing.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Sorry.” He flashes me a grin, even while he’s rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

“You want me to tutor you?” First my notes and now he wants me to tutor him. I can feel my eyes narrow on his face. “Are you serious?”

Straightening, he nods. “Yeah,” he says cocking his head to rub his ear with his index finger. “I guess all the sleeping in class is finally catching up to me. My folks got a failure notice in the mail—if I don’t pull my grades up, my dad says no car for my birthday.”

“Poor baby,” I say, not liking the bitter tone of my own voice.

 “It’s rough. I’ve been relying on my charm and good looks to get dates.” He grins at me again, and I can feel myself bending. My anger evaporating. “It’s also embarrassing to have to pick them up in your mom’s mini-van.” Still grinning, he holds up the tattered copy of Gatsby we’ve been fighting over. “So, whaddya say, Hennie? Tutor me. I’ll pay you in books?”

I look past the book in his hand, at his face. He’s gorgeous. Dark brown hair. Clear green eyes. Dimples that, when he flashes them at you, make you forget how to breathe. Every girl I know has a crush on him—except for Tess. When other girls start talking about how hot Conner Gilroy is, Tess starts making puke noises. I’ve never told her what I really think of him. How being around him makes me feel. That I’m just like the rest of them.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks, his mouth curved into the kind of knowing smile that instantly sets my face on fire. Yeah, Conner Gilroy is gorgeous, and he absolutely knows it.

Ignoring his question and the look he’s giving me, I advance. “You’ll pay me in cash, Gilroy,” I say, stepping in close enough to touch him, the embarrassed flush threatening to erupt across my face, kept at bay through sheer force of will and a healthy dose of pride. “Ten bucks an hour—I can buy my own books.” I poke him in the chest for good measure, and his grin widens and lightens until it’s so big and bright it blinds me.

He reaches up and snags my hand before I have a chance to drop it. “Sounds like we’ve reached an accord, O’Connell,” he tells me, giving my hand a quick shake to seal the deal. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

“We can’t,” I tell him, shaking my head while I jerk my hand loose. “Tomorrow’s Friday.”

“Do you have plans?” He says it casually but he’s looking at me weird. Like he doesn’t like the idea. Probably because he’s a conceited jackass who thinks the world revolves around him.

He’s still holding my hand.

“No, but you do.” I feel my face burst into flames the second I say it. “With Jessica.” When he looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about, I roll my eyes. “Jessica Renfro. You’re taking her to the movies.”

Recognition dawns, followed by a lopsided grin. “Stalker much?”

He’s still holding my hand.

 “Please.” I glare at him. “I have third-hour history with her, and she won’t shut up about it. Listening to her talk about you is like being waterboarded, only I have a feeling being waterboarded is more fun.”

He keeps grinning. “Studying with you is more important to me than seeing a movie with Jessica.”

My heart starts flopping around in my chest like a fish out of water.

Because he wants his car. That’s why he’s being nice to you. That’s the only reason why. Because he needs a tutor. That’s it.

“Fine,” I say, jerking my hand loose to hold it out expectantly. “Tomorrow. Can I have my book back now?” Conner just laughs.

“Not a chance,” he says, shoving the paperback into the back pocket of his jeans, leaving me empty-handed before turning to head back into the library.